From 2001 - 2004 I worked the World Series of Poker at Binion's.  Every night I worked was something different, something memorable.  I literally worked just about every non-tournament position in the poker room at some point: comp clerk supervisor, cashier, chip runner, brush, floor and the last two years I worked tournament registration at the request of the tournament manager.  I have many stories that I can never in a million years forget.  OH and I were discussing some of the things that took place during those years.

I knew a lot of names, but no faces.  OH was prominent in the home game scene in Dallas in the late 80s and early 90s.  He was a world class gin player at the age of 18.  Two of his best friends were champion bowlers and another was a poker player of legend.  So here I was working with all the people I knew by name and reputation only.  I was still cute and rather slim then with a decent rack so mistakes were not met with much harsh treatment and if they were someone would always tell them who I was the girlfriend of and all was forgiven for the most part.

My first year was spent as a comp clerk supervisor.  One of the things I did was page for phone calls mainly because people liked my fake phone voice.  So one night I paged this douchebag by his actual name since that was who the caller asked for.  Heaven forbid I not be all knowing and page him by his nickname.  So Captain Douchebag comes flying up to the cage and proceeds to go off on me.  A certain portion of the male population thinks that the only way to deal with a woman is to attempt to intimidate them.  Well, he met his match.  I don't intimidate easily.  My problem is not losing my temper and punching someone.

So here he is, screaming at me, the action at the tables closest to the cage has all but stopped so they can see what is going on.  I let him go on and on.  What the fuck do I care?  As far as I am concerned he is just another prick poker player.  Because, contrary to what the media wants you to believe there are more cocksuckers in poker than not.  Nevermind the fact that he also works in the poker room as a dealer, but during the Series everyone thinks they are someone. 

Through the entire episode I had shown zero emotion.  This bastard isn't worth it.  I looked at him and said something to the effect of, "Well, have you ever considered wearing a name tag so people know what you want to be called?"  Captain Douchebag came unfuckingglued and spouted the traditional response of a nobody, "Do you know who I am?!"  By this point the floor, who is a friend, is standing there obviously lost as to what to do.  I mean, after all I was just a temp employee and a lot of people wanted to work the Series.  I merely said, "You look like a cocksucker to me.  Now get the fuck out of my face before I come out from behind the counter."  Both of them just looked at me with expressions that can only be explained as sheer amazement.  Never once did I raise my voice.  He never spoke to me again and I was heartbroken.

Had I been someone else I may have lost my job.  What Captain Douchebag didn't know was that his manager had asked me to work the Series.  She knew I wasn't going to take any shit from the players and I wasn't going to let them con me.  I can play cute and stupid as well as the next chick to get tokes.  I know how to deal with people and I know how to put them in their place when needed.

I think that since the Series is about to hit town I shall start posting about events that took place then.  Some involve famous individuals, some don't, but they are all amusing.  At least to me and well, that's all that matters now isn't it?