Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Bustin' the Homeys

I had a pretty good night at work last night. It was fairly busy and I'm sure I dropped more than my fair share of tokes. That tends to happen when you are dumping the money. 'Dumping the money' is dealer slang for giving away your rack--busting all the time, dealing lots of winners for the players, and making lots of 17s. I'm completely in favor of dumping my rack when I've got fun players at the table--they tend to tip better when they win, and it makes the table that much more enjoyable because they will stick around longer, too. Even as a stockholder in the company, I don't much care how much the house loses at the tables (I'm sure I'd be a pretty easygoing pit boss) because no matter how much people win, they always go lose most of it back on another game. Nobody knows when to stop. Well, maybe they know, but they just won't.

Anyhow, I had a fairly attractive gal following me around from table to table for the first couple hours of my shift. She started with about a hundy and turned it into almost two grand. Of course since I was the one dealing to her, she stuck to me like glue. That made the evening more fun for me. Finally she wised up when her luck started to turn and left with plenty of black chips when I took a break around 11pm.

But the entire time I was dreading going to another table in the pit that I was scheduled for later in the evening. It was full of the most ridiculous bunch of wannabes I'd ever seen. You know the type. Malibu's most wanted. Bling Bling Pinky Ring all about the East siiiiide, yo! Mere words cannot describe the level of jackassedness and moronitude on display. Clearly they were representin' Henderson's Wonder Bread Posse. The leader of the pack was wearing enough jewelry to make Mr T proud, the crowning jewel being a lion pendant that looked like it was stolen from the front of an MGM Grand limo. Most definitely a 'hood ornament.

So while they were bringing all the attention to themselves at their table, everyone else around them started to get a little tired of it. A few complaints were lodged, but then the heckling began. If they won a hand and started celebrating a little too loud, some random player at another table would yell out something along the lines of 'Shut up White Bread!' Even the players at my table, 30 feet away were making fun of them. Unfortunately they loved the attention. I kept saying a silent prayer that the other dealer would bust them out before I got there.

My table shift ended, I took a break, and twenty minutes later I came back to the pit to see that they were still at the table that I was about to tap into. Great. That's when I go into my 'Shut up and deal' mode--they've chased all the good players away, they're drunk, and they're acting like idiots. In situations like that, I clam up, put my hands in a higher gear, and crank out as many cards as I can.

Luckily the cards came back to the house's favor after my three hours of dumping. I couldn't lose! I made every hand--four-card 21s, five-card 21s, a face under every ace. If they all had an 18 or 19, I pulled a twenty. It was uncanny. Due to all the noise and heavy action, every camera in the joint was on that table, and of course every boss in the pit was watching too. Before long, I had every one of their green and black cheques, and not too long after that, it was down to the true signal of desperation, Money plays! followed by the inevitable Money Down!

It was a thing of beauty.

They walked away completely broke, and a cone of blessed silence surrounded my table. But the general consensus around the pit was that they'd be back as soon as they made it to one of the local 24-hour pawn shops and sold off some of the bling.

Not my concern--I went home shortly thereafter.

Generally, as a dealer, I want the players to win. If they're happy, I'm getting tokes and making more money. I do my best to make sure everyone is having fun regardless of which way the cards are falling. But it's no secret that if you're acting like a jackass at the table, every dealer in the joint is gonna do their best to bust you. With a big smile on their face of course. But that's only because we're not allowed to laugh.


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