One Time, Dealer: Congratulations, You Lost!

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be a dealer on the circuit grind? Have a question about behavior, etiquette, or anything else related to running a poker game? Do you want to know what dealers really think about while they’re pitching cards? What it takes to become a dealer? How you should treat dealers? Are dealers people, too?

Send your questions for The Dealer Chick (TDC) to [email protected], and read on for more advice, adventures, and real talk about life on the road for a traveling poker dealer.

The Massey Tweet

Hey Dealer Chick,

The tweet by Aaron Massey about dealers congratulating losing players has sparked debate on social media about proper dealer protocol when a player busts out of a tournament. What say you?

Signed,

Socially Influenced

Dear Troll,

Ah, yes, the Massey tweet has inspired debate. First, let’s share his tweet.

Hey @WSOP please train your staff not to say “Congratulations” when someone busts. If they cash for a loss, cash for < 2 buyins, or get their heart broken in 3rd for $250k etc it will always be annoying as fuck #Ron2020

— Aaron Massey (@nevermissmassey) February 20, 2019

I’m not privy to what tournament he was playing or how deep he ran. To be fair, I did reach out to Mr. Massey, but we’re not friends on Facebook. My message went to that place where messages from people you don’t know go to die. He did not read my message in time to offer a reply before my deadline, but if he ever does reply, I’ll be sure to update.

From social media threads I saw following his tweet, the debate seems to be this: many folks feel like his comment was that of an entitled player venting because he lost, while others feel like he has made a valid point.

My friend, and fellow circuit dealer, Katie Pool, posted, “We put up with a lot of crap as poker dealers. From people throwing cards at us to personal insults to inappropriate sexual advances…the list goes on… and on… and still we are expected to deliver a certain level of customer service. We are expected to smile and keep our mouths shut.”

Katie admits to having dealt to Aaron in the past and says he was pleasant at the table, followed the rules and showed no signs of being the kind of player that tests a dealer’s patience. But she draws the line at being called-out for being polite.

“If we as dealers have to and can put up with all the shit from players and we still find it [in] our heart to say something positive to you, how about you just suck it up and say, thank you? How hard is that?”

In response to her post, Katie received a lot of support for saying it straight.

Although I think Katie’s comparison between what dealers are forced to put up with verses what Aaron found offensive was an apples to oranges argument, I completely understand why his tweet hit her right in the feels. Since day one of working this industry, it’s been made abundantly clear that dealers are expected to take abuse because they work for tips.

Just last week, I had a player say to me (for absolutely no reason as I had just pushed into the table), “Wouldn’t it be a shame if you had to work for a living?”

And folks, you can tell me to suck it up because that’s what I signed up for when I made the service industry my profession of choice. But like Katie commented in her post, one could suggest the same to players considering they choose to sit down and risk their money for the chance to win big. So they shouldn’t take it out on dealers when they lose. I respect Mr. Massey’s choice to “speak” directly to the WSOP and not call-out a specific dealer. I don’t know what was said in the moment after the dealer’s unintentional faux pas, but I’ve no reason to assume the worst. I don’t even hate his request.

Dealers have no idea how many bullets you’ve fired, how much make-up you owe your backer, or if you haven’t gotten laid in a month. Players don’t know much more about me, but I’m the one who’s being paid to be the professional.

Last year, as I sat in the breakroom between downs, I learned my favorite aunt had passed away. Ten minutes later, I was sitting at a cash down, smiling, while players who had been cutting up and having fun included me in the teasing banter. My mind was on my aunt. I didn’t feel up to the task, but I’m a professional so I played along. It’s not their concern what bad things are affecting my outlook on life, nor should it be. I’m trained to not let things affect me. And by trained, I mean told. Head down and deal.

No one ever trained me on how to handle difficult people. But the idea of good customer service? That is drilled into us from day one. Every casino out there has some ridiculous acronym plastered along the back halls to remind us not to be jerks (S.M.I.L.E.: Say thank you, Make eye contact, there’s no I in team, Laugh, Engage or some variation thereof). So yes, I imagine that dealer was just trying to be nice. But should that dealer have known better?

One day, I walked up to a cash player with stacks of chips and said, “Wow, you’re having a great session!” He sighed and replied, “I’m down $10,000.” Ouch. I felt like a jerk. I was trying to “ENGAGE,” but instead, I rubbed salt in a tender wound. It was a lesson I thankfully learned early in my career.

If you’ve played or dealt for any length of time, you know the abundance of emotions that accompany life on the felt. The ups and downs of tilt, self-inflicted or not, and the crushing disappointment at being handed a third- or second-place payout card. There’s a reason we’re admonished if we holler, “Player down!” when someone busts. It’s rude. Because when it comes to tournament poker, if you’re not first, you’re last, Ricky Bobby.

The irony is that both Katie and Aaron want the same thing: empathy. Put yourself in my place. Don’t mistreat me because I’m paid to be here. Understand that to a competitor, winning is everything and losing sucks in the moment. Congratulate him on his deep run the next day when he’ll be able to appreciate your kindness and his accomplishment. But when a well-intentioned dealer offers kindness that feels like needles, roll with it. Everybody’s allowed at least one miss-click.