| |
For three years, I had the pleasure of working as a poker dealer in a local casino. It was the best job and the strangest job I've ever held. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I had watched poker on TV and knew the difference between a flush and a straight. No biggie. A monkey can deal poker. Well, you may be able to train a monkey to deal poker, but a good dealer is far more than a card slinger. No, a good dealer is a baby-sitter, rule enforcer, smiling customer service rep, and counselor to all the bad beat stories players have to share.
The best part, the players, was also the strangest part. There are all sorts of people who come to play poker. Some come just to have fun. Some come to test their skills against live opponents as opposed to computer ones. Some are there to make money and some of those depend on that money as a source of income. Throw all of them together on a table, add in alcohol, and it makes for an interesting night. I've seen players get into fist fights over a supposed “bad bead”. I've had chips slung at me because someone lost and couldn't take losing all the money he had. I've seen grown men act like little children by calling each other names and tattling on silly things such as acting out of turn. And I've also gotten to know great men and women who had wonderful stories to share and knowledge to impart on the game of poker.
In getting to know the players, you also got to know their tempers. You knew when Player A walked into the room fireworks would explode because he was notorious for throwing chairs and screaming at anyone who gave him a bad beat. Whereas when Player B walked into the room, you knew you were in for an interesting night because he had jokes and stories to share with one and all. You knew who could handle their alcohol and who couldn't. Who should be spending their money and who couldn't afford one more beat. You knew who would tip you and who would stiff you. Your night revolved around that room and those players and if the room ran well, your night ran well.
My strangest night was also a very scary night. It started off like a normal routine night. The room was full and I recognized a lot of familiar faces. Especially A since he was sitting at the same table in the same spot from the night before. (Still had the same clothes on also.) A was the type of player that was in the poker room so much, you wondered what he did for a living and how his family handled his long absences. So, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary to see A still playing poker. But then, it got scary when A started having a seizure.
The weird thing about poker is something like that can be going on and you're still expected to run your game and continue playing like nothing was going on. It happened while I was waiting to deal that table. One minute he was fine and the next minute he was on the floor. A few people stopped to help him, most continued their play while trying to figure out what was going on, and the paramedics came to take care of him within minutes. He refused to go to the hospital. Turns out, he had a seizure the day before and didn't want to go back to the hospital. So, after a few minutes of the paramedics insisting he leave and at least go home, he drank a bottle of water, got back in his seat, and told me to deal him in. He just acted like nothing was wrong and stayed for another day, in the same, smelly clothes, playing poker and trading insults with other players. He had quite a few more seizures in there and it never got 'normal' to see it occur. In fact, he still plays a few days a week though I've heard his brother accompanies him to ensure that he gets home within twenty-four hours.
I loved the job though. The energy that a poker room possesses when it's packed to the gills is almost tangible. My heart would pound and my palms would get sweaty as I watched players bet thousands of dollars worth of chips and then pushed pots, containing more money than I'd make in a year, to the winner. The fun was in trying to figure out who had the winning hand before the cards came up and finding the joy in watching great players make great plays regardless of what was in their hand. The poker room can become like a small family when you see the same faces day in and out and learn about little chunks of their lives. The poker room was its own little country in the casino where anything could happen and no night was exactly alike.
Article views: 1258
 |
|
|
|
