Call me daddy!

It’s business as usual…poker here, poker there, people running in from all over the world, wins/losses, stories galore…one place opens…one place closes. You just go with the flow. Oh, one important factor here, you’re a female dealer/player.

You open a new casino…high limit poker and the works…it’s not your first but you’re hoping it’ll be your last. Like maybe Ed McMahon does have your phone number after all or maybe that guy that kept sticking his knee into your thigh while you were dealing bought you a lottery ticket and will call to tell you that you’ve won the biggest jackpot in history. (Is this a total dream or what?)

You’re dealing a $4-8 limit holdem game and a guy you’ve never seen before is at your table…he’s got a fixation…it’s you! He barely has time to look at his cards because he keeps giving you this look like he’s been on a desert island for 10 years with nothing but sand or he’s been at the local bar in the Yukon and the only thing he’s seen is a Polar Bear…so you’re it!

Each time you look up…he tries to improve his ‘eye’ contact with you by fading into a glassy stare…that might have been sexy during the 60’s but come on…this is the 90’s, (don’t correct this story as it started in the 90’s).

You deal to him off and on for about 6 months and he even comes up in a conversation with a friend of yours that’s a female dealer…she gets the same thing from him. Now you know that everything ‘female’ is getting the ‘eye’ contact when they go through the box and he’s in the game. He really loses points for this one.

After a year or so…he’s playing $15-30 and then suddenly $30-60. You still get the same ‘eye’ contact from him each time you deal the game he’s in. The first 5 to 6 times you deal to him, you’re irritated at the way he keeps looking at you and then suddenly…it’s funny. Each time you see him watching every move you make, you just smile, give him the ‘eye’ back and move on to the next game.

Then one day, he insists that everyone call him Papa Smurf.

He starts talking, of course he’s looking at you, it’s as if the rest of the players are non-existent chairs and you’re alone with him in a mountain chalet with a fireplace, sipping wine after the Jacuzzi……

“My wife left me! After 23 years she left me for a woman, said she was just faking it with me!”

You reply, “Really?”

He always has a comment, wants to show you his tattoos, wants to see your tattoos, (whether you have any or not), this guy wants to get up close and personal or have a one on one holdem contest. He always paints the picture that he knows you intimately…away from the poker table. You continue to laugh and smile as you know it’s a joke.

One night you’re dealing a $30-60 holdem game and the whole table is perfect for a little fun and camaraderie. He’s there, in the 10 seat, next to you. You deal a few hands and he takes off his wedding ring…showing you the empty space on his left hand.

“She left me. All those years…said she was faking it…left me for another woman!”

“She finally wised up, huh?” You ask.

The table rejoices with your comment and the game begins…not the game of poker.

You push him a pot and he gives you $.50…you rap it and say, “Thank you!”

He says, “You’d thank me all right! You’d never stop thanking me.”

You start laughing and reply, “You wouldn’t even know how to handle me, darling, or what you got yourself into.”

There’s a cowboy in the 5 seat right across from you and he’s laughing so hard, he almost falls off of his chair.

Our boy replies, “She left me for another woman!”

“Do you blame her? You must not be as great as you think you are.”

He puts on his wounded look, “Why would you talk about this across the poker table?”

You’re feeling a little defiantly frisky, after all, you’ve put up with those eyes sliding over your skin for the last year and half, (yes, we’re into the year 2000 by now). “Why not? I’ve listened to you bring your wife up for over a year at the poker table, in front of everyone, so why shouldn’t we talk about her now?”

“She left me for another woman!”

“Good for her, she finally figured it out, Smurf!”

Oh yes, you’re still dealing, the game’s still running and people are still betting, calling and stacking chips. It’s not very often that you find a game that you can/will talk in…but this one is the exception. The whole table is enjoying the act and you’re part of the play.

“Call me daddy! My wife is gone so call me daddy.”

You’re really getting into the swing of this game so you retort, “Where is that Lipstick Lesbo?”

“Why? Do you want to go out with her?” Now his eyes are glued to you and he’s trying lean into your arm in his attempt to hear your answer.

“I might! Get her in here and have her march past the table so I can get a good look!”

You don’t even do females but the game is on and you’re running to a captive audience. The other players are laughing and enjoying the whole scene.

Suddenly your down is over…you’re being tapped out. He jumps up as you leave the game and shows you a picture of what he used to look like before he lost weight.

Innocently you say, “So-o-o-o? What do you want me to say?”

He replies, “That I look great.”

You are moving to the next game but you take the time to appease the ego and say, “You are the sexiest, greatest hunk of mankind that I’ve every seen!”

He smiles.

A week later you deal to him again and he introduces you to a friend of his that came in from…who knows where…you smile, acknowledge, go thru the down.

Sadness here! A few weeks later you move thru a $30-60 stud game and they’re talking about 2 players that committed suicide. You know them both. One of them was Papa Smurf.

You try to think about what he was telling you all those times…the eyes…the comments…what was hidden underneath all of it?

There are over 6 billion people on the face of the Earth, you never know their inner thought or what motivates them…where they are with themselves or how they got there…you just touch a small part of their being when you share the table with them.

See you there!