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April 4, 2020 - Adventures in HellwQrld
37:24
Dealing WSOP: Learning to Hate the Rich

Don't deal the World Series of Poker. It really sucks, but at least you get to badmouth people over a decade later about it. Get bonus content on PatreonSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/hellwqrld. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Hello everyone, Poker and Politics here.
Time to tell you my tale of dealing the 2009 World Series of Poker.
It was a real eye-opener about how rich people treat poor people.
So if you ever wanted to find a group of people that would probably crawl across broken glass to vote for Bernie Sanders or join Rose Twitter, you should probably find anyone under the age of 40 who has dealt the World Series for a year or two.
At least at that point you're still, like, scarred.
You still have some pride and some dignity.
After a couple years you get beaten down and just think that this is the way people should be treated.
So, it's awful when you get stuck dealing really high stakes poker games at the World Series, mind you.
It happens everywhere, but particularly at the World Series for the simple reason that The dealers are bad, because they hire everyone.
Because they need dealers.
They need buddies.
They gotta get people in there to deal the games, or else they're not going to be able to run the tournaments, or the cash games, or anything.
So, two legs and a pulse, and a vague understanding of how the games work, and you can get a job dealing the World Series.
It's really not a badge of honor.
It's kind of just a part-time gig that dealers grab when they need a job.
And I needed a job in the summer of 2009 because this thing happened where the economy exploded in 2008 and Las Vegas was literally destroyed.
Everyone's showing all the creepy photos of the strip being dark and all these casinos being shut down due to the coronavirus.
That was what the Great Recession was to Vegas.
Just not as visually devastating because Vegas is a lot of ways the canary in the coal mine.
When stuff goes wrong, Vegas feels it fast.
And so the Great Recession hits, and everything just goes so badly.
And a lot of poker rooms got closed down, including mine.
So I was out of a job, and I was clicking on unemployment.
And because it was a Great Recession, they just kept giving us more and more unemployment, and there was no jobs to be had.
And finally, it got to the point where I needed a job because my unemployment was running out.
The World Series was coming up, boom, got in there.
World Series, time to start throwing some cards.
So now, the first thing that I've got to tell you about, the first horror, is Edition and I Pass, which again, everyone's going to pass.
We had ten dealers, and I swear to God, at least four of them pushed half the pot to the wrong person in the Omaha 8 section.
You were allowed to deal two hands of Texas Hold'em if you wanted to.
You didn't have to, because they figured that if you were auditioning to deal the World Series, you knew how to deal Texas Hold'em.
So if you wanted to just deal two hands of hold'em to get the nerves out, you could do that.
Then you dealt two hands of Omaha 8 or better, Pot Limit Omaha 8 or better, and you had to read the board to chop up the high and the low, and you had to determine what a pot bet was.
Then you had to deal two hands of seven cards, stud eight or better.
And then you had to deal two hands of deuce, seven, triple draw.
That was the audition.
And they just passed everybody, because again, they just didn't care.
I had a roommate at the time.
Three or four days later, my roommate auditions.
Somehow, some way, he fails the audition.
Which, from what I saw on the previous, when I did the audition, was impossible.
He told me a story that he believes he offended the guy who was running the audition, which is very possible.
But the other people that were not the guy that ran the audition, they grabbed my friend and they told him, look dude, you failed, but you failed with a very high score.
You're going to get hired anyways.
Don't even worry about it.
Because they're going to count up all the people they passed and they're going to realize they still don't have enough.
And you're going to be in the first wave of people they hire after they hire everyone who passed.
So my friend's like, OK, sounds good.
I need a job.
This will be great if I get it.
And sure enough, they call him up and they're like, hey, we need you to come in and do the World Series.
So he's like, sure, you got it.
Now, our lives between me and him take drastically different turns.
Because we both work the same shift, which is usually 11 o'clock at night to whenever in the morning, or midnight to whatever in the morning for both of us.
But, for some reason, he got selected to deal at the Rio's Poker Room.
And I got selected to deal the World Series crazy giant convention hall room of high-stakes nosebleed poker.
So my roommate, who failed his audition, mind you, and I will reiterate that a hundred times because I'm very angry about this, the guy who failed his audition Got to spend all night dealing 1-2 No Limit, 2-5 No Limit, and 1-2 Pot Limit Omaha to drunk, happy tourists who would shower him with money every single night.
Whereas I dealt every exotic, stupid, weird game you could imagine to absolute fucking pricks who wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire.
And I would walk out of there with...
Usually somewhere between $50 to $100 less than him every single night.
Every.
Single.
Night.
And the other thing was, is that the way you got kicked out of the room, the way your shift ended, for me, was incredibly arbitrary.
Because basically, when you start dealing at 11 o'clock at night, the games break down.
Because even the most degenerate gamblers They pack up and leave around four in the morning.
They see the sun rising and they're like, I gotta get out of here.
So the games break.
And pretty much the rule was, is that after five hours, if you were at a table and the table broke, they just sent you home.
And that was just it.
So you could easily work a five or six hour shift and then just get sent home because your game broke.
And by the same token, you could be getting not tipped all night, be miserable, be begging to leave.
And you just get stuck out in game after game after shitty game.
You don't get any money, but you can't leave.
So tough break.
Meanwhile, my friend would just work an eight-hour shift every night.
He got relieved when the morning shift of dealers showed up.
So he would just come in at 12, get tapped out at 7.
A couple nights, oh no, he would stay for a couple of hours overtime and just make way more money.
And it was just enraging.
It was just so ridiculous.
So that was the really awesome friend failing his audition.
Did I mention that he failed his audition?
Because he failed his audition.
And he even gets to make infinitely more money than me because he gets the better job than me.
America!
Then we finally have our first day of the World Series.
And the dealer coordinator, there's the staffing is the dealers, dealer coordinators, and floor managers.
A floor manager is a person who makes a ruling on a decision if the players are pissed off and are mad about something.
Dealer coordinators tell the dealers where to go and what to do, and the dealers deal.
That's basically the jobs.
So, the really quick little story that I found funny was, first night, the dealer coordinator's like, okay everybody, here's the rules, here's what we're gonna do, and the listing of the numbers, here's the chart, it's got the numbers for the tables.
When I call your name, you're gonna say that you're here, I'm gonna give you a table number, and you're gonna go to that table.
Stevenson, here, 63.
Martinez here.
15.
Brown.
Silence.
Brown.
More silence.
Going once.
Going twice.
Fired.
And then he went to the next name.
That always made me laugh.
So, we get our assignments, and now the first thing he tells us is that we do not do what is called a Time Pot.
What's a Time Pot?
Okay, Time Pots are a way for the players to try to get around having to waste time paying for the game.
I told you about Rake in a previous, in the Internet Poker Game, I told you about, the Internet Poker Podcast, I told you about Rake.
As a way, the house makes money.
In high stakes games, the house will usually do what's called taking time.
Which means every half hour, a dealer sits down and says, time, and the players all have to throw the dealer a set amount of money, and then the dealer throws it down the hole, a floor person comes by, verifies what you threw down the hole, and life goes on, and you deal for the half hour.
You don't take a rake at that point.
You just drop the time.
Players hate this because it slows the game down.
They'll have to grab the money and throw it in, and they have to make sure that everyone else threw in the same amount of money, and no one's trying to cheat them because poker players are horribly paranoid and conspiratorial.
So what they'll do is they'll say, time pot.
And what a time pot is, is the first pot over a certain amount of money, you take all the time out of that pot and give it to the dealer.
So if you win the time pot, you kind of lose.
We were taking $11 in time.
So you had a nine-handed table.
You're throwing a lot of money down the hole as a result of that.
You're almost throwing $100 down the hole.
Time pot so the first pot over $300 BAM that person loses a third of it to the time But it speeds up the game because you just deal hands out and as soon as a time pot hits that person gets the punishment You don't have to wait for Nine people to fiddle around and grab $11 worth of chips and I'll throw it into the middle Then you collect it grab it stack it call the floor over have a measure it BAM all that stuff But the dealer court here says we do not do time plots.
Do not do time plots.
If the players demand a time plot, you call the floor over, the floor will shut them down, and we will make them take time.
I want to let you in on a little secret.
The floors are not going to shut them down.
The floors don't give a shit.
The floors don't care about the dealers.
The floors just want the players to be happy.
Because some of these players, probably most of them, are kind of high stakes players that they want to get drunk and go into the pit or play some slots and lose money to them.
So they're going to placate them.
So they don't care.
So if you try to actually stick up for yourself and follow the letter of the law that was dictated to you by management, You are screwed.
You're not going to win that argument because you're not the guy that matters.
The player is the one who matters.
And the players know this.
The players know that management has no respect for you and that you are a temp worker working a temp job who will be laid off in a few weeks anyways.
So you can fuck all the way off.
No more did I learn this lesson than, and I'm not even joking, the third table I dealt at the World Series of Poker on my first shift.
I walk over to this table and it is Chinese poker.
Chinese poker is the dumbest game.
These guys could have been playing Candy Land and it would have been just as skillful and intelligent and intense.
Chinese poker requires no skill.
You learn the game in about five minutes, and everyone plays the same goddamn way, there's nothing to it, and you only win based on what cards you get, and that's it.
It's just entirely luck-based.
And as a dealer, it's incredibly bad to deal, because all you do is make four piles of 13 cards, hand those piles to the players, And then while the players are working on their hands, you shuffle the other deck and then pile it out into four piles of 13, and then sit there and twiddle your thumbs and just wait for the players to tell you when they're done playing, so you can push the piles out again and grab the other deck.
You're just a robot.
You're just literally a shuffling and piling robot.
You don't read cards.
You don't announce who wins or who loses.
You have no impact on the game whatsoever, except for you're just a random number generator that gives the people their cards.
So, if you want a less rewarding, less interesting, less fun way to live your life, become a Chinese poker dealer and enjoy hanging yourself from a shower curtain a couple weeks later.
I walk over to the table.
I sit down.
My ass may have hit the cushion of the seat for maybe one second when this guy in the one seat.
There's only four players in a Chinese poker game.
You only get 13 cards.
You can't have more than four piles, so you can't have more than four players.
But for some reason, one of the four players is sitting in the one seat, which is directly to the left of the dealer, right on my left shoulder.
And I barely get in the seat, and this guy looks at me, and I'm just absolutely, totally serious.
He looks right at me and says, who's this motherfucker?
That's how they treat you.
That's how these absolute fucking dirtbags treat you.
Doesn't even know me from Adam and just calls me a motherfucker.
I then grab a pile and I go to hand it to him.
Now again, keep in mind, these piles have no discernible value.
It's completely random.
It's all arbitrary and total chance.
I've never dealt Chinese poker before.
It's the dumbest game in the world.
It doesn't matter.
It sucks.
It's stupid and I hate it.
Suddenly, all four guys at the table start screaming and freaking out and yelling at me.
It is at this moment that I look up, stare at the table for a moment, and realize that in this dumbest game in the history of the world, they actually have a button on the table to dictate who gets what pile when.
Which is meaningless.
There's no positional advantage in this game.
There's no need for a button to exist.
But, they do in fact have a button, so I should have given the first pile to the third player in sequence, because that's where the button is situated.
So I realize that after they yell at me for 10 seconds, that's what I'm supposed to do.
So I grab that pile and I throw it to the right guy.
And then I give the other piles to the appropriate guys in sequence.
And as the guy in the one seat who's already swore at me before picks up his pile of cards and looks at them, he says, I knew he was a motherfucker!
And yeah, that's your life.
That is your life as a dealer at the World Series of Poker.
You are scum.
You're just scum.
And everyone treats you that way.
It's not fun.
It's the opposite of fun.
It's bad.
It's really kind of crummy.
The only guy, named player, and he's really not a named player in a lot of ways, but you know his name if you know poker, that was a cool dude was Chris Moneymaker.
He was playing a 2-5 no-limit game, which is the lowest stakes they had in that realm.
And he was just screwing around.
He was making it like 55 to 75 preflop every hand.
He had a huge stack in front of him.
His brother was playing as well.
And he had done well in a tournament that day.
So a bunch of well-wishers were wandering by every now and then.
Like, hey, good job, Chris.
Good day one.
Take it home, buddy.
You got this, buddy.
So he was just a chill dude.
And really importantly, he was a tipper.
When he won, he would throw me a buck, which is more than I can say for most of these guys.
So that was cool.
So that was my brush with positive fame, as it were.
My brush with negative fame, there were a good few of those.
The main one was Men the Master, who is a terrible cheat and just an awful dirtbag.
Men the Master and his drunk friends and some random old dude that was their buddy.
They played a lowball game and they pretty much spent the entire time at the table playing with complete donks, drunk off their asses, screaming and yelling at each other in Vietnamese, and spilling beer on the table a lot, and just yelling at me a lot, and demanding that they get new cards, new setups, because the previous cards were unlucky or bad, or they didn't like them.
The table sucked.
It was a nightmare table to deal.
You were constantly being berated and no one was playing poker seriously.
These guys were playing a really high stakes game.
It was like 300, 600 limit.
So the betting is very serious.
And if you knew anything about the way the game was played, they were doing literally total just bad poker play.
Like no one took the game seriously at all.
It was hilarious.
Normally when you're playing a game like this you only draw one or two cards at the start.
You fold if you have a hand that requires three or more cards.
I dealt one hand and every player at the table drew three cards.
Men win drew four cards.
I had to reshuffle the burn into the deck to make a new deck on the first draw.
I apologize for you being down the poker wormhole as far as I am.
Padoogie for the low half of the pot and Deuce 7 Triple Draw for the high half.
A very silly game. If you know it, I apologize for you being down the poker wormhole as far as I am.
But to give you an idea as to how crummy this game was to deal and how terrible these guys were,
we had a promotion for the dealers where at the end of the World Series they were going to crown
a Dealer of the Year.
And how was this Dealer of the Year to be adjudicated?
As all things in America are adjudicated through merit and talent.
Of course not.
Fuck you.
The way it's adjudicated is, if a floor person saw you doing a good thing, they would throw you a card.
You would fill that card out and put it in a hopper.
And at the end of the World Series, they would draw a name out of that hopper, and they would announce the name, and that person would be the dealer of the year, and they'd get all kinds of cool prizes.
So the idea was, do a good job, get recognized by floor people for doing a good job, receive lots of tickets, win.
I got one ticket the entire World Series.
And the one ticket I got for dealing was because I dealt a half hour on that table with those assholes.
And at the end of that half hour, no beer had been spilled, the floor had not been called over, there had not been any crazy arguing in Vietnamese.
It was just, I got through the half hour without a disaster occurring.
And as I got tapped on the shoulder by the other dealer and I got up and I got to walk away from the table, thwop!
A ticket hit the table and I looked over and the floor person looked at me and nodded to tell me that it was mine and I picked it up.
So that's how bad that table was.
You got a chance to become the dealer of the year if you made it through a half hour with those pricks and nothing went horribly wrong.
Another mild brush with fame, and also because someone just mentioned his name in my Twitter feed, was Sam Grizzle.
He's kind of an obscure poker figure.
His main claim to fame is that he actually is the man who punched out Phil Hellmuth, which a lot of poker players wish they had done.
I had heard that Sam was kind of a terrible guy at the table, a jerk.
But I was blessed because Sam had a foil for himself at the table in the form of a cartoonishly funny man called the Iceman.
The Iceman was, or is, I should say, a 350-pound to 400-pound black dude who had a giant set of headphones.
I don't know if Beats were around the Note 9, but he had giant headphones on.
That had like a bedazzler on the band in jewels and the word Iceman was inside the jewels.
That spot had been left blank.
So the black band had Iceman on it and the rest of it was all kind of like weirdly bedazzled, jewel encrusted.
And the Iceman talked a big game and was always telling everyone he was the best poker player that ever lived.
That he was really good, that he would crush everybody.
And so for the entire time that I dealt at the table, which again is a half hour.
Sam Grizzle was busting his chops about how bad he was, and for some reason they were talking about upset stomachs and buttermilk.
Buttermilk was a big topic of conversation.
And what was really hilarious was, during this whole time, a Latino woman basically just beat the piss out of Iceman.
They were playing a... I believe it was a 200-400 limit game.
Limit Hold'em.
And this woman would just maul the Iceman on the turn of the river with check raises, or just raising him whenever he bet.
Just everything.
She was just all over him.
In the half hour I dealt, she took like four pots off of him, and they were all easily $3,000, $4,000 a pop.
easily three four thousand dollars a pop probably more probably five six
thousand but she was just smashing him and Sam Grizzle was just yucking out
from the sidelines making fun of Iceman and Iceman was just talking big that he
was gonna turn it around This was no big deal to Iceman.
The Iceman doesn't flinch under these circumstances.
So that was my brush with Mr. Sam Grizzle and the Iceman.
I dealt to Greg Raymer for like five seconds and then he racked up and left.
So I really didn't get a good vibe on that guy.
I had a table with a bunch of old men who literally spent the entire time I was there shitting on Daniel Negroni in the most vicious way possible.
It was ridiculous.
I don't know why they hated Daniel Legrande so much, but they really did.
He must have run over one of their dogs.
It was insane.
It was insanely scathing.
They said that he was basically a member of the Deep State, that he was close to being a pedophile.
Again, this was just a bunch of old assholes at the table.
This was not me saying this.
This was just me going, wow, these guys hate Daniel Legrande.
They said that he was obviously gay, that his marriage was a bet that he had made and lost.
It was his first marriage, too.
I think Dino's got a new girlfriend or he's already married again.
But yeah, they were just, that he was a jerk off camera, that his television persona's all fake, blah, blah, blah.
It was really, really just obscene.
It was really weird.
Oh, and the only reason I did this podcast was this story right here was Vanessa Selbst, because someone brought her up in my Women Who Rule podcast, I mean, Twitter thread.
Totally melting brain.
But Vanessa Selps, I dealt to her and she was at a table with an angry old dude.
And angry old dude and Vanessa were not happy with each other.
And they let each other know that this was the way it was and they weren't going to tussle.
They got it all in pre-flop with the angry old dude and Vanessa, and it was not... I mean, she's a big-time high-stakes player, so this was not a big-time high-stakes pot.
This was somewhere around the $2,000 to $4,000, I think.
It wasn't that huge a pot, but... Anyhow, the old dude and Vanessa are all in pre.
I run the board out, and the old dude says, Pocket Queens!
And she says, you're good.
He tables the queens.
She goes to muck.
He says, dealer, I want to see those cards.
And she says, you're not allowed to see them.
He's like, I want to see them.
She's like, no, you're not seeing these cards.
And he's like, I have a right to see those cards.
I want to see them.
And she's like, call the floor.
And I'm like, floor.
And the floor comes over.
And as soon as the floor gets with an earshot, gets anywhere near the table, she immediately goes to the
floor.
She's like, the only reason why a player can see another player's hand is because
of the belief of collusion.
She had called his all in, so he had to show first.
And so he has no right to see her cards unless he suspects collusion.
And he cannot suspect collusion because they were heads up preflop.
There was no one else involved in the hand.
So there cannot be any collusion involved in the hand.
Therefore, she is entitled to muck face down without showing her cards.
And that's just the way it is.
And the floor guy just kind of had the look on his face like, wow, I just walked into a buzzsaw.
Holy shit.
And he just sort of says, yep, she's right.
She does not have to show those cards.
And she slides them over to me face down.
They go up to the muck.
They are never seen.
And the old guy doesn't get to know what crap Vanessa Selbs called him with that couldn't beat his pocket queens.
And that was that.
So that was pretty much all that kind of fun stuff that happened to me in 2009.
The other salacious bit of information I got was, much as the QAnon supporters have a friend of a friend of a friend acknowledging the rescuing of the mole children, this story came from A fellow dealer.
So again, it's hearsay.
So he could have just been lying to me.
I do not believe that he was lying to me.
I'm pretty sure he would vouch for the story if it came down to it.
But anyhow, we would have a dealer game at our place where 10 or 12 dealers would come over.
We'd all play some cards, be idiots.
Everyone would drink.
If you busted out, You'd take turns dealing, and everyone would tip you until you had enough money to play again.
And then the next guy who busted out would deal for a while, and so on and so forth.
So it was just a night of fun and partying in Vegas for dealers.
And we had this one dealer who was working in a very low-stakes, stress-free environment that I was a co-worker of his in, and he hated it.
He was just the most deeply upset and unhappy person on God's green earth.
And this dude, one day he maxed out his credit card on a football bet because he just wanted to win it and not have to work for a while.
And then he lost and was like stuck thousands of dollars.
Because that's how sports betting works.
But he, for some reason, he transferred away from ultra low stress job to the Bellagio, which is just the shittiest high stress job in the world.
Because again, you are a scum that is going to be dealing with high stakes players who don't really care about you.
And so, one day, this dealer, who is a Filipino, so he is a swarthy dude, was in the big ultra high stakes room of Bobby's room as they call it at the Bellagio and he was dealing to the usual crew and about 20 minutes into his half hour of dealing to these people
Doyle Brunson leaned over to Chip Reese, who obviously wasn't still alive at that time, and told Chip Reese, and I quote, warning, trigger warning, racism alert here, so avert your eyes or skip ahead 30 seconds if you don't want to hear this.
Doyle leans over to Chip and says, this spic isn't giving me any cards.
It was at this point that we dubbed our Filipino dealer friend a Mexican, as it were.
Because, hey, Doyle doesn't make mistakes, as it were.
And the thing that's really funny is every time I told that story to any players at the poker rooms, they would just be like, ah, Doyle's an old guy from Texas, of course he's kind of racist.
Because that's totally forgivable.
Whatever, Doyle, you wacky old racist, you.
So yeah, Slander and Doyle Brunson on the podcast.
So that was like, I mean, that was my time at the World Series.
I dealt these games and it was just really, really, really, really unfun.
It was incredibly stressful.
It was very mean spirited.
No one obeyed the rules.
They would give you rules, and then they would ignore them, and the time pot thing, I'm not even joking, three days later they came back to us and they said, you know what, just let them do time pots.
We don't even care.
Just let them do it.
Take the money out any way you can get it.
We don't care.
We're just completely spineless.
We have no desire to actually enforce rules.
There's an incredibly important rule that they refuse to enforce, which is the foreign chip rule.
And they would lie to us and be like, if you see chips that are not from the Rio in play You call the floor over and you get those chips out of play because only our chips matter and only our chips play in this house.
And you'd go to the ultra high stakes games and all the chips would be all the high denomination chips would be Bellagio chips because that's where the high stakes players were playing.
High stakes poker in 09 was the Bellagio.
And they weren't going to transfer their Bellagio chips over to Rio chips because the Rio is a dump and after playing the World Series, they're going to go right back to the Bellagio.
It's like a two-month little pit stop before you go back to the real games at the Bellagio.
Now, there was four tables in the middle of the convention center that had a little waist-high divider between them and the rest of the room, which had like 30 tables.
And those four tables were called the Shark Tank in our little community of dealers.
And the thing was, on that Shark Tank, there was a little warning that said that foreign ships are something that the Rio and Caesars has no control over.
We have no authority over those chips.
What that means is if you had the winning hand, if you knew you had a winner, if you had the absolute stone-cold nuts, and you grabbed two thick stacks of $100 bills totaling $20,000 USD, Or Rio chips of the same amount.
And you slid that into the pot and said, I bet $20,000.
And your opponent looked at the bet, saw what was going on, and then they reached down and they grabbed, from their stack, they grabbed four $5,000 Bellagio chips.
And they threw them into the pot.
And they said, I call.
Boom.
There you go.
And you tabled your absolute total winner.
You were just like, boom!
Four of a kind, idiot!
All your money's mine!
That guy could reach into the pot, grab those four Bellagio chips out of the pot, take them and put them back into their stack, and there is nothing anyone could do about it.
Because those chips are not real property.
They're not Caesars property.
They're MGM property.
We have no control over them.
Now what the guy did was obviously really scummy, and he'll never get to play poker in Vegas again, and he may not make it to the parking lot alive as it were, but totally legal thing for them to do.
So you really have to watch that.
But again, you're mostly working on an honor system here because People that are playing at that stake level want to keep playing at that stake level, and they know if they pull a move like that in Vegas, they're done for.
Their reputation is mud.
But technically, totally valid move on their part.
So that would be really scary if it ever happened.
But again, they would tell us to take those chips off the table, and no one would listen, because the players don't care.
They don't listen to the dealers, they don't listen to the floors, they don't listen to anybody.
And management's gonna kiss their ass, because they're high-stakes players, and that's just the way the world works.
Enjoy being part of the 99% against the 1%, as it were.
So, yeah.
Moral of the story is, rich people are pretty terrible, and being a dealer in the World Series sucks.
I literally, for the last, like, week or so of doing the World Series like an hour before I got into work I would just start like aggressively dry heaving I had so much stress going through me and then eventually I just I just quit because I just couldn't take it because it was just such a terrible problem it was just such a terrible
amount of work to do for it again I was getting paid I was getting paid so much
less than my friend who was working a totally stress-free room and just
raking money hand over fist so I just had to deal with the fact that I was
doing all these jerks and making no money while my friend my roommate was
just piling in cash and just having just a grand old time it was it was just such
an unbelievably terrible six weeks and then the best part about it was because
I quit two weeks before the World Series ended when I reapplied for my
unemployment because it turned out that Bush had extended the unemployment even
further Obama was like yeah that's cool we'll keep doing that that me working
the World Series and then not working it all the way through the end until getting
laid off because I worked six weeks instead of eight I got my unemployment
cut off And if I had never worked the World Series, they would have just kept giving me my unemployment checks.
So, I did everything exactly the worst possible way, where I worked most of the shifts I could work, but then just gave up on it, because there was only two weeks left, and I hated it, and I didn't want to do it anymore, and I was going to get back on unemployment anyways.
And then, boom.
Not allowed to be back on unemployment.
Go to hell.
You lose.
So yeah, it worked out great on every imaginable level and then some.
So that was my life at the World Series.
I had a few questions.
I never actually ran into Phil Ivey or engaged Phil Ivey.
I will say that pretty much everyone's impression of the guy was that he was just pretty much just a stone-cold killer of the table, and that he was the kind of guy that was gonna work every angle he could to get every advantage he could, which is why he pulled that Baccarat scam, which was hilarious.
And hey, if you can do it and get away with it, God bless you.
So yeah, he was cool.
Really didn't get a lot of questions this time, so that's going to be a wrap.
Probably talk some more about Q and all their crazy dumb stuff tomorrow night, because those are the podcasts that drive the numbers.
I am all about just being a totally attention-starved lunatic who craves nothing more than seeing numbers going up and up and up when I do things on social media, because I have actually no internal self-worth or self-respect, and my only validation comes from you people telling me I'm doing a good job.
I'm a sad, broken creature.
And on that cheerful note, have a great night.
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