Archive for the 'Poker Tales' Category

You sit down in the dealers box, scramble up the deck, and shuffle and deal the first hand of your shift. The player in the 3 seat has “the look” tattooed on his/her face - can’t be removed even with laser surgery. Of course you know what “the look” is. There’s anger, hatred, frustration and blind, stupid, ‘I’m to dumb to figure it out’, pouring out of their eyes and it’s all directed right at you.

Win or lose, that player is going to try to make your life as miserable as possible throughout the short time you spend dealing to him/her. Their cards either come in just short of light speed or they sit one inch from the player’s hands.
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Your new to poker. You’ve wanted to play more than once but every time you thought about it, your temperature went up, your breath started to explode in and out of your lungs, your heart began to race and you felt an anxiety attack coming on that would send even a lepton to a cardiac specialist.

One day…from some unknown reason…you decide to sit down in a poker game. A real live game with a center dealer, in a casino. You’ve read a few books and listened to all of your friends talk about how it’s the best play in the casino, “There’s no house edge! You play against the other players and a lot of them are tourists!” Which means they are inexperienced like you - and it’s all in fun anyway. Right? Right!!!!
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Look at the game on table 10! All new faces, no leisure suits or fans and more chips on the table than the cashier’s cage has in it. The pots are so big the dealer has to forklift them to the winner, which by the way, (no matter who it is), is still stacking chips while they reach for the next hand. This could be the game of the year. Year? Hell . . . this could be the game of the century!

You’re already on the transfer list, (that’s a given when you walk through the door), and someone wants to move from table 10. You walk over and take a quick look to see if the person who wants to transfer has a Dr. bending over them. No one with a brain or a pulse could leave that game.
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You’ve been on a roll - you’re picking up Aces and Kings and winning with them. Picking your spots and games - shifting gears for the curves and speeding up at the perfect time and braking for the downgrade with the skill of a veteran, cross country hauler. You’re so used to leaving the game with a win that when it turns around, you’re not sure if these are your cards or if you’re at the right card room or even if you’re awake. This could be a nightmare.

The game is rocking and rolling around you. You’re in the big blind - player “A” (in late position and new to the game) raises - the button and the small blind both call - there are three players behind you that have played every hand since you sat down and you know they’re calling. You look down to the J-9 of diamonds and call. As predicted the other three climb right into the action.
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You’re here to play. The game is $75-150 Stud and everyone at the table is serious. Their skin appears almost gray with the need to win. The chips are slamming into the pots and its 3 and 4 way action every hand. Chips are being moved across the table like casinos are imploded in Las Vegas.

There’s a guy (Da Guy) in the three seat that looks like he has no business being in the game. Da Guy’s antsy, younger than most of the players. He stands up - watching the game at the next table which is $40-80 stud - then he’s back in his seat, putting up an ante for the next hand. Fidgeting back and forth, he watches the dealer like a hawk ready to swoop in and pick up his next meal.
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Consider the following and please don’t ever tell anyone that these stories might be true - even though they probably are.

One night Sam Sham gets off work at Caesar’s Palace and decides to go to the Horseshoe with a couple of his buddies. They are planning on cashing their checks and gambling, having a few drinks, maybe some food and then heading for home.
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To attain a full understanding of the tale about to unfold, you must first picture yourself as an attractive female that holds down a position as a poker dealer. For some of you this will be impossible so why not skip this article and go to another one. For those of you that have an appreciation for all walks of life - read on.

It’s 9:00 p.m. and you’ve just started your shift in a small town that has 24 hour poker. There isn’t a dress code as in black and whites so you’ve chosen a filmy, lavender blouse with a lace camisole underneath and a black, knee length skirt with black heels. You could possibly be mistaken for someone’s date but remember that you’re seated at the poker table waiting for your evening players to come in.

A guy that looks like he crawled out of the nearest dumpster - matted hair, grungy attire, unwashed and scary - comes stumbling through the door on his way to the bar. He takes one look at you, stops and states, “If I can sell this watch, I’m taking you to dinner!”
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