One of the troubles with getting old is that you lose your patience. My
whole life, I've heard that as we get old, we become more patient, more
understanding. It didn't happen to me! If I ever had any patience, I lost
it somewhere along the way.
I had better back up and put in this disclaimer: I am not talking about my
patience or lack of patience when it comes to playing poker. I can sit for
a long time while enduring endless runs of bad cards with only very
minor bouts of impatience. So, having said that, let me explain how I
have become so impatient. Or, better yet, let me just cite some examples
of instances in which I can get frustrated and lose patience, and get to
the point where I go a little crazy inside.
I cannot tell you how many times I have been at a starting tournament
table when someone who started at the same time I did asks this dumb
question: "How many chips did we start with?" Three hands into the
tournament, this person, who hasn't played a hand and hasn't put in a
blind, wants to know what we started with. Duh! "Take a guess," I want
to respond, or better yet, "Count your darn chips." These people, I
guess, always think they started with a lesser amount of chips than
everybody else.
Almost as bad is the guy who comes in late. Usually he will start out by
asking, "How many hands did I miss?" Someone will tell him he missed
three hands. OK so far, but then here it comes. As he is counting his
chips, he asks, "How much did we start with?" Again, this is when I lose
my patience. I know the "gentlemanly" thing to do would be to just tell
him we started with $1,000 in chips. Even better, so that he may not ask
that question in the future, maybe I should just assist him and work
through the problem. As I said, I see him counting his chips. So, I should
say something like, "Let's see, you have $975 in chips. You missed three
hands. The blinds are $10-$15. You have the button. Presto! We started
with $1,000."
Unfortunately, I have to let you in on my little secret. As impatient and
frustrated as I get, I don't say anything. I pretend that I didn't hear the
question. Besides, one of the other players at the table will always give
him the information.
Another thing that tries my patience occurs when I'm playing in a side
game. A player gets up to take a break, stays away the maximum
amount of time allowed before he is to be picked up, returns to the table,
picks up his chips, and cashes in. Do you think it took him all that time to
decide that he didn't want to play anymore? It might make sense if the
table composition changed, but usually the same eight or nine guys who
were playing when he left are still there.
There are times when a player stays away a long time and it is more
palatable. One case is when a player has virtually run out of money. He
may have only a couple of chips left, and we all know he has gone on a
"treasure hunt." When he comes back empty-handed and picks up his
chips, it doesn't bother me. Many times, he is the kind of player the
whole table is very glad to give all the time he needs to try to find a
benefactor.
Another thing I will mention is how impatient I get with tournament
players who decide they have to take a "comfort break" or cigarette
break while play is still going on. They are usually near the button, and
as soon as they see that they are not going to play the hand, they are
off and running. Forget about protecting the hands of the poor slobs in
the blinds.
I naturally become frustrated and impatient with these inconsiderate
players, but then it is magnified even more because usually no one says
anything to them. I have on occasion succumbed to my frustration and
asked the dealer to "warn" the player that what he has just done is
wrong and could influence play. That usually doesn't help relieve my
frustration, and I become even more impatient. I become impatient with
the dealer, because many dealers, plain and simple, just don't get it.
They usually give you that faraway look, as if to say, "Who, me? Don't
get me involved."
Finally, I lose my patience with dealers who want to watch a ball game
that is on television while they are dealing. As bad as that is, it is even
worse when they initiate or get involved in conversation with the players
about the ball game — for example, talking about whether or not a wide
receiver stepped out of bounds. And, conversely, I get impatient with
players who initiate conversations with the dealer. Dealers should have
a sign over their heads like the ones on public buses. You know, the one
that reads: "Do not talk to the driver while he is driving."
I guess I'll wrap this column up by saying, I hope you haven't become
too impatient with my ranting, because regardless of what I have said,
"Impatience is not a virtue."
For what it's worth …
whole life, I've heard that as we get old, we become more patient, more
understanding. It didn't happen to me! If I ever had any patience, I lost
it somewhere along the way.
I had better back up and put in this disclaimer: I am not talking about my
patience or lack of patience when it comes to playing poker. I can sit for
a long time while enduring endless runs of bad cards with only very
minor bouts of impatience. So, having said that, let me explain how I
have become so impatient. Or, better yet, let me just cite some examples
of instances in which I can get frustrated and lose patience, and get to
the point where I go a little crazy inside.
I cannot tell you how many times I have been at a starting tournament
table when someone who started at the same time I did asks this dumb
question: "How many chips did we start with?" Three hands into the
tournament, this person, who hasn't played a hand and hasn't put in a
blind, wants to know what we started with. Duh! "Take a guess," I want
to respond, or better yet, "Count your darn chips." These people, I
guess, always think they started with a lesser amount of chips than
everybody else.
Almost as bad is the guy who comes in late. Usually he will start out by
asking, "How many hands did I miss?" Someone will tell him he missed
three hands. OK so far, but then here it comes. As he is counting his
chips, he asks, "How much did we start with?" Again, this is when I lose
my patience. I know the "gentlemanly" thing to do would be to just tell
him we started with $1,000 in chips. Even better, so that he may not ask
that question in the future, maybe I should just assist him and work
through the problem. As I said, I see him counting his chips. So, I should
say something like, "Let's see, you have $975 in chips. You missed three
hands. The blinds are $10-$15. You have the button. Presto! We started
with $1,000."
Unfortunately, I have to let you in on my little secret. As impatient and
frustrated as I get, I don't say anything. I pretend that I didn't hear the
question. Besides, one of the other players at the table will always give
him the information.
Another thing that tries my patience occurs when I'm playing in a side
game. A player gets up to take a break, stays away the maximum
amount of time allowed before he is to be picked up, returns to the table,
picks up his chips, and cashes in. Do you think it took him all that time to
decide that he didn't want to play anymore? It might make sense if the
table composition changed, but usually the same eight or nine guys who
were playing when he left are still there.
There are times when a player stays away a long time and it is more
palatable. One case is when a player has virtually run out of money. He
may have only a couple of chips left, and we all know he has gone on a
"treasure hunt." When he comes back empty-handed and picks up his
chips, it doesn't bother me. Many times, he is the kind of player the
whole table is very glad to give all the time he needs to try to find a
benefactor.
Another thing I will mention is how impatient I get with tournament
players who decide they have to take a "comfort break" or cigarette
break while play is still going on. They are usually near the button, and
as soon as they see that they are not going to play the hand, they are
off and running. Forget about protecting the hands of the poor slobs in
the blinds.
I naturally become frustrated and impatient with these inconsiderate
players, but then it is magnified even more because usually no one says
anything to them. I have on occasion succumbed to my frustration and
asked the dealer to "warn" the player that what he has just done is
wrong and could influence play. That usually doesn't help relieve my
frustration, and I become even more impatient. I become impatient with
the dealer, because many dealers, plain and simple, just don't get it.
They usually give you that faraway look, as if to say, "Who, me? Don't
get me involved."
Finally, I lose my patience with dealers who want to watch a ball game
that is on television while they are dealing. As bad as that is, it is even
worse when they initiate or get involved in conversation with the players
about the ball game — for example, talking about whether or not a wide
receiver stepped out of bounds. And, conversely, I get impatient with
players who initiate conversations with the dealer. Dealers should have
a sign over their heads like the ones on public buses. You know, the one
that reads: "Do not talk to the driver while he is driving."
I guess I'll wrap this column up by saying, I hope you haven't become
too impatient with my ranting, because regardless of what I have said,
"Impatience is not a virtue."
For what it's worth …
Impatience is Not a Virtue
By Vince Burgio
By Vince Burgio
