It's Mesquite!

Two weekends ago, Richard and I packed all the white shirts and black pants we could find and headed to Mesquite to deal at the Oasis’s bi-annual (I think) weekend of poker tournaments.

While admiring a lovely green golf course to the right, we almost missed both exits to the little town. Fortunately just past the golf course, there was a huge sign that said: OASIS and we figured that must be it, a traditional oasis (even in Nevada) would probably not have helpful signs for thirsty travelers.

Before I get to the dealing part, let me quickly tell you about Mesquite. The town’s slogan seems to be “It’s Mesquite!”. Now, I am not sure if they feel they have to announce it given the size of the town, or maybe they didn’t have anything else to say, I’m not sure, but it’s on ads, on tv commercials and on souvenirs, everything yells “It’s Mesquite’. So if you ever plan to get so drunk that you don’t know where you are, don’t go to Mesquite, because everything tells you “IT’S MESQUITE!”
At least it cleared up one mystery for me – I know now where all the Orleans players are bussed in from! IT’S MESQUITE!!

Ok, let me cover the shortest poker dealing career in history. On Friday night we had to deal the first tournament. Now to say I was not nervous, was probably like saying Zimbabwe is not in trouble. Or that South Africa is going to win the RWC this year (KIDDING, I have hope!!!) Let me tell you, I think the last time I was that nervous, was when I realize I’m nine months pregnant and there is only one way to get the little monster out!! (Love ya, Clarese!!!) If only there was an epidural available this time.

So, add the combination of ceiling fans, sticky cards, tables that either let the cards stay right in front of you or slide all the way to under the rail, with my unbridled fear and nervousness, and you have a recipe for disaster. I was concentrating so hard not to make mistakes and to keep control of the game, that I made the mistake that got me ‘labeled’. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of the grumpy old men called the floor over, whispered something in his ear. I assumed he wasn’t asking him out on a date, and when the floor said ‘Ok, I’ll say something about it”, I definitely knew he wasn’t.

After the first down it went better, I didn’t make any major mistakes, couple of things that were easy to fix with no repercussions. THEN, after a couple of tournament downs I get more relaxed and actually started to enjoy it, then they put me down at a dead spread where an Omaha H/L live game was going to start. That was the point I was starting to pray to every god ever known to man or animal. I prayed that I was going to get pushed before the game started, but alas. All the gods out there teamed up and 5 min before I got pushed, I had to start the game. Now, if you know poker players, that’s one thing, OMAHA players - they are a different breed. (I think they should get their own planet, by the way). Now, when all is well, being a poker player, when I look at the flop, I can almost immediately tell you what the nuts are (also helps that I normally get beat by those, so I picked up on that pretty quick). Fortunately for this Omaha game, I had only time to deal two hands – and that was a good thing, because I looked at the cards, and I saw nothing. NOTHING. They didn’t make sense at all. Hearts, spades, Ace, King, - all looked the same to me. Ek het nie geweet of dit Dinsdag of Dingaansdag is nie. I guess the players smelled my fear and both times they announced their winning hands and I just made sure to push the pot to the one who made the winning noises and not the guy saying ‘Damn River!’.

So, Friday was much better, I made one big mistake (which may I add, most poker dealers make at some point or another), where I burned and turned too early and cost a player a huge pot which he had no problem pointing out to me. After work on Friday night, I was informed that players complained that I was ‘too slow’. OK, I know I was no lightning bolt on Friday, but give me a break, I play poker and I see dealers almost every day, I knew I wasn’t that slow. But – as in business, in poker the customer is always right. So, I was now labeled as the ‘slow dealer’.

I woke up Saturday morning and decide that’s it. I hate failing and I hate quitting, but I didn’t think this was fixable, especially with the tag team tournament coming up where half of the game is Omaha. Being nervous already, as well as labeled, there is no way with my limited experience, that I will ever be comfortable enough to deal Omaha, so I semi-resigned. I talked to the people in charge and told them that I was ok with not dealing at all. Unfortunately they still needed me, and I had to work on Saturday, both tournaments. I think the floor guy Saturday night missed the discussion and didn’t realize that I was supposed to suck, because even whey I TRIED to go home, I was routed back into the line-up. I stayed and dealt the tournament until only 3 tables where left (out of the original 16 or so). Now if I was THAT bad, why didn’t he send me home and kept one of the other dealers? I just realized I am a little disturbed by how this panned out. One thing is for sure, I’m done dealing.  And I’m ok with that.

Sunday I didn’t even go in for work (Omaha alert!) and on Sunday night I played in the tournament. Made it to 29 out of 135 people, got unlucky when I pushed with pocket 99’s, got called by 9-10c, and he managed to suck out a straight on the river. Oh well. That’s poker. We’ve all been there, more than once probably.

Monday morning I *tried* not to work, but still got a couple of tournament downs and one live – which was fun. At that point, I was pretty comfortable with the players, the cards, the rake and not nervous at all anymore. And I also knew by then that I wasn’t that slow. My career as a dealer can RIP. 

The fun thing about that weekend was that the same players played in every tournament (there are only SO many people in Mesquite), and we got to know most of them quite well. I have met some really lovely people and I definitely plan to go back there. As a player, not a dealer, of course.

After all, IT’S MESQUITE!