"You're A Grumpy Old Man"

Sadly, getting into it with assholes is a rather regular feature of this blog.  And so, on Christmas night, of all nights, I ran into another asshole and here is that story.

Said asshole was from Chicago, and he mentioned that repeatedly.  He also mentioned that he usually plays 5/10 back home, but was only playing 1/2 there in Vegas to kill time while his buddy was playing roulette.  He was middle-aged, bald, and had a vague European accent.  He was a very active player.  Played a lot of hands, raised preflop or called preflop raises a lot more often than the average player. 

He was in seat 5.  In seat 6 was a guy from North Carolina.  NC and Chicago had obviously just met at the table sometime before I arrived and had become instant buddies.  NC had a similar style to Chicago and they liked playing with and at each other.  I think if they could have made the game heads up with just the two of them, they would have jumped at the chance.  If one of them was in the pot, the other one would generally be there too.

One time, after Chicago made a bet, NC announced raise and was trying to figure out how much to raise to.  It was a multi-way pot. So Chicago said to him, “Raise to X….I’ll call that.”  Well that of course was totally inappropriate in a mult-way pot (and in some rooms, even in a heads up pot).  The dealer sadly sad nothing, but Seat 1, who was in the hand, said to Chicago, “You can’t say that.”

Chicago begged to differ.  “Well, I just said it, so I guess I can.”  Seat 1 shot back, “Well, you can’t say that, it’s not right.” Chicago responded, “Well, obviously I can say it, I proved you wrong. Be quiet.”  At this point the dealer said something, not sure what, but I guess there was a mild warning about “one player to a hand.”  Meanwhile North Carolina started to say something to Seat 1 about minding his own business, he seemed even more agitated than Chicago.  Well of course, since Seat 1 had a hand, it definitely was his business.  Anyway, at this point Chicago said to North Carolina, “Let it go, it’s ok,” and the hand went on.

I mentioned that story to kind of paint a picture of Chicago.  The other thing you need to know was that the cash drawings promo I’ve mentioned a thousand times were still going on during this time.  Fill out a ticket for the drawing every time you get a flush or better, remember?  You didn’t have to win the pot to get the ticket, but your hand must have been live. You couldn’t fold to a bet and still get a ticket. 

Well there was a hand where this came up.  Seat 1, Chicago and one other guy were all in the hand at the river.  The other guy made a bet on a board with 4 hearts on it.  Seat 1 folded.  Chicago folded too, but he turned over one of his cards—the 9 of hearts, I believe.  The guy who bet took the pot, but he also showed his hand so he would get a drawing ticket.  He had the Ace of hearts for the nut flush.  All fairly routine.

Except that Chicago said, “Well I get a ticket too.”  And the dealer, to my shock, gave him a ticket to fill out.

I should mention this dealer was one of the new dealers that they had hired during the summer, and I hadn’t seen her very much since the summer.  I couldn’t believe this dealer gave him a ticket when he hadn’t called the river bet.

I was about to speak up when Seat 1 beat me to it.  “I had a flush too.”   Chicago said, “Well, you don’t show.  I showed, so I get a ticket.”  Seat 1 said, “No, you have to call to get the ticket, showing doesn’t matter, you have to call to get a ticket.”  Chicago said, “No, I showed, I get a ticket.”

The dealer kind of sat there like a deer in the headlights.  I was amazed this dealer didn’t know the rule.  It’s been that way since they started the promo a year or two ago.  The dealer wasn’t new to the room.  What the hell was going on?

I was sitting in seat 9 directly to the dealer’s right.  So I said to her, “He doesn’t get a ticket because he didn’t call.  You know that.  He’s gotta call to get the ticket.”

The dealer kind of went, “ummm…ummmmm…..let me call the floor.”  Wow, this dealer was really that clueless?  Ok then. Meanwhile, Chicago addressed me and said, “No, you get a ticket, you just have to show.”  The dealer had turned the light on for the floor and all I said was, “That’s not the rule.”  Chicago said to me, “What do you care?”  I said, “Well, the rule is the rule.” 

Before I could say anything else, Seat 1 came to my defense, “Maybe he’s got tickets in there, and your getting a ticket you don’t deserve reduces his chances of getting picked. It’s not fair.”  Well, good logic, but at the time, I didn’t have a single ticket in the drum. I said, “Do you know how many times I didn’t get a ticket when I had a flush and folded?” 

By this time Chicago had returned his completed ticket to the dealer, who put it off to the side while waiting for the floor to show up.  In the meantime, we continued to the next hand.  It was a busy night and it took a while for the shift manager to show up, but eventually he did.  After the dealer explained the issue, I was expecting him to express either surprise or displeasure (or both) at his dealer for not knowing this basic rule, but he did not.  But of course he explained to both the dealer and Chicago that he doesn’t get a ticket because his hand wasn’t live at the end, just as I had said.

To his credit, Chicago took the news well, he even shook the shift manager’s hand and thanked him. The dealer ripped up the ticket and gave it to the shift manager, who moved on to his next crisis. 

That should have been the end of it, but as soon as the shift manager was out of sight, Chicago looked at me and said, “Is your heart pounding?”  Huh? I said, “What?”  He said, “Was your heart pounding?”  I shrugged and said, “I’m fine.”

Then he asked, “Do you live alone?”  WTF?  I let out a laugh and didn’t answer.  So he continued, “Yeah you live alone.  You’re just a grumpy old man….and you live alone…you’re a grumpy old man.”  Yeesh.

I was not pleased.  But I didn’t say anything and I kept my cool.  I kind of looked at the dealer to see if she would say anything.  Dealers are not supposed to let players insult other players like that.  But she was silent.

Hmm….I considered asking to call the floor back and telling him what the guy said.  And then also complain about the dealer, who not only didn’t know the promo rules, but didn’t know she should warn the jerk not to insult other players.  But I resisted the temptation.  It was after all Christmas night, and I didn’t really want to get anyone fired on Christmas.

At that point, I knew I would never feel comfortable with Chicago at the table.  So after a few hands I got up and requested a table change.  In the meantime, since I was quite pissed at the dealer, I vowed to myself that if I ever won a pot that she dealt, her tip would be non-existent. But she never pushed me a pot—not that night, or the rest of my trip.

There was also another reason for the table change.  I was thinking of it anyway because of the temperature at the table.  It was very cold there, uncomfortably so.  I had resisted moving because I thought with Chicago and NC putting chips in play, it was actually a table I could have made some money at.  But now there was just too much discomfort there. 

Unfortunately, the table I moved to was extremely tight.  It’s unfortunate when non-poker related reasons influence table selection.  At the new table, the temperature was acceptable. And so rather than risk moving to a game where it would be freezing, I stayed there the rest of the night at a crappy table.

All because the dealer didn’t know the rules.  I suppose that Chicago being the dick that he was, we might have eventually gotten into it over something else if it hadn’t been the promo.

I dropped about $100 at the first table mostly on a nut flush draw that didn’t hit.  Nothing much happened at the second table.  It was a losing night at poker and all I got out of it was aggravation and unpleasant story to tell.