It’s damned seldom anymore that I would deal through any game and receive any grief from any player. There are a few dipshits that like to try to peg cards at dealer’s hands out of spite now and then, and a few super idiots that pitch their cards across the table because they aren’t winning and loudly demand, “Go away Jinx!” as they run out to suck down some cigarette smoke. Yeah, Emy, you know who you are! But most of the poker playing population is pretty well behaved and seriously just comes in to gamble it up and some of them try to prove they can eventually play their way up to a seat in Bobby’s Room. And yes, that’s what I hear from time to time in lower limit games, “Man, someday I want to play in that room!” *heavy sigh*
But let’s not delude ourselves in thinking that we still aren’t going to run into a few of those super charged demons that think the dealer did it to them and they have to try to pick a fight with dealer because they are losing. Well, why else would they pick a fight with the dealer? Obviously if they were winning, it would be their skill set and knowledge that got them there; since they aren’t there, it has to be the dealer that’s doing it to them.
Such an animal is Men “The Master”. Master of what? As far as I can tell, he can’t control anything. And that’s obviously what the rest of this is about. He was in the 4s of a $150-300 half Badugi, half Deuce to 7 game. He obviously wasn’t winning when I got there. He must have gotten 15 phone calls and answered them, “Ong, fwing, om-om, ang, ong-na…” throw a little nasal in there, well that’s how it sounded to me.
He started glaring at me on the fifth or sixth phone call. I smiled at him. WTF! What am I supposed to do here? I didn’t feel like glaring back and I wasn’t doing anything I shouldn’t be doing so I just smiled at him and went on with the game.
Almost at the end of my down, he was heads-up with 7s. They had been three or four handed with raises and it was now down to the two of them. Men stayed pat on the second draw, and got check raised. On the third draw, the 7s rapped pat. I waited. And waited. And waited. Men did nothing, staring in the direction of the 2s with a blank look on his face. After about two minutes.I tapped the table. Was this stupid? How do I know what is stupid to a guy that calls himself ‘the master’? It may have been stupid but it got his attention.
He snapped at me, and this isn’t quoting but his conversation was like this, Why aren’t you waiting for me. I haven’t done anything yet!
I told him I was waiting for him. And the truth of the matter is that I was waiting for him. I knew damned good and well that if I did anything other than what I did, or even asked him if he was thinking about it, he was waiting for the opportunity to BLOW!
He grouched louder – Why did you tap the table then? Why don’t you give me a chance to do something.
I told him I was waiting for him and asked what he would like to do.
He couldn’t even drop it there. It went into more of why wasn’t I allowing him to have time to look at his hand.Why did I tap the table…and on and on and on.
I just sucked right up and played his game. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was waiting for you.”
More tirade.
“I’m really sorry, what would you like to do?”
KEE-RIST! Kiss my ass and call me buckwheat. It was all about control, of which he had none.
He drew one, missed, looked like he was going to blow and decided to move to the 8s, telling me to deal him out.
I’ve known the 1s for years. His name is Jeff. Jeff can be a bit of a stir stick at times and I really like to deal to him. Jeff loudly asked, “Do you want to post?”
Men ignored Jeff. I turned to deal the next hand and said to Jeff, “He already said he didn’t want a hand.”
Jeff replied, “Yeah…but he might change his mind,” as he started laughing.
I smiled and said, “Give me a break…”
I got pushed on the next hand. See ya Mr. OutaControl.
The Master…..what a joke.
I pushed into a 4/8L game one day at the B. The dealer says to me ” Do what you want with that”. Huh?? I look over and see “The Master” coaching a woman in the 7s from a chair behind her. After the 2nd hand it’s obvious he is playing the cards, and I decide to say something when the action is on “them”. But it BB time and they get up to do what ever. So I throw out a missed blind button and go on. They come back and move to the 4s with the chips that were in play and Men takes the players chair instead of the woman, and she sits behind him.
He waits for the button to pass and I ask if he wants to post the $6. He goes into a fit. “I am playing now, I’m a new player, I don’t have to post both the blinds.” I explain, “No, the chips are the same, you were helping the pretty asian lady, you have to post the missed blinds”. Of course I end up calling the floor and he agrees (a surprise sometimes in itself, considering how the treat the “pros” with kid gloves). Men goes ballistic and picks up the $80 and moves to a different 4/8 game with the woman to avoid posting the extra $2.
As he is leaving, I get this “I remeber you, I no tip you ever again” I just couldn’t pass it up and replied “You have never tipped me in your life, so what am I losing?” and deal the next hand to muffled laughter from the rest of the table.
As for the big game….ah never mind, we know what it is really like.