It’s about leaving the game from the dealer’s box, and although tipping is mentioned, it’s not the meat of what’s going on. When I leave a game, it’s my standard habit to quietly say, “Thanks everyone, have a good night.” I don’t clap my hands to show I’m not stealing chips (it’s not necessary in poker), I don’t say, “Good luck everyone!” or make a lot of racket to hint for a tip as I leave, or hang out to see if the player that won the last pot I dealt is going to remember me…I just quietly get up and push out of the box.Recently I dealt a game in Bobby’s room, and left the box with -0- in my pocket and when I left, I didn’t say anything, I escaped as quietly as possible. No remorse or grouching on the pocket thing, it’s just the luck of the draw and who wins a pot or how the wind is blowing outside that will determine toking or not. I would rather exit quietly than to appear as if I’m begging or soliciting a tip – it’s a ‘pride’ thing.

Enter the $20-40 7 card stud game and some of the fossils that have been playing it for the last 300 years. I’m starting to feel as if I’m a fossil since I’ve been dealing to a few of these people since the Mirage opened in ’89. This is a specific focus, on one fossil in particular.

Marty – how can one describe him?

I have my view point and that’s where we are, so I’ll go with my description. He’s tall, thin, white hair, usually wears something resembling a jogging or leisure suit (as a matter of fact, I’ve never seen him in jeans or slacks or any kind of dress shirt), and he never has a smile. He’s created some strife for himself in the games because he can’t figure out that poker is a game of skill and luck and that the dealer really doesn’t have anything to do with how he’s ‘running’ and he has to get VOCAL about it.

For quite some time he had to take a walk when Sylvia entered the dealer’s box – he was naughty and said bad things to her and then wanted to keep commenting while she was dealing. Consequently, he couldn’t even sit at the table during her downs.

He also left the game one night when I was dealing, but not because he wanted to, because he was being naughty again. Iknow there are other incidents,these are just two that I specifically know about.

He’s never converted or played any other game that I know of…it’s strictly 7 card stud, and as far as I know he’s never ventured above $30-60 or $40-80. Since stud is not on the huge demand list, at least if the stud game breaks down, I don’t have to think about seeing him in a holdem line-up.

I manage to deal to him frequently though, and it’s always the same, like an old broken record he repeats his actions and statements, as if he were programmed by a mad scientist. To expand that view, it’s possible that Marty doesn’t like anyone – especially himself – and he appears to be completely alone in life. Being completely alone in life does open the social structure that poker affords to those that can’t fit in to some form of social contact with other people. That’s where I believe Marty is, hence the repetitive statements and actions…if he even went to a movie now and then, he would perhaps learn a new line.

Marty was in the 6s in a really active game last night. Chips were flying, the game was on, and Marty was in his usual mode. He didn’t get involved in the first part of my down, then he won a pot – of course it was all skill on his part, I wasn’t even mentioned.

He threw his bets and his antes out with his right hand, sending his chips almost to the rail instead of into the action part of the table. I politely said, “Please push your chips in,” and he did. I said, “Thank you,” and continued with the game. The next time he did it, I just reached for the chips but when I dealt his cards, I purposely dropped them about six inches in front of his hands so he had to reach for them. He stopped being a dolt and started putting his chips out where they should be. Believe me, these guys know exactly what they are doing. And I know exactly what they are doing. And in turn, they know exactly what I’m doing. There’s more than one game going on at the table.

Then he lost a hand. OMG! He didn’t even call the river bet. His cards did a belly flop splat from about a foot and half off the table, landing safely away from me, as he exclaimed, “SHE’S UP TO HER OLD TRICKS!” and then went into mumble mode.

Poor Marty! Another set back in the grand sceme of life.

He glared and stared and then left for a few minutes. He was back when I got pushed. I did my standard exit, “Thanks everyone, have a good night.”

He glared at me as I pushed back, “You have a good night too!” venom dripping off of his words.

I was standing by now, pushing my chair back, “Well thank you. If will.”

As I walked around the end of the table on my way to the next game, he said, “You took care of my hand.”

I started laughing. “I take care of a lot of things. Stick around. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

And I was past him, going to a game of laughing people that were there to play poker and have fun. These new faces didn’t have years of anger and frustration with life crusted in their thoughts and on their frames…even the ones that are the same age as Marty.They didn’t give me a crappy comment when I left their table, they thanked me for dealing to them.