*post continued*
I went back tomy seat in my game. After a few more hours, Gary came to pick up Marie and she left me in the clutches of the woman I couldn’t beat in the 6s. It was a great game, I just could never put anything together. I made one small rally about midnight. I had the chance to meet and visit with a new player on my left, Leon, what a great guy and gentle soul he is. Then the Queen of Anger Enforcement took the seat that Marie had vacated.
To say she was over weight would be a complete falsehood…she was giantly obese. Perhaps 5’5″ish, maybe early 40’s, one of her thighs was as big as my body. We were playing 10 handed on a stud table, wonderful space for eight players – not 10. She brought some of her chips to the table in her hands, transferring in from another game, and as she set them down, her handbag slipped off her shoulder and slammed into my side and thigh. She never said a word to acknowledge that. Oblivious to the fact that the rest of us are air breathers too, she screamed, “HI!” into the side of my head. I acknowledge back with a much quieter version, and she went off to get the rest of her goods and came back to set her drink down about two inches from my drink, as she started lining her chips up under the dealer’s arm, while she was still standing.
I grabbed the edge of the napkin and slid her drink over towards her area, moving it about six inches. She sat down and pushed it back over in front of me, leaving about 18 inches of free space in front of her, putting her chips in a single file row parallel to the dealer’s box; right beside the game plaques and starting the first stack out into the ‘war zone’, forcing the dealer to send the cards around the edge of her chips or deal her cards about eight inches from her hands. Don’t worry, she had a tiz over that later, asking more than one dealer to ‘deal my cards right here, to me, please.’ Only it didn’t come off as please. A few of them even tried explaining to her that her chips were in the way. *phlag* (phlag – my term for phlegm and gag combined)
I slid her drink a few inches towards here again, this time requesting, “Would you mind moving this over a few inches?”
She barked at me, “I don’t have any space!” as she moved it back, even closer to my drink than it was before.
I always keep my chips directly in front of me, about four inches from the rail, and put all of my drinks, phone, and miscellaneous junk between my chips and the rail. I sit with my arms around my chips, in a space that’s about half the width of my shoulders. I couldn’t even get my arm between my drink and hers. The red flag was waving in front of my eyes…
I sarcastically retorted, “Neither do I!”
She snapped, “None of us have any space, get used to it!”
I am a Taurus…guess that red flag was just too much for me to deal with so I did the ‘bite off my nose to spite my face’ thang. I grabbed her drink, slid it directly up against mine, and snapped, “Well…how about this? How about if I put your drink right here so it’s not in YOUR way and I’ll keep my arm in my lap and use my other hand to look at my cards and chips?” I was fuming, my voice showed it, I was glaring at her, and something must’ve gone off in her head.
She immediately put her hand out to shake hands with me, “I’m having a really bad…”
I didn’t want to shake her hand. There’s a huge downside to working at a place you’re playing in. I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself and take that drink and shove it up her ass. *tell us how you really feel, Linda*
But instead, I shook her hand. She managed to move her drink back to the original position, giving me four inches of arm room. Rob was our dealer and he asked the players to shift a little bit, they did, I did, but she never budged on her stance that she required two feet in front of her to place her chips and drinks. She was a horrible player, which I knew immediately from her comments and hands she played. She showed her cards to the dealer before she folded and then did the screaming horse laugh thing when they got there on the river. She table talked about the board cards, the hand in progress, and who had what, until I quietly cautioned her against it. Don’t worry, the dealers never stop this type of crap at the table. She suddenly decided we could get along.
The 6s continued to beat me to death. And then the 1s was miraculously out of $$$. She had $1 left when Jeff dealt her in. She turned to me and asked me if I would loan her $3 to play the hand with as she spread her arms to display lonely $1 chip.
I looked at the dealer and said, “She has to have the amount of the smallblind to be dealt in.”
Jeff likes to make the rules as he goes along. He confidently stated, “I will allow it!” Meaning she could play the hand for $1. If you don’t know why that’s idiotic and bad for the game, I’ll explain it at another time.
I stood by my guns. I was tired of her bleating and howling with derisive laughter each time she threw a winner away, and her crappy assed attitude that she was the only player at the table that deserved space and to win. I replied, “The house rule is the small blind amount has to be in front of a player for them to be dealt into the hand.”
Jeff called for a decision. Jimmy – front brush – came over. Jeff told Jimmy the circumstances. Jimmy said, “They have to have the amount of the small blind to be dealt in…*pause*…but she can play this hand.”
WTF??? How’s that for a decision? That’s why I can’t stand to play where I work at times.
She flopped a gutterball straight draw, turned a four flush, and missed everything. See ya Nancy! Kee-rist I was glad when she was gone. So was every one else.
I managed a little come back and had chips in front of me, and then I picked up K[s]-K[h] and raised it. I got four or five callers. The flop brought A-9-3, all hearts. The dreaded 6s was in there and came out firing, the 7s called, it got to me and I raised. The 6s raised, the 7s called, I raised, and the 6s was all-in for $1 of my raise. The 7s called. We had a $6 side pot to shoot for. The turn brought a blank. The 7s checked, I checked. I was seriously giving him credit for an Ace. The river brought one more blank. He fiddle/fumbled out a bet. I showed my Kings and folded (I have no idea why I showed them…pity for myself I suppose). The 6s turned over Q[h]-8[h]. Crap…I couldn’t get around this woman. But I knew she either had a flush or an Ace the way the betting went. And the 7s showed K[d]-4[d], like he’d done something really wonderful by calling all those raises on the flop with a completely dead draw.
I started laughing, “Congratulations on out playing me for a $6 side pot.”
The rest of the players busted up. It was a nice tension reliever for me. I was tense and kept trying to tell myself to just settle in. I have to admit I was really frustrated with the 6s holding over me in every hand and I could never put a redraw on her.
Wegot a few new players and the 9s appeared to have no clue what he was doing other than the fact that he was sitting at the poker table. He gave me the big timid smile at one point. I smiled back.
Just after I thought I was in the rally mode, I picked up A-Q and raised it pre-flop. I got the 9s as my only caller.The flop brought A-2-6. He bet, I raised, he called, and the turn was a 9 or something off to my hand. The 9s checked, I bet, he called. The river brought another blank and he checked. I thought I had the best hand and I bet. When he called, I turned over my hand, face up on the table. He held his cards up, looked at them, and threw them face down towards the dealer. I do not know if the player in the 8s told the 9s that he had two pair or if the 9s suddenly realized that he had two pair, but some form of noise went on and he was able to reclaim his hand. He had A-2 off.
I just turned my hand face down and pushed it in. Rene was dealing. He said, “I’m so sorry, Linda.”
I just quietly replied, “It’s ok, he had the best hand.”
Several players on my end of the table started making noise, “His hand was in the muck.”- “He threw his hand away.”
The long and short of it is that even if he did throw it away, and it was retrievable, he’s going to get the chips. The worst of it is that the dealer should have scooped it immediately into the muck. Stick a fork in me.
I put my chips in a rack and bade everyone good night. I just ran out of steam with the game. The 6s had about $200 in front of her again and I wasn’t going to help her further her cause, and I’d been in the bad hand mode for the last three hours. And, there may have been another Nancy in my future and I just couldn’t handle it. After I cashed out, I came back by the table and touched the 9s’s arm. When he looked up, I said, “I’m not leaving because you won that hand. I’m leaving because I’m too tired to play anymore.”
He beamed! Good for poker and for my heart. There’s no reason for me to have a fit over things I cannot change. So ended my week of work at Bellagio. And some of the above is one of the reasons that I like online poker. Pick any banner on the left, get into a game. See you there!