There was nothing unusual about the bet that led to Cara DeRosa's meltdown.

It was a standard wager she'd paid out countless times during her first six weeks at Maryland Live Casino Dealer School, where she was taking a crash course in craps. But now all those odds that DeRosa had spent so many hours committing to memory were escaping her. So, too, was her composure.

All around her were other anxious job-seekers competing for potentially transformative casino dealer gigs: An unemployed mother who hadn't received a paycheck since being laid off from Verizon Wireless 19 months earlier. A Giant pharmacy tech who hated his dead-end job. A Cheesecake Factory waitress who coveted the casino's excitement.