Let me tell you the way it was, kids.

When I was a casino executive on the Las Vegas Strip, every now and then, I would get a call from an agent of the Nevada Gaming Control Board. He would want to have coffee or lunch, and it would be at the Peppermill on the Strip. It meant that we would be meeting that day, and I canceled whatever I had planned.

I went alone, for that was the unspoken rule, and when I arrived, there would always be two agents already there. Without fail, it had to do with an issue.