The Sahara moves to cement its reputation

Almost 18 months ago, I wrote a post titled "Where are the worst dealers in town?" The answer, I concluded, was the Sahara. Lately the Luxor has been trying hard to snatch the title away, but last night the Sahara made another strong claim to maintain its supremacy.

On my right was a guy who just wouldn't stop talking about the hand in progress. He felt some pathologic compulsion to constantly announce what cards he thought other players had. The first time he did it, for example, was when I bet at a flop containing two clubs, and he said, "You've got the flush draw, huh?" as he mucked, while there were still two people left to act on my bet. (Actually I had one of those lovely combined flush and straight draws, plus the button--but no matter.) He did it again a short time later, and I shot the dealer a dirty "Are you going to say something about that?" look. The dealer did indeed act appropriately that time and reminded Loudmouth not to make such comments.

Dealer #2 comes into the box. Loudmouth rattles off his third remark about what he thinks somebody has. I'm sitting next to the dealer, so I lean over and quietly tell him that this is the third offense, and the guy has already been given one warning. He nods, and when the hand is over halts the action, gets Loudmouth's attention (he is wearing headphones, and everything he says is a shout, because he has no idea how loud he is), and tells him that he cannot talk about the hand while there are still decisions pending. Loudmouth protests that he doesn't really know what anybody has, he's just guessing like everybody else does, and besides, "everybody says the same kind of things." Maybe in your home game, pal, but this ain't your basement. The dealer politely but firmly explains that he might give ideas to other players, and it's against the rules. Loudmouth concedes the point and promises not to do it again.

But, predictably, within a few minutes he spouts off with speculation #4. Again this dealer takes appropriate action without me needing to prompt him. (Note that he is one of the exceptions to the Sahara's worst-dealers rap.) He again stops the game after the hand, has Loudmouth take off his headphones, and quite sternly reprimands him, making his point more forcefully than before.

Now we get to dealer #3, a young woman named Jennifer. On just her first or second hand at our table, the river puts a fourth spade on the board. Four players are in the hand, not including Loudmouth. As soon as that river lands, he pipes up, "One of you has got to have the spades!" You may recall that I lost a pot at Bill's a couple of months ago under nearly identical circumstances, when somebody speaking improperly caused a player to check his hand for a flush when he was otherwise about to muck it.

I recognize that Jennifer has no idea what has gone on before, so I lean over and tell her that Loudmouth has already received three formal warnings about discussing the hand in progress. I naturally assume that this information will spur her to action. The logical thing for her to do is call the floor, but the minimal thing to do is issue yet another warning. The hand ends, though, and she says nothing. I wait for the next hand to get played out, thinking perhaps she is gathering her thoughts about which course of action to take or what exactly to say, and yet she does nothing. I don't know if she's deaf, lazy, intimidated, indifferent to enforcing rules, or just an imbecile, but one way or another, it appears that she's not inclined to do her job. So I ask her to call the floor, which she does.

I explain the situation. Floor guy is very cool, handles things just right. He tells Loudmouth no talking about the hand in progress. Loudmouth first protests that he hasn't told his side of the story. (What side is that, sir? Would you like dealer #2 to step over from the next table and verify that he gave you two warnings in one down for exactly the same thing?) Floor guy tells him, "I wasn't here, so I don't know what happened. If I don't get called over again, I'll assume you were innocent. But if I get called to handle it again, I'll know you were guilty and we'll be asking you to leave."

Loudmouth apparently decides that he can't play under such intolerable conditions, and picks up his chips and leaves. Too bad, really, because he was an atrocious player from whom it would have been easy to win more money. But just as you shouldn't compromise on rules enforcement because somebody is a famous player (e.g., Hellmuth), one shouldn't compromise on them just because somebody is a horrible, fishy player (after he has been given fair notice and warning of the rules, of course).

Protecting the integrity of the game is arguably the dealer's primary function. After all, players can, if necessary, deal the cards, get the pot right, and award the pot among themselves, as is done in home games the world over, and as used to be done in California card rooms until fairly recently. Yes, a dedicated dealer tends to be faster and more accurate at those jobs, but the most important role is acting as a neutral referee, keeping everything legal and fair to all players. When a demonstrably incompetent and/or uncaring dealer like Jennifer flagrantly refuses to perform that most critical function, she is rendered essentially worthless. For only the third time in my Vegas years, I gave her the only penalty I can: no tips for the rest of the evening. (The first time was at the Hard Rock; the second time was recently at the Flamingo.)

Worthless dealers--the Sahara is full of 'em.


Ironically, as I was leaving an hour or so later, I saw the person who had inspired the original "worst dealers" post--Barry, a former Hilton poker dealer. (Hmmm. That sounds wrong. He prompted that post not by being one of the worst dealers--far from it--but by asking me my thoughts on where one encounters the worst dealers.) He was playing the $2-4 game at a table behind me. Weird coincidence, huh?

On an unrelated subject, Barry related that he has been reading this blog, including my deuce-four stories, and had one of his own to tell. He busted out of a tournament when he played 2-4 and saw a flop of 2-2-7, only to lose to a player with pocket 7s. Ouch! Well, as I pointed out recently, on extremely rare occasions, somebody with a far, far weaker starting hand will catch an astronomically unlikely draw-out on the 2-4, and there's just nothing you can do about it. Such freak occurrences should not dissuade smart players from keeping faith in the only hand that is intrinsically more powerful than pocket aces.