The very observant poker player and "Dealer"

On Saturday I'm dealing to the crowd on table 3. There are a few new faces sprinkled among the jaded regulars. One of those new faces was a lady on vacation from Florida. She had an infectious laugh and was enjoying herself is spite of the fact that she was losing. There are those who could take a lesson from this lady. At one point she (sic) uddered, after missing yet another flop, that she couldn't hit a cows ass with a snow shovel. There wasn't a trace of malice in the statement. That's a new one for me. I didn't know that they had cows or snow in Florida.

[Allow me to digress for a moment. It was one of those days. I start on table one--a $2-4 limit game. 80% strangers. 80% didn't know shite from shinola and half of them didn't grasp the fact that it was a LIMIT game and kept wondering, aloud, why they couldn't bet $8 if they wanted to. Acting in order was totally lost on this group. I was so patient that my face hurt. I gently explained why it was important that certain things be done in certain ways and in a certain order. The typical reward for taking people by the hand and honestly trying to make their poker playing experience enjoyable is that you get stiffed. It's not worth getting bent out of shape about it, but it is worth mentioning. And to take this another day into the past, on Friday I dealt quads to a guy in his early 20s. He was jubilant that he won a nice pot AND a nice bonus jackpot. He crowed that the next round was on him. Everyone at the table was instructed to order a drink and he would take care of the tip. This established that, in fact, he was familiar with the whole concept of a tip. It didn't, however, mean that I was getting a dime. I didn't.]

Back to the game in which the happy lady from Florida was playing. As I pushed a small pot to one of the regulars, the recipient informed me that I had better start putting quarters (25 cent quarters) in the pot. If I need them to facilitate the rake, I do put them in the pot. If not, I don't. I matter of factly told him that I would be happy to chop up a blue chip any time he wanted. All he had to do was throw me a buck and ask me to chop it. I am familiar with that concept. Basically, he just didn't want to give me a $1 and he didn't want to have to be bothered with asking me to chop it up. (more likely he didn't want to draw attention to himself my asking for change. Some players are observant and judgemental!) Oh well. A few hands later I push him a pot that contained 4 quarters. I'll give you one, and only one, guess as to what he did. He gave me ALL 4 OF THE QUARTERS. Well screw-me-running if I can figure people. I can't and I wish I could stop trying. Back to the happy lady. She, being in the 1s, had my ear. She related, not in whispered tones, but loudly, that yesterday she saw a player rake in a large pot and the player gave the dealer 25 cents. The lady went on and on about how cheap some people were. She reasoned that had she been the dealer that she would have told him to keep it. In reality, had she been in the dealer's shoes she would have rapped it lighly on the box, dropped it, and thanked the player. It's what we do.... There are days that I would gladly bypass any and all tokes if the players would simply play the game and at least act like they were having some semblance of a good time. Misery does not love company.
*****
Lately I have been obsessed with reading blogs. Not poker blogs, but service industry blogs. I've spent hour upon hour reading the tales of a WalMart customer service manager. Then I moved on to www.waiterrant.net . It's nothing new, but I am reminded of how some people place other people into imagined classes. Some simply have the need to feel superior. In their world I'm sure that they have convinced themselves of their rightful place in the universe. As an example, consider this. I wear a name tag. I've dealt to some of the same people 4-5 days a week for over 2 years. Some of those regulars still cannot bring themselves to use my name. It's "Dealer" this, and "Dealer" that. The same thing with the cocktail waitresses. They have names too, but these people always scream "Cocktails!
If they called us by name, then they would be forced to think of us as somewhat human-like. Using the generic "Dealer" keeps us in the same class as a chair or a sofa.
It's their little power trip. If that's what gets them through their day, so be it.
I know the real score.