Adopt a Dealer

On my last vacation, I was playing hold'em in a room I used to frequent, when a dealer I'd never seen sat down in the box. He didn't run the game very well, and the indifference he displayed as to whether or not players observed the rules stood in marked contrast to his fascination with the ballgame playing on a nearby television. He did, however, possess an animated and engaging personality, and during the course of his down, he told a couple of genuinely priceless jokes. Few people tell a joke well, but his delivery was expert, although one of them undoubtedly would have been funnier had his preoccupation with the punch line not led to a premature burn and turn that changed the outcome of one of the evening's heftiest pots.

When his half-hour was done, he was tapped out by a burly fellow with a neutral facial expression who proceeded to run the game smoothly and efficiently. Unlike his predecessor, he politely but firmly put a stop to the chip-passing and card-exposing that had become the table routine. Apart from these initial moments of restoring order, however, his performance called little attention to itself, and for all of his efficiency and considerable presence, the overall effect was such that by the time his down was over, it seemed as if he'd hardly spoken a word.

As this second dealer was pushed out, one of the players turned to his neighbor and complained, "My God, where do they get these guys? That schmuck has the personality of a wet dishrag!" When his neighbor regarded him blankly, the silence seemed to disconcert the critic, who persisted with his point. "I mean, it's a people business; how 'bout a little oomph, a little friendliness? How 'bout a little personal service?"

At this, the neighbor, who had lots of years on the critic, smiled. "How old are you, young man?" he asked.

"I'm 30," came the reply.

"I'm exactly twice that," the older man said, "and I don't mind admitting that the older I get, the more I realize how much I don't know. But there are a few things I do know, and let me tell you, son, it's been a long, long time since I confused 'amiable' with 'friendly.'

I couldn't imagine anyone making the point more simply or eloquently, but the distinction seemed lost on the younger man, who proceeded to complain to a nearby manager about the second dealer's lack of "people skills."

Amiability is a matter of temperament, but friendliness is something more. If you don't care enough about the patrons responsible for your income to bring an attentive approach to the performance of your duties, is friendliness a fair description? If you keep your head in the sand as players who habitually break the rules gain a cumulative advantage over those who respect and play by them … if you choose to pass the heat that sometimes comes with enforcement to the very people you're supposed to be shielding from that heat, can you accurately be said to be providing good service – personal or otherwise?

The second dealer may not have flashed his pearly whites in a show of goodwill, but he did something far more important: He demonstrated it. He not only cared enough about his players to give their game his full attention, but also enforced rules his colleague was perfectly content to let slide. In so doing, he protected the players and upheld the integrity of the game. He also may have cost himself a few dollars in tips, and incurred the wrath of those who don't like it when someone prevents them from getting away with things to which they've become accustomed, but, hey, the job's the job, and taking a little heat comes with the territory. Now that's an attitude I'd call friendly, no matter how low-key the personality of the person who puts it into practice.

Although there are still plenty of dealers out there willing to run the game, take the heat, and perform the parts of the job that too many of their brethren decline, they are, sadly, becoming a rarer breed. When you're fortunate enough to encounter such dealers, there are several advisable options. Tip them. Hug them. Adopt them. Buy them dinner. Sing their praises. Introduce them to your beautiful sister/handsome brother in order that they may quickly marry and multiply. Or … you can always go to management and complain about them not being chatty enough.

It's a sad irony that negligent dealers who routinely look the other way at rule violations contribute to an anything-goes environment in which conscientious dealers who try to restore order are often the ones who end up paying the price – a price exacted both financially and in terms of hostility and abuse. A long time ago, when I was a dealer myself, I asked a dealer I admired whether it bothered him that the "ostriches" (the popular slang at the time for heads-in-the-sand dealers) were perhaps being rewarded, with tips, at the expense of the more diligent. His answer was classic: "Listen," he said. "When someone tosses you a chip or two for doing your job, that's a tip. When they toss you chips for looking the other way and not doing it … well, there are plenty of words for that, but 'tip' isn't one of them."

I've never forgotten that line, nor the one that followed: "I mean, I know a man's gotta eat, but he's gotta be able to sleep, too, doesn't he?"

Now there's a fellow I'd introduce to my sister any day of the week.