Night and Day
There’s a lot I want to say. So much that my thoughts and opinions run together and get scrambled around so much that the words never come out. I’ll just tell you about my day.
My ‘day’ started at 5:15 pm when my alarm went off, about 45 minutes after sunset. I got another 10 minutes of snooze in then showed and went to work. I always wake up in a fairly bad mood, a large part of me wants to stay in bed at least until the sun comes up. On the way in I listen to Poker Road Radio. Those guys helped my mood a bit, got in a few chuckles on the way in listening to Shronk snort Strawberry Milk Powder. My first down is a fairly standard No Limit cash game. Halfway through my down Melissa, a very sweet dealer from across the street sits down and starts playing. Helped my mood a bit. A few minutes later a man sits down wearing a T-shirt with this written on it:
A day without queers!
A week without gays!
A month without homos!
Life without fags!!!
Yeah, not helping my mood. When I get up I mention it to the shift manager who says, “Yeah not good, but what do you want me to do about it.” Tell him that this poker room is a welcoming environment for everyone and that his shirt is not a part of that. If he came in with a shirt that said, “Life without niggers” would you point him towards an open seat or towards the door? That’s what I should have said; instead I just went to the next table and kept dealing.
I circle around the room and get back to that game. I push him a pot and he throws me a tip. I rap it on the box and drop it in my pocket. For the first time in my career I intentionally withheld the typical “Thank You” that’s almost as big a part of my job as shuffling. I don’t want his money. I don’t want that douchenozzle or his intolerant bullshit anywhere close to me or even on this fucking planet.
Meanwhile Melissa calls a raise and says, “If I win this pot I’m tipping you with a hug.” To which I reply, Verbal is Binding. That pot went the right way. My last hand at that table I had to push a big pot to the fucknugget and Melissa goaded him into throwing me $5. Now I’m in a quite the quandary. I have to say something but I might vomit if I thank that dickshit. So I say a sincere “Thank You” with my head pointing towards jerkface but my eyes looking at Melissa. I meant it even more when I collected my hug.
I needed that hug so much more than five dollars.
My ‘day’ started at 5:15 pm when my alarm went off, about 45 minutes after sunset. I got another 10 minutes of snooze in then showed and went to work. I always wake up in a fairly bad mood, a large part of me wants to stay in bed at least until the sun comes up. On the way in I listen to Poker Road Radio. Those guys helped my mood a bit, got in a few chuckles on the way in listening to Shronk snort Strawberry Milk Powder. My first down is a fairly standard No Limit cash game. Halfway through my down Melissa, a very sweet dealer from across the street sits down and starts playing. Helped my mood a bit. A few minutes later a man sits down wearing a T-shirt with this written on it:
A day without queers!
A week without gays!
A month without homos!
Life without fags!!!
Yeah, not helping my mood. When I get up I mention it to the shift manager who says, “Yeah not good, but what do you want me to do about it.” Tell him that this poker room is a welcoming environment for everyone and that his shirt is not a part of that. If he came in with a shirt that said, “Life without niggers” would you point him towards an open seat or towards the door? That’s what I should have said; instead I just went to the next table and kept dealing.
I circle around the room and get back to that game. I push him a pot and he throws me a tip. I rap it on the box and drop it in my pocket. For the first time in my career I intentionally withheld the typical “Thank You” that’s almost as big a part of my job as shuffling. I don’t want his money. I don’t want that douchenozzle or his intolerant bullshit anywhere close to me or even on this fucking planet.
Meanwhile Melissa calls a raise and says, “If I win this pot I’m tipping you with a hug.” To which I reply, Verbal is Binding. That pot went the right way. My last hand at that table I had to push a big pot to the fucknugget and Melissa goaded him into throwing me $5. Now I’m in a quite the quandary. I have to say something but I might vomit if I thank that dickshit. So I say a sincere “Thank You” with my head pointing towards jerkface but my eyes looking at Melissa. I meant it even more when I collected my hug.
I needed that hug so much more than five dollars.