Wednesday, January 12, 2011

People Skills

Snoozy,  Droopy, or Sleepy-Eyed Joe, whatever  I’ve chosen to call this older guy at the pub tourney, well, he through me a curve tonight.

First off, let me tell you that I made the final table and had the river not nailed me twice in all-in situs, I’d be waggin’ the ol’ peeny for sure, for I’d have surely taken the thing down two weeks in a row.

Second, I have to vent a bit on the young guns. Not all of them, mind you, for here are a few outstanding lads among the Tuesday night crowd, young men who you just know will or do make good fathers, are hard-working, thoughtful and considerate guys who can’t play poker for shit. No, I’m speaking of the degenerates.

— Working?

— A bit for the ol’ man, but he ain’t got much goin’ right now. You?

— Nah.

One has to listen closely to decipher this much as their words seem preternaturally slurred, which leads me to only one conclusion: a level of THC in their bloodstreams that has had a permanent effect on their affect. It gives me pause as I reflect on my younger days and fear a latent embarrassment wondering if I approached such sloth of tongue back then.

Their play reflects a certain understanding of the game, most likely garnered from micros online, covered with nonchalance aped from television; or perhaps it’s the dope. A little misdirectional banter opens them up. Fun. Gone.

OK, Chris…I mean Joe. At the table, Joe speaks in clichés: Rock and a hard, guess I got to shit or git; no way ‘round that, and is an unabashed calling station should he have any kind of hand at all. I can’t say he’s quiet, but the content is lacking. Our story, however, takes place away from the poker table.

Prior to the tourney, the smokers gather outside, Joe among them. I stopped to speak to Chatty Kathy, also a smoker, not because I wanted to engage but was engaged. Others arrived and talk became a young woman’s search for an internship as a medical assitant. I suggested the VA clinic in Salem. Joe keyed in.

— Do you know Drew X?

— No. He works at the clinic?

— At the counseling center.

Ah, I thought. Explains a lot. Of an age just beyond mine, perhaps troubled by that war In which I helped pick up the pieces and later salved their wounds with booze. We spoke of vets our age, and it turns out that Joe is an advocate with a foot in the door to the state legislature. He has a strategy to effect a change all the while letting those with the votes think it is their agenda. He speaks at the table in a manner that considers the age of others much younger, those who have no idea, no similar experience to that which Joe must surely carry within.


3 comments:

JordiTorre said...

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Memphis MOJO said...

Sorry about the suckouts. Did you money?

bastinptc said...

MM - No actual money involved. First place gets a $15 certificate for booze and food. 2nd gets a meal for 2. Everyone else, including 5th place, gets squat.