Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Pitch’n Cards

"Moral of the story," seat 9 a drunkard from out of town said dramatically, "don't chase, because you might hit," his cards were almost at the center of the table, he slowly turned one over and then next, "...and still lose." He cackled and nobody joined him.

"Good pot," I say. The jerk in the nine seat wins again. A $500 pot and he tosses me a single. Generous.

His opponent, Gene D, a regular wearing his hoodie with his website, www.gulfcoastpoker.net emblazoned all over it, is irate. He turns red and lowers his sunglasses to glare at seat 9. Gene D does not like to get slow rolled.

As I go to the shuffle machine I meet eyes with Gene. He shakes his head in anger. I nod. I understand completely.

When I'm pitching cards I do little things to keep it interesting. I'll try and land them under a player's hands if they are resting on the table, I'll try and topple a chip stack if it's close to the action or I'll make a complaining player have to stretch to get to them. The nine seat has had to do a lot of stretching to get to his cards. He's been on a 5 hour heater and is weighing down his side of the table with redbirds and yet he's barely thrown us dealers a bone. Plus, he's slowrolling like his a 9th grader playing cards for the first time.

At the dealer change, Janie told me to beware and she wasn't kidding, Seat 9 is a no tipping asshole.

Assholes that don't tip deserve to be fucked with. I'm not obvious about it as sometimes the nice people that actually do tip, tend to take sides against a lippy dealer. But if they really push me, like this guy has done a couple of times, most people will side with the dealer.

It's tough being liked when you are pitching cards. Only one person can be happy per hand. And per revolution that means I've made most of the table mostly unhappy. The idiots don't seem to grasp they are only "entitled" to win one hand in 10. If they have any talent they might be able to drag 2 or 3 out of ten or win huge pots instead of small ones and turn a profit. But the way they see it, they want to win 10 hands in 10.

Sure I say the sarcastic "thank you" when they give me nothing, but with a jerk like this one it means nothing. Right over his head. Or sometimes they'll catch it, as he did a hand ago. "I've tipped you already," he bitched. "You want all my profit? This rake's killing me anyway. Moral of the story, just do your job, deal the cards, and be thankful you found somebody willing to give you a paycheck. Or go to college and get real job." He winked too. I hate fucking winkers. Moral of the story?

Sometimes, I make a face when I push a pot and nothing's pushed my way. On this guy, that would be worthless, so I just join the other 9 players in hating him and in wishing bad karma on the dude. Problem is it's not coming.

On top of that the rest of the table starts to get mad at me because this guy's winning so big. Like it's my fault. Like we dealers want the dipshits that don't tip to win all the pots. Like we want to piss off the regulars in seat 1 and 2 that "over" tip on a good night. Like we want more of this guy's abuse.

I subtlety try to clue in a couple of the familiar faces I'm pulling for them. They don't get it as they angrily throw their cards to the muck.

Another pot to him and he informs the table it's like taking candy from 9 babies. He's got a table on tilt. Sweet.

Seat 1 gets involved in a big hand. Seat 1 is a tight ass. He's not going to showdown without second nuts at a minimum. I fear that's all he'll have though and seat 9 will have the nuts. The way the night's been going of course he will.

At the river, the board gets paired and suddenly the flopped flush is in danger. Looks like seat 9 just got lucky… again. He's bellying up to the table, "What you got?" he says to seat one. My dealer shift is over after this hand. Phuong is waiting behind me, I give him the look and he knows just what kind of person seat 9 is.

All the chips were in at the turn. Seat 9, the slowrolling asshole pushes his cards forward just a bit. It's the dramatic flair the dick employs, "I ain't got much…"

Seat 1 knows he's beat and shows the flush fully aware he's about to get slowrolled. Seat 9 "Wow, ace high flush." Just like he did to Gene D, he further pushes his cards face down toward the center of the table as though he's beat. I wink at seat 1. And as quickly as I can, before the speech starts, I sweep up seat 9's cards with a no-look motion and put them into the muck.

Seat 9 is enraged. "You pushed them to the muck, sir." I sweep the huge pot to seat 1, eye Phuong again and quickly leave.

Moral of the story asshole, don't fuck with the dealer.

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