I have the teensiest bit of a primal scream starting somewhere in the back of my brain and it’s been there for the last three hours. I signed the E/O list – was supposed to be out at 1 a.m. but the room was crazy with action, action, action, ‘gaming’, poker – important kind of things that cannot be ignored – and I ended up pushing Table 2 when I was supposed to be long gone. The scream isn’t there because I didn’t get the E/O when I should have – it’s there because of a player on Table 2.
Scotty Nguyen, World Class Player, turned sour in my thoughts a long time ago, was in the 7s. The game was $300-600 Mixed and when I first sat down, he had a lady sitting behind him. He jammed it up in one hand of Omaha 8b and when the hand went to the River, with four players…him included…he pitched his hand and mumbled something about “Linda…dealing…”
A few more hands went by and he played another to the Turn, this time he pitched his cards right at my hands and the rack. He missed! My thought – if you’re going to throw cards at me, make sure you hit me…why waste all the effort? I pulled my hands back and he missed me completely although the cards rattled in the rack. I even half mumbled, “You missed,” as I was dragging in other chips and cards. By now the lovely sitting behind him had left the scene.
Enter a new player, he sat down in the 6s with a stack of $100 bills and announced, “Playing $6,000. I’ll take the blind.”
I called for player’s chips twice. Loudly. The second time, Scotty snorted something like, “He’s got money, he doesn’t need chips. Just deal him in!”
No shit Sherlock. Exactly what I intended to do. Far be it from me to tell the great World Class Player that split games play better with chips than cash.
Daniel Negreanu was in the 5s and I would swear on any stack of Bibles and a few gallons of wine that I have never – repeat never – saw him without that impish grin and bedevilment in his eyes. I just can’t believe this guy ever has a bad day…no matter where he’s at or what he’s doing. He was jamming. He got involved with the 6s on the first hand and won the pot.
By now a Chip Runner arrived and asked if we needed player’s chips. The 6s said he didn’t need them now. The next hand ended up with Scotty and the 6s having a tie for low and Daniel having the high. There were a lot of those crispy critter, brand new, sticking together $100s in the pot and they were hard to pull apart. As I counted them into two stacks (high and low) I thought I’d miscounted and tossed one to Daniel asking him to count it. He did.
At this point in time, as I counted the other stack, Scotty mumbled, “Fucking grandma!”
At the same time, Daniel told me how much was in the stack he counted and I threw a $100 chip to him to make his bills/amount the same as the stack of bills I counted. I set the stack of bills down and Scotty grabbed it, dividing it between himself and the 6s.
By now it was registering…somewhere in the recesses of my brain that he called me a ‘fucking grandma’ but I had let the moment slip past to call for a Floorperson.
As I split up the main pot and pushed the high half to Daniel and started to break down the low half, Scotty barked, “Push it over here and let me divide it.”
For one half of one long second, as I broke the chips into two stacks, I thought about jumping up on the table and kicking him in the throat…instead I held onto both stacks and firmly replied, “Just let me DO MY JOB, Scotty!”
Mike W. was in the 1s and he helped me out with, “She’s got to split the pot, Scotty.”
The 6s pulled out another stack of bills and finally another player chimed in and said, “Get some chips for those bills. It takes forever to chop down a split pot with those in it.”
Ha – ha – ha! Mr. World Class Pro…see…I knew what I was doing when I called for chips.
We moved into Deuce. Daniel bowed out, laughing and chuckling as usual, and went on his way. Scotty won three big pots in a row. Not bad dealing from a fucking grandma now.
As I was getting pushed, Scotty threw a $5 chip off to the side, kind of like it was for me but he didn’t care if I saw it or not. I hated to take it. But truthfully…in our room we always have to be gracious and accept a tip and say, “Thank you!” which I did. I believe I’ll save it and sometime when I pass him away from the room, I’ll throw it to him and remark, “How about if this fucking grandma buys you a drink…you look like you need one.”
His calling me a grandma doesn’t bother me at all. His calling me a fucking grandma irritates the hell out of me because he simply called me a name because I was dealing and he was losing. I’d done nothing wrong, no mistakes, never slowed the game, didn’t have any creep comments come out of anyone but him BECAUSE HE’S A SORE LOSER!
The thing that really irritated me is me. I should have instantly called the floor on his mean mouthed butt and gotten it handled. Geez! I hate next time. I know there will always be one with someone in the room…why the hell can’t they just play poker?