Monica Yant Kinney: Betting big on Asian gamblers

Attention out-of-work Chinese speakers: You could have a swell job at the SugarHouse Casino targeting your friends and family. The Philadelphia casino desperately seeks an "Asian Marketing Executive" to separate immigrants from their hard-earned cash.

The job calls for "attracting Asian player base to the property" and "ensuring gaming service expectations are met." For those who don't speak casino, that means offering comps in Cantonese and plying players with ethnic food to make them forget major losses at mini baccarat.

A successful candidate can tweet in Vietnamese, take drink orders in Korean, and make it seem like good, clean Mandarin fun for a restaurateur to blow a night's dinner receipts playing Pai Gow poker.

Interested? At SugarHouse, you must be able to "walk, stand, see, talk, and hear." And you must endure chain smokers. Inhaling with a smile is a job requirement.

Segregation in schools is illegal, but it's business as usual in the casino industry, where Asians often play in rooms built just for them.

Researchers point to Asians' cultural tolerance of gambling. They bet lucky numbers and they bet big. Win or lose, because gambling is generally accepted in the community, they feel little shame. Historically, up to 20 percent of gaming revenue in Atlantic City came from Asian players, including those who can ill afford the habit.

Lai Har Cheung was in kindergarten when her Chinese parents - a seamstress and cook who spoke no English - began dragging the kids to Caesars and dumping them in the casino arcade.

"They'd give us a roll of quarters to play video games," she recalls, "and leave us to wait and wait."

At just 7, Cheung cared for her 5-year-old sister and toddler brother while her parents blew money better spent on household repairs. In casinos that had no arcades, the kids sat in lobbies for hours with strict orders to stay put.

Cheung cringed as her mother fell prey to a hard sell that played into her heritage and isolation.

"All the marketing materials came to our house in Chinese," she recalls. "One time, my grandmother told us to come down because the casino was serving congee, a rice porridge Asians eat for breakfast. I thought, 'Oh, my God! They're even making familiar food to get us there and make us stay.' "

The family spent so much time in casinos that Cheung, a Bryn Mawr graduate now in her 30s, says, "I can't think about my childhood without thinking about Atlantic City." Fond memories they aren't, but they did inspire her to protest a proposed Chinatown casino and to keep agitating about SugarHouse.

"Once my mom started going to the casinos, I lost her," Cheung laments. "She was around physically, but her mental state and emotional availability were gone."

SugarHouse's job posting on the casinocareers.com website made news days after three Asian women were robbed of cash and credit cards at 1 a.m. as they approached the casino. One of the women was pistol-whipped, adding to the urgency for some positive PR.

Linda Powers, SugarHouse's VP for marketing, couldn't tell me what the executive post pays or how many Asian customers the casino already has, saying only that the gambling house created the job "in response to existing demand."

Asian games are "quite popular," she added, but "it is simply too early in our operation to discuss potential gaming floor changes," such as opening an Asian room like those seen in Atlantic City.

Out of curiosity, I asked whether SugarHouse displays any signs - such as those advertising the 1-800-GAMBLER hotline for players who've lost their heads - in any language other than English.

Answer: Nope.

"This is something perhaps our Asian marketing executive can help us decide."