Archive for September, 2005

A replay of one night last week - I’ve mentioned Shaunie before and she continues her role as a spoiled princess believing that poker was invented for her to do as she wishes even if the rest of the world has to conform. Check this post.

I slid into the Box, a full $30-60 H table, and Shaunie was gracing the poker room with her presence by playing in the 5s. The 7s, a man unknown to me, had a $20 bill on the table underneath his small stack of chips. I told him the bill had to come off the table - only $100 bills were allowed. He informed me that it was his lucky $20. Well hell…if it was he needed to ditch it anyway, he had very little left in the way of chips.

I said, “Lucky or not, it can’t be on the table, only $100 bills are allowed.”

He asked me why, I explained that when a player sees a bill on the table, they know it’s $100 and how much is going to play in a hand, that’s why we have the rule.

He removed it, without a grumble or a twitch.

As I asked for Time from each player, I noticed that our darling of the poker room, Miss Shaunie herself, had a $1.00 bill under her stacks of chips. I know her and me are going to have a problem because rules do not apply to her. But I’m a persistent bitch. I said, “Honey, the $1.00 bill has to come off the table.”

She said, “I’ll just slide it under my chips so know one can see it’s a $1.00 bill.”

Yeah…right. That’s the whole reason for the $100 bill rule. Now I might have been a little terse when I snapped, “No you won’t. You’ll take it off the table. I just asked this gentleman to remove his $20,” as I motioned at the 7s. “So how could I allow you to leave yours on the table?”

She pouted, “I’ll just leave the game then.”

I said, “Ok! Your choice.”

She snapped, “Call the Floor Man.”

Shit! Wonder where she’s from? Shaunie Land, maybe.

Carmen was a few feet away and I called her. I explained that I had just asked the 7s to remove a $20 and when I asked the 5s to remove the $1.00 bill, she wanted a floor person.

Carmen told her to take it off the table - NOW!

Shaunie said she would quit.

Carmen said, “Fine,” and left to help a customer.

Shaunie announced that she would just go to another game and put the bill back on the table. She racked up to leave and as she did, she waved at me, “She’s always mean to me.”

I replied, “I’m not mean to anyone.”

“Yes, you are. You are always mean to me.”

Me, “No I’m not. You just never think the rules apply to you.”

*Good bye, Shaunie*

The table was mystified as to why she couldn’t abide by the rule…since it was a rule and everyone knew it.

Donna was in the 3s. She said, “She’s the kind of person that gives women poker players a bad name.”

RIGHT ON, DONNA!

The 7s went on a rush. Damn good thing he got rid of that lucky $20.00.

When I got pushed, I told Carmen that Shaunie said she would just go to another table and put the bill back on with her chips.

It was hysterical. Carmen’s eyes picked up twinkle as she started searching the tables in the room, “Where is she?”

*laughing my butt off*

A day of horrible tragedy and sadness, world changing events, and immeasurable stress and strife for mankind - my first memory of this date is my sis calling me and telling me that one of the World Trade Center Buildings had just collapsed. Thinking about it, replaying my own emotional horror, brings sadness flooding into my heart and a total lack of understanding in how we treat each other in the manner we do…and for what? In the long run of it all, what’s the bottom line?

A poem written for that day:

*****

THE DEATH OF PEACE

Where peace once stood and freedom rang, the people hid, the sky stood gray.

The world was dark, its depth untold, the night had come to stay.

Sorrow ran in molten tears, no children came to play.

Peace had died, mankind slain, on one September day.

*****

Life is so much easier and fulfilling if we are at peace with ourselves, and in being there, we are at peace with everything else.

Let us each treasure and appreciate what we have, strive to be better than we are, learn how to deal with ourselves so that we can better deal with others, and find compassion and strength within so that we may bless those we love and be a monument in times of need.

Peace to all.

It’s really difficult for me to believe - even when I stop and sort through all the memories and great times I’ve stored in my thoughts - but as of today, I’ve been back in the employment of Bellagio/Mirage for eleven years. I opened The Mirage in 1989, left in April of 1993 to open The Gulfport Grand in Gulfport Mississippi, (And good God!!!! Yes…I’m so glad I’m not there now!), and returned to Vegas in April of 1994. Where in the hell did those years go? My life feels like it’s on fast forward. Everything speeds by and I chase the small Time Tendrils, trying to hold onto every moment, taste it, feel it, breathe it, live it, and absorb it into my being to be savored when something jolts my thoughts and reminds me of another time, another day, another fleeting moment that I can never have again.

*****

Well here I am. Right back in a Time Warp with a few players that I had hoped would disappear. These players are not part of the small Time Tendrils…they are more like giant, vacuous spaces that destroy the best parts of time. One of them is Sam. A Mirage player for years - came with us to Bellagio - horrible attitude and it’s always the dealer’s fault. If an earthquake shook the building, it would be the dealer’s fault. Hell, there may be a major Dealer Fault Line running right under Bellagio, creating tremors and aftershocks that are too big to register on the Richter Scale and Sam may be one of the few players that knows it’s there. But Sam is back, after being 86′d for some time, he’s haunting the card tables again…or the card tables are haunting him. He’s glaring and staring his way through $30-60 H and from what I heard last night, he may be right on the edge of the Dealer Fault Line again…as in close to leaving us for another few years. Shit! Do they ever learn? In Sam’s case, apparently not. I’ve dealt to him a few times and last night found him in a game in my line-up…he’s not been out of line during my downs but his grim face leaves me wishing he’d find another avenue for self inflicted pain.

Another one that hit my line-up last night and has been a major pain in the butt since The Mirage Days; played regularly at Bellagio up until a few years ago, had to destroy a down for me. I would have to give him ‘No Name’ because I don’t know his name, don’t want to know it, can’t believe his mother ever gave him one…he’s such a piece of shit. I rarely try to tip the scales of life by being brutally cold about a person’s value in life, but this guy is beyond the realm of how I feel about my fellow man/woman. He’s a Creep Freak. He used to be a Box Man at The Mirage…or so I’ve been told. Even when he played at The Mirage, he was still employed by The Mirage, and he couldn’t wait to come into the poker room to torment dealers…all this in $3-6 and $4-8 Limit although I’ve seen him play as high as $8-16. Whoopee! He will have to be C.F. (Creep Freak) for this writing. And I believe I’ve posted about him before…but DAMNIT…if I didn’t, I should have.

He’s in the 5s of $4-8 H. He glares at me when I take the Dealer’s Chair. Quite seriously, he’s thinner, older, and he reminds me of what I would imagine Satan to look like if he were in human form. C.F. plays every hand. He wins a pot with about $50 in it. He doesn’t tip…I didn’t expect him to.

There are a few players that if they tipped me, I would be highly disappointed. I would have to restructure my thought on them because it would blow apart everything I’ve learned about them…and I would have to tell them, “Thank you!” No…NO, Mrs. Wizard…do not make me tell them thank you. Thank you, Mrs. Wizard for keeping them in the same safe dark hole I’ve placed them in and not allowing them to come out in the light.

Everyone else at the table is a new face, relaxed and playing poker…but not C.F. It only takes him a few hands to start feigning deafness as a problem for not hearing me say, “$4 to call.” This is an ongoing thing with him each time I’ve dealt to him for over the last ten years or so, If he’s really that hard of hearing, why doesn’t he get a hearing aid? To easy! How could he make everyone else miserable if he couldn’t act like he was unable to communicate? He knows exactly where the action is and how much it is to him, he just likes to disrupt the game, act likes he’s being persecuted by life in general, and act like an overall asshole. BTW…he does the ‘overall asshole’ almost better than anyone I’ve ever met.

C.F. had a $100 bill under his very short stack of chips; had two $1 chips out for his SB; the bet was raised, it was $6 for him to call. He pushed out the $100 bill. I counted out the chips from the rack, stacked three stacks of $5 chips in stacks of five, spread three $5 chips on the side, and four $1 chips, and pushed them in front of him, showing a neat little $94 in change and leaving $8 in front of him for the call.

C.F. stared at his change, rifled through it - then declared that I didn’t do it right. There were six other players in the hand, all their bets were in front of them, nothing had been pulled into the pot, and I went through the process of explaining his change.

“WHAT?” His glare focused on me.

He can’t fucking hear. Right? Yeah, right!

I explained it all again, patiently counting out all of his chips, showing him the stacks of five, the odd three, the four $1 chips - the correct change.

“WELL…IT’S NOT RIGHT!”

I did it all again. Several players chimed in and told him it was right. He argued. I called the Floor. I got Skip. I explained the situation to Skip. Skip told him it was right.

“NO, IT’S NOT RIGHT. MY CHANGE ISN’T RIGHT!”

By now I was yelling…maybe it was to make him hear me or maybe it was because I wanted to knock him off his chair…and maybe that’s where he wanted me. Sure…I thought about that too. I explained, loudly, that he had $102 in the pot, that he now had $94 in change.

After shuffling through the stacks, he noticed the three odd $5 chips, like they materialized out of thin air. “Oh…I didn’t see this one,” pointing at one of the $5 chips.

No Shit! Maybe it was put there by Lance Burton.

Before Skip left the table, he told C.F. that he was going to have to listen to the dealer and pay attention. Even after the pot had been pushed and we were on to the next hand, C.F. kept looking at his chips and mumbling. A few hands later, when he was one off of the Button, the bet was $8 to him, I looked at him and said, “Eight to call.”

He said, “I check.”

I didn’t even crack a smile or change my tone of voice, “It’s eight to call,” as I gestured at the eight $1 chips in front of the 8s.

He snarled, “Did he bet?”

“No dip-shit, the Chip Fairy just threw those chips out on the table,” that was what I wanted to say but instead I said, “Yes, $8 to call.”

He snapped out, “Well, you are supposed to tell me he bet, that’s your job.”

I screamed for Skip. When Skip arrived behind me, I explained. Skip told C.F. that he was going to have to follow the action and pay attention to the game. And listen to the dealer. The problems stopped. C.F. knew what was going on all the time. He also knew the Floor Person wasn’t going to put up with anymore of his antics so he simply stopped.

In the meantime, Cheryl was in a game two games away from my line-up. Another one of those people that I wish would just go somewhere else and do something different with their lives. She hasn’t been around for a while and I certainly haven’t missed her. She could be a beauty queen but she chooses to dress like one and behave like a trash mouthed slut that thinks the world revolves around her rosy red ass…maybe it does when she’s not in Poker Land…but she’s a horror to play with and deal to. She had the whole table worked up into a mad dog frenzy…I could hear her and them while I dealt the game with C.F. in it.

I got pushed, took a break, and hit my next game - right behind the game I just came out of…I had a front row seat to watch C.F. and his antics. And Cheryl moved into the 1s in that game. I got a new player in the 5s in my game. He wasn’t new to me…he’d just left the game that Cheryl left and he didn’t have any kind words for her. D-a-m-n! Ain’t she a charmer?

About half way through this down, C.F. went ballist-i-co. He had to have gone broke or picked up what few chips he had left and gave up his seat. But he didn’t leave. He stood behind the 6s, yelling - it appeared to be at the dealer because he was glaring that way. The vile mouth moved continuously (I couldn’t hear what he said but I could sure as hell imagine what was going on there) as the demon eyes focused on the dealer. It went on for about five minutes.

Leslie, Floor Person, walked up to the table, listened/half looked at C.F. and then started to walk away. I called her back. I couldn’t imagine the dealer not calling for a floor to get C.F. out of there but whatever the case - enough was enough. When Leslie walked up behind me, I explained that the floor had already been called on C.F. twice when I was dealing that game and he shouldn’t be allowed to stand there and glare/yell at the dealer. Leslie started to move in his direction and he drifted off.

When I hit my next table, (those three tables are in an L shape), C.F. walked up by the original table to glare at everyone. Then he walked over to the table I was dealing at and glared at me. I started laughing. He finally moved off again - hopefully he found the entrance to the hole he crawled out of. And if he did, I sure as hell hope that entrance is sealed off if I hit the Time Warp again.

I hit the final table of the daily tournament at 7:30 p.m. - my first game of the night - and it was six handed. The antes were $100, the Blinds at $600 and $1200. The 2s went bust and the other players dug into their pockets and gave him $100 each - some kind of deal made between them. Soon another player was gone…it was a Dead Button but the 5s argued with me that he had been the Small Blind the hand before and it should be his button. He and the 6s were in a continual, noisy conversation and it was hard to even get their attention for the antes each hand…so I wondered what my chances were of convincing him he was the Small Blind. It was finally settled when the 3s piped up and said it was his Button.

The 5s told me I was right and it wasn’t a problem - all in good humor.

And I politely said, “Then shut the fuck up and play,â€? - all in good humor.

This has to be done with just the right group and just the right tone, it was. They roared!

The 5s meekly said, “Yes, Miss Linda.â€?

They bashed chips around the table for a few more minutes and then decided to just split the whole prize pool four ways. The 6s stated that would give them over $5,000 each and a little change and they should just give that to the dealers.

The 7s blurted out, “The dealers already get 3% of the prize. They don’t need anymore.â€?

The 5s made some comment about dealers getting 3% and the 3s added his point of view, “I didn’t know they already got 3%. They don’t need anymore than that.â€?

I threw in a comment here, “The 3% is split up between the whole poker room staff, it does not just go to the dealers.â€?

The 6s said that he was trying to get something for the dealers and I told him - rather loudly - that any tip I got was really appreciated and thanked him for his effort. It fell on deaf ears.

One simple question - what is wrong with some of you people? Why is it so difficult to just SHUT UP if you don’t want to tip? I don’t cut into your action by telling a newbie to take his money home and not play against you so stop cutting into mine. If you don’t want to tip, don’t. But if someone else does, SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Just in case any of you are interested, this is how it goes: The 3% is split in different percentages, the Tournament Directors get their share, then Floor Supervisors, Chip Runners, and Cashiers receive some of it. Then all the dealer downs are totaled and it’s broken down per down for the dealers. If someone leaves a tip for the Tournament Director, it goes into his or her pocket. If someone leaves a tip for the dealers, the Tournament Director gets a slice of that before it is broken down into dealer downs and disbursed. So please don’t think the dealers are getting a huge chunk of change out of the 3%, it just ain’t happening, Kids.

*****
On to a subject I like better - Wall art!

This one is taken at the Wyndham in Aruba. It’s all bottle caps, smashed, and arranged on the wall.

The close up:

This one is taken at the University of Montana; it adorns the side of a building.

Time for sleep…Sandwoman Land is calling.

*Introduction to Mr. Intelli-rock*

Not because he plays tight but his sense of reasoning resembles that of a rock - absolutely no brain waves going on in there. He’s been around the poker scene for years and nothing much changes with him. I believe his name is Frenchie but I haven’t taken the time to find out because I feel better when Intelli-rocks are generic. His game is mostly $30-60 or $40-80 7 Card Stud, sprinkle in a little Holdem now and then. He can usually find a reason to go off on a dealer when he’s losing - I’ve managed to miss his ugly Intelli-rock side for quite awhile now but he jumped right into it last night.

I slid into the box in a full $40-80 Stud game. The 2s was racking up; Nick - 8s -immediately requested the 2s. Nick isn’t a bundle of joy either so it’s pretty close to a toss up as to which one would win the Intelli-rock of The Year Award. As soon as the 2s’s butt left the chair, Frenchie- 5s - jumped up, taking his single stack of chips with him, and headed for the 2s. Nick was still racking his chips for the move. Frenchie sat down and put out his ante.

Nick was bristling and demanded that I tell Frenchie to move. I told Frenchie that Nick has asked for the seat. I got an explosive argument from Frenchie stating that he had asked for the seat first and Nick wasn’t even there.

Nick demanded a decision, I called for one, Dave came over and before I got three words out of my mouth, Frenchie was arguing with me. Dave intervened, Nick stated that he had asked the last dealer and Dave just disappeared. Actually he went to ask the last dealer to verify but no one knew that. So we waited.

Dave came back and said the seat belonged to Nick as the last dealer verified the request. Nick moved, Frenchie jumped up and took Nick’s seat. The game went on. Of course Nick won the first five or six hands and then went out to smoke. The 4s said, “Look at the seat you gave up.”

Frenchie declared, “Linda let him have it.”

I wanted to laugh. Instead I said, “Me?”

Frenchie, “Yes, you. You let him have the seat. He didn’t ask you for it.”

“Yes he did. And I really don’t know why you would think I cared who got what seat.”

That was the end of it, except for his glaring at the side of my head, slamming his cards at the pot once and I told him to set his hand down, his mumbling now and then, and then…mercy of mercies, he busted out and left.

*End introduction to Mr. Intelli-rock*

Intelli-rocks are everywhere…Beware!!! And some of them work or have worked in a casino…including Frenchie!!!

*****
I have stayed away from writing any thoughts on the tragedy in our country, mainly because I can’t bear to watch it or hear about it. Yes, I’m an ostrich with my head in the sand. But my being emotionally distraught will not change the situation or make it go away so I choose the path that works for me.

There are a lot of poker sites that are running charity tournaments but the times of day the tournaments are running are not in my free time so I am making a donation. Give all you can, including prayers and thoughts for everyone in need.

The IPF, poker forum, has been incorporated into the PokerWorks family. Please excuse and work with any problems in signing in and topics. Things will be working better than ever shortly.

*****
I may be the only person in the world of online poker that this has ever happened to…it’s so bizarre and extreme that I have to report it. I was flirting in and out of Single Table NLH Tournaments and playing $2-4 Bad Beat Jackpot Holdem.

When hand # 2657378543 hit, I held the 9-5 of Spades. The Flop came 2C, 10D, 6S. Everyone checked. The 9C came on the Turn, I bet, and got a caller. The River came 10S. I bet again and got a caller. I won the pot - it had $22 in it.

The game froze. The Board cards were still up, my hand was still up, but nothing happened. I finally typed in the chat, asking if it was just me or if the game froze. Several people replied stating it was the game. Almost 10 minutes passed. No one wanted to leave the game as the jackpot was huge and I especially didn’t want to leave because I’d won the pot and it hadn’t been awarded to me yet.

A dealer message came across the chat, ‘this table is being closed for maintenance, we suggest you find another table’ or something to that effect. Everyone left, including me. About 15 minutes later I received this email from Party:

*Begin email*

From: info@partypoker.com
To: geenen@pokerworks.com
Sent: Monday, September 05, 2005 6:16 AM
Subject: We’re Sorry - Game Money Refunded to Your Account

Dear IsleofPoker,

We apologize for the disruption you encountered at ‘Bad Beat Jackpot #1055710′ table on 09/05/2005.

Our records indicate that you had $124.75 at the start of that game. As a result of the disruption, that game has been construed as a ‘misdeal’ and we have refunded the money back to your Account.

We greatly appreciate your support and thank you for playing at PartyPoker.com.

If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to contact us. Our Customer Care Department is open 24/7 and we look forward to serving you.

Sincerely Yours,
Lucy Jones
Customer Care Manager
Party Poker
info@partypoker.com
+1 (800) 852-4719 (Toll Free from US/CAN)
+350 50509 (International Charges Apply)

*End email*

Hells bells!!! I may be the only person that ever won a pot in online poker and then had the hand declared a misdeal. Sweet! It just don’t get any better than this!

Hey…maybe I am the live one…in live and online play. *pondering*

Since TV hit the scene and poker’s become big time, there aren’t nearly as many card throwers and angry players on the scene. It’s great from the dealer angle but it makes for lousy writing. There’s nothing like stress and strife to fire up the pen and light up every adjective known to man/womankind. Lots of crazy things still happen in the poker room and a few people still get out of line, but it doesn’t happen nearly as much as a few years ago. Maybe it’s because there are more new players per capita and they are there for the dance and sheer joy of playing rather than believing ’someone did it to them’ when they lose. So while I’m mulling that one around (there may not be a conclusion later) a few stories.

I played or tried to play poker again on Friday night. I know…I’m starting to sound like the live one. I just sit and watch them all throw all the bets in and the dealer spin the cards off and push the pot, repeat, blip, repeat, blip. I would have won three hands if I could have called a raise and stayed to see the River card, big pots too. But…as it was I finally got the big E/O along about 11 p.m. and left $90 on the table for the kids to fight over. Hey…I’m not giving up. It’s just time for me to work my shift and go play somewhere else on my day off if I want to play live.

I cruised the room on more than one occasion; maybe I was restless or maybe I could have cared less if I looked at one more 7-3 or 9-4 or whatever the hell the reason, I was on the move.

I saw Rene in the Friday $1,000+60 NLH Tournament again. He’s more of regular in the tourney than he is in the Big Game anymore. He won the tournament…I believe this is his second win. Good for him!

While I was strolling into the Poker Room from the Sport’s Book Bathroom, I passed a $10-20 NLH game. Randy was in the 7s and said hello as I passed. I stopped and gave him a mini-shoulder rub while I asked how he was doing. He said since I stopped by, he was going to raise it to $350…and he did.

J. Kwik was in the 9s and he said, “Linda, since you are lucky for me, I’m going all-in.”

Maybe my mouth fell open but I was aghast that I was in the middle of this little scenario so I politely excused myself with something like, “I can’t stay and watch the outcome of this hand.”

I have no idea whether Randy called, folded, or what the hell happened but I’m really not into that type of action. I know they weren’t laying anything on me but I felt uncomfortable with the whole thing. I escaped.

Funny but not funny, last week when I dealt the $10-20 NLH in which Manny was doing his best to extract tips, J. was in the 3s in that game. He put a good-sized raise on two hands back-to-back and ended up pitching by the Turn/River. The second time he looked at me and asked something like, “Are you my lucky dealer, Linda?”

It wasn’t a question that required an answer - but he wasn’t happy. And that’s another huge reason for me to find an immediate exit before the hand with Randy progressed any further.

What is that luck stuff anyway? Since I never had it, I wouldn’t know what the answer is to any of it. I just keep plugging away…knowing that at some point I’m going to win a hand…or get the E/O!