Often, it's been part of her job description. When she lived in Las Vegas in her early 20s, she worked at a loan office, requiring her to gently quash other people's dreams on a near-daily basis. After that, she managed the front desk at the Flamingo Hotel, where she dealt with a constant deluge of tiny traumas—like the time she had to inform a guest he couldn't get a new room just because his partner had an "accident" on the floor of his current one, or when she denied another patron's request for a fresh pair of pants after messing his own. (Apparently, what really happens in Vegas is mostly irritable bowel syndrome.)