The Degenerate Dealer
I had been dealing Poker for a couple of months before I got my first taste of a Dealers’ game. The club had been so busy, and so short staffed, during its opening period that we hardly had an opportunity to finish early or find time to spend our tips.
What you must understand about Poker Dealers is that the first thing on their mind when finishing work is ‘where can I go and play poker?’ If at all possible they will curtail their shift early to bring forward the start of the poker-playing. Our club must have known this well, for they installed many poker-playing terminals (otherwise known as PCs) within the building. The owners should be applauded for so generously accommodating the needs of their staff.
The internet facilitates individual poker-playing for the Dealer, but it really is just the pre-cursor to the real game. When a critical mass of four Dealers (or three if the need is high) has been achieved, the group will seek a live poker-playing venue to establish a game. This is because internet poker does not provide the array of gambling opportunties provided by a deck of 52 plastic cards. Also its more fun to play live.
Back in the day (eighteen months ago) we Dealers could be found in the 24hr Rileys in town. The nightworkers there were very accommodating of the Dealers’ needs, providing a poker table, chips and a blind eye. The club’s rules stated that no poker competition could take place in which the prize pool exceeded £200. Although the chips we used did not have numerical denominations, I’m sure the staff must have realised what was going on. Particularly when someone said “all-in for £120” or “I’m buying in for three hundred”. Management eventually barred us from Rileys after it became obvious the game was getting too big, around the same time that one session ended in a violent brawl.
How big was this game? 10p-10p Dealer’s Choice. Ten pence blinds with about a grand on (or under) the table. Wild Cards, multiple straddles, and the special kind of degeneracy found in the species known as The Dealer.
We just want to gamble… but as we are poker dealers, we gamble in the mistaken belief that we know what we are doing. We act first, and think of a reasoned explanation later.
How could you call?
“I had 18 outs.” – I have seven outs to the nuts and some chance of making a lower straight than the one my opponent already has.
“I knew he couldn’t have the nut flush” – My seven-high flush must be good because I’ve got three hearts in my hand.
“I had massive implied odds” – I can’t really fold a pair of threes preflop when I’m certain my opponent has aces. If I put two-thirds of my stack in i’m sure that he’ll pay me off when I flop a set.
“I like relaxing with friends after work” – I’ve got a chance of winning all the tips my friends have earned over the week, particularly if they haven’t played these games before. If they have no money left for food or bus fare i’ll lend them £20 until next Sunday.
I could go on and on. One interesting thing about this game is that if you play in it, even with a clear head, with every intention of ‘playing properly tonight’, you are sure to get drawn into the whirlpool of kippers, and sucked down the plughole of fishiness. With very low blinds, most players just toss in a chip before they’ve looked at their cards. Someone raises, five people call. Action comes back round to you. You look at your hand and find that these four or five cards, which just a moment ago seemed as unrelated and as far away from each other as Beijing, The North Pole, Chile and Uttoxeter, have become something quite different. Looking at them again, you see that they have great potential to flop a deceptive low-end wrap. Also, you could always flop quads. You find more reasons to call. The flop brings a gutshot and a backdoor six-high flush draw. You think about ‘making a move at the pot’ and then before you even realise what has happened you have called your entire stack off ‘for value’ after three people went all-in. You are now barracked for being a fish, and while a new hand is being dealt you conjure up a half-baked explanation of your actions. So it goes on.
I quit the game after it got turned over by some random thugs. Three of us were playing in Rileys one night when some lads asked to join the game. Naievely assuming a base level of trustworthiness and decency in strangers, I said yes. Even more naievely, and stupidly, I did not secrete the money in my pocket but left it under the table. Why did I think it was OK for three big lads under the influence of drink and drugs to play cards with us for money? Why did I assume that Rileys was a safe place to be, where members would be held accountable for their behaviour? Rileys – the meeting place for scumbags and desolates.
I wondered to myself about these things as hundreds of chips were sent flying across the room and the poker table crashed to the floor. I wondered about these things as one of the thugs held my arms behind my back and another grabbed the money. Another man kept repeating “How could I be beat?!” very loudly. “How could I be beaten?!! I had the nut flush!!! … The Ace High Flush! Is not beaten by a five high flush!!!!” (think about it).
The Rileys worker just looked on from behind the bar with a dumb look on his face. An even-more-dumb-than-usual look on his face. He politely buzzed the door open for the thugs as they made their way out on to the street with our money.
So the game was driven behind closed doors, where it continues to pop up on Sunday nights, or any night when enough Dealers can congregate. Be careful if you are invited, you will need steel to navigate your way through the cloud of cigarette smoke, the slew of nine-way flops, and the shower of bullshit characteristically brought forth by the species known as The Dealer.
by PoonJoe aka Joe Wrigley
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[...] unknown wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerptI had been dealing Poker for a couple of months before I got my first taste of a Dealers’ game. The club had been so busy, and so short staffed, during its. [...]