Stupid, Childish Acts

BJ Table

Lightwater Casino Blackjack Table

A perfect example of stupid, Childish acts.

I was dealing blackjack when a guy came to my table.

He sat down and bought in for $100. He lost that money quickly and bought in for another $200. He was down to his last $100 and infuriated. I dealt a hand and gave him two kings for twenty, with me showing a queen. The first player had fifteen and hit. He busted. The next player had eighteen and stayed. The irate man, with twenty, put $10 next to his $10 bet. I thought he was splitting his twenty. I took one of his kings and moved it over to set up his cards.

He yelled, “Stop. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m moving your cards for the split.”

“I’m not splitting, idiot! I’m doubling down!”

The other players shook their heads as I called my supervisor.

He walked over and I explained the situation.

He turned to the man. “You’re really going to double down?”

“What do you think,” the man asked with contempt.

“You do know that we have to give you a card, right?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I know that! I’m losing my money and I want to lose it quicker so I can get the he’ll out of here.” He pointed at me. “He’s killing me!”

I wanted to say I haven’t touched you yet, but the night’s still young. I thought better of it and bit my tongue. I wasn’t worried about my tongue, I keep extras in my locker.

My supervisor sighed and turned to me. “Go ahead and give him a card.”

I prayed for it not to be an ace. I held my breath as I extracted the next card out of the shoe. It was a queen and a wave of relief flowed through me. His face turned red as I was internally celebrating and taking his money.

I turned my hole card up and had a five for fifteen. I drew the next card, a six fortwenty one and beating everyone else at the table. Those players colored up, shot dirty, hateful looks at the winer and walked away. It didn’t take long to take the rest of the guy’s money and he stomped away mumbling something unintelligible.

My supervisor leaned in closer to me and whispered,  “what an asshole.”

I nodded. “That, and another adult adolescent.”

We laughed.

I don’t root against my players, but if you cop an attitude like that, I’ll happily root for you to bust internally. If that guy had caught an ace for 21, I would have been livid.

Do you believe this story? It may end up in one of my novels. Please let me know your guess.

 

 

 

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