Good Cop, Bad Cop

One night about 10 years ago, unable to book a room in any of the casinos at which I'd been playing, I stumbled into a fleabag motel that offered the last remaining vacancies in town. Committed to a morning appointment, and desperate for a few hours of sleep, I had no choice but to take a room that likely depressed even the fleas. Unfortunately, in keeping with the Murphy's Law theme that had seen everything else go wrong that day, no sooner had my head hit the lumpy pillow that all hope of sleep was instantly dashed, for as luck would have it, the adjacent room was occupied by a psychopathic maniac, and a very loud one, at that.



Why me, I thought, as I listened to him curse at the top of his lungs, unleashing a torrent of threats (some involving gunplay) at the unlucky woman sharing his room, whose sobbing attempts to calm him down served only to fuel his rage. When I called the front desk and apprised the clerk of the situation, making sure to warn him that the guy might be armed, I was promised that the situation would quickly be handled.



A moment later the phone rang in the next room, and to my horror, what I next heard went something like this: "Yeah, what is it?! Making too much noise? Who the hell says? Oh, there's been a complaint, has there? Who the hell complained? Room 311, huh? Well, we'll just f——- see about that!" Whoops. The sound of the phone slamming into its cradle was then quickly followed by the sounds of the door crashing behind him, his heavy-handed steps across the hall, and the heavier still pounding of his fists upon my door, punctuated by his bellowing demands that I open up, so that he might readily deliver the beating/shooting I so richly deserved.



Eventually, the police arrived and my neighbor was transferred to the local gray bar hotel (an almost certain upgrade; where's the justice?), but by this time it was too late for all but a handful of my hoped-for 40 winks. At checkout a few hours later, I let the manager know that I would not be paying for the room, seeing as how I didn't particularly appreciate his desk clerk offering me up as the fall guy to an armed lunatic.



What brought the episode to mind, after not having thought of it in years, was something that happened recently at the poker table. The incident itself was innocuous, but the way it was (mis)handled is instructive.



A player whose preoccupation with his meal and conversation had already slowed the game considerably was now in the small blind. After being prompted to post his two chips, he immediately turned his attention back to his dinner and the running conversation he'd been having with a buddy on the rail. Just as the action came around to him, he made a dismissive wave of his hand (a gesture to the railbird, he would subsequently argue) that prompted the dealer to scoop up his cards. A moment later, as the dealer prepared to put out the flop, he suddenly noticed his lack of a hand and demanded to know why he hadn't been dealt in. When informed that he had been, and had folded, he insisted that he'd done no such thing, and that it should be a misdeal. Several players then protested that there had already been action, which should not be invalidated by the small blind's failure to protect his hand. At this point, a floorman was summoned.



After listening to the dealer's summation, the floorman squirmed a bit in his shoes, a hesitation that produced raised eyebrows all around, given that the decision he was being asked to render was such an open layup. Whatever the cause of his discomfort (post-incident consensus was that he was unhappy rendering an unfavorable verdict against such a known good tipper), he eventually ruled that yes, indeed, it is each player's responsibility to protect his hand, and in light of significant action, it was not a misdeal. At that point, Mr. Small Blind reached into the pot, grabbed two chips, and angrily stated: "Well, I'm not paying it!"



If the floorman's initial decision was an open layup, this was a slam dunk. But instead of making a decision, he decided to take a poll. Rather than address the player who was openly refusing to comply with his ruling, he plaintively turned to the other players and asked if they had any "objections" to the small blind being allowed to skate on his small blind. This bit of buck-passing proved too much for the player in seat No. 3, who said to the floorman, "You know what? I do object – to your question. I object to your putting the rules up to a vote, and I object to your shifting the onus of enforcing them onto the people who are paying you to do so."



Ironically, his initial words "I do object" were such music to the floorman's ears that the words that followed seemed not to register at all. Indeed, his relief at having the burden of decision lifted – in amusing lock step with seat No. 3's critique – was palpably evident in what then followed. After telling the small blind that he would have to put the chips back in the pot, he then proceeded to stir the pot by adding, in a sympathetic tone presumably intended to enlist cooperation: "Personally, I'd be happy to let you take them back, but seat three objects."



And at that, he beat a hasty retreat. Of course, he would have to return a minute later to break up the nasty argument that ensued as a result of the small blind taking seat No. 3's objection personally – an argument that should have taken no one by surprise, least of all, the floorman, considering that he'd effectively helped to incite it with the thoughtful "personalization" of his decision.



Unfortunately, one sees this kind of thing more and more, both from dealers (evading the task of enforcement until prompted to do so, then intimating that "if it were up to them," they'd be happy to look the other way) and the staff on the floor. It's not a healthy trend. The temptation to play the role of "good cop" may be a natural one for tipped employees, but it should be remembered that there are limits to how far such impulses may legitimately be stretched. Casting a customer in the part of "bad cop" in order to land the role of the "good" one is clearly exceeding those limits.