In a classic case of casino misfortune, Keith Hawkins discovered his dreams of cashing in nearly $60,000 in chips were dashed when they were deemed 'pilfered' by a not-so-reliable employee decades ago.

Hawkins thought he'd hit the jackpot when he snagged 389 vintage chips from the now-defunct Playboy Hotel and Casino at an auction, but his luck soured when the New Jersey Unclaimed Property Administration ruled them 'unissued' due to a 1990s theft. With a court upholding this decision, his dreams of cashing in on a punchy jackpot turned into a regrettable trip down memory lane, reminding us all that some chips are better left unplayed.

The Playboy Hotel and Casino, which operated from 1981 to 1984 in Atlantic City, had a rather tumultuous existence. One might say it had all the flair of a vintage jumpsuit – bright, eye-catching, and ultimately a tad embarrassing. After its closure, the casino attempted to stay on the straight and narrow by transferring potential chip redemption funds to the New Jersey State's Unclaimed Property Administration. This was their attempt at responsible adulting, but as it turns out, adulting is never as easy as it seems.

Enter Keith Hawkins, a self-proclaimed chip aficionado who recently surfed the online auction wave and landed himself a set of these retro gaming tokens worth over $59,000. One might imagine Hawkins, perhaps, daydreaming about cashing in these chips and living the high life, but reality can often resemble a bad poker face, and this was no exception. Hawkins, upon attempting to redeem his chips in 2023, was met with a twist fit for a cheap thriller – a backstory involving pilferage from decades ago.

As it happens, a former casino employee took a trip down memory lane in 1990 and decided to 'liberate' several boxes of unused chips, tucking them away in a bank deposit box like they were some sort of precious heirlooms. Little did this employee know, their idea of preservation would eventually lead to Hawkins' misfortune. Fast forward to 2010, and the bank, perhaps playing the role of the keen-eyed inspector, opened the deposit box, revealing a treasure trove of nostalgia – promptly confiscating the chips and sending them to an auction house. Because when all else fails, why not turn a forgotten piece of history into a modern-day marketplace?

Hawkins, undeterred and perhaps a tad naïve, likely saw opportunity dancing before his eyes, completely overlooking the fact that nothing in life, especially involving decades-old casino memorabilia, comes easy. That aforementioned unclaimed property was about to pull a fast one on him as the UPA stepped in, ruling the chips as 'unissued' and, therefore, entirely ineligible for redemption. In other words, the chips may have been colorful little bits of plastic, but they were as good as a duplicate bingo card at a blackout game.

In the post-auction court showdown, Hawkins maintained that the UPA acted arbitrarily in its decision. Words like 'arbitrary' tend to get thrown around when someone is faced with a no-win situation – it’s the verbal equivalent of crossing your fingers under the table. However, the appellate court upheld the UPA's determination, proving that when it comes to chips that were supposed to have been destroyed, a firm ruling is often accompanied by a side of disbelief.

In the end, Hawkins' dreams of a high-stakes payout evaporated like the hopes of a toddler holding on to their last ice cream cone on a hot day. The relentless bureaucracy of the Unclaimed Property Administration, intertwined with the shadows of bygone casino antics, left him with nothing more than a memory of hoped riches. The state of New Jersey certainly has an interesting sense of humor when it comes to unclaimed treasures, clearly echoing the sentiment that not all that glitters in a nostalgic auction is gold.

This rather unfortunate tale serves as a reminder that in the world of gaming tokens, as in life, rules are as unyielding as an elderly dealer at the blackjack table. What once seemed like a lucrative win turned into a lesson in the importance of provenance – a lesson Keith Hawkins is unlikely to forget anytime soon, considering his chips are now little more than colorful relics from a closed chapter of gambling history.