Such A Deal

For those of you who have never been to Las Vegas, I’ve got two little words for you...

DON’T DO IT!

Oh, three little words.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE LAS VEGAS.

For about eight hours at a time.

Any more than that and you are guaranteed to have a nervous breakdown.

Going to college in Los Angeles, we used to make many a spur-of-the-moment trip to Sin City.

We would do the four-hour drive, in closer to three, always stopping in Barstow for a burger.

We’d spend all night gambling.  

Grab a half-pound kosher dog at Slots O’Fun for 99 cents.

Nutrition is important.

And drive home with nothing in our pockets.

Almost every time.

It was the one in ten where you actually won something that motivated you to come back.

Kinda like that great eight-iron shot on 13 during your round of 107.

We were clearly ignoring the odds and the fact that the hotels were getting bigger each time we went back.

I love gambling.

I love the slots.  I love the tables.  I love the sports book.

But the good news for me is I hate losing my money just a wee-bit more than I love betting it.

So as many times as I’ve been to Vegas, I’m probably right about even.

Ok, probably not even, but not too bad off.

I’ve gone with friends, with my wife, even with my kids, but each time is exactly the same.

The first two hours are AWESOME!

The final two hours are AWFUL!

The rest is just a blur.

There was that one time in college when my fraternity brother and I made the late night drive on a whim.

He was going to show me how to play craps.

So I left with a hundy in my pocket, ready to win big time.

And when we got there, that’s what we did.

At one point, we were up BIG.

Ok, big for our college lifestyle.

I was hitting hard eights and field bets, pass lines and prop bets.

I had no idea what half of it meant, but we were rolling in it BAY-BEE.

I had so many chips on the table, you would’ve thought we were filming a Ruffles commercial.

What I didn’t realize is that with just one roll of those pretty little dice... 

..SEVEN-OUT.

Poof, it was gone.

ALL GONE.

I didn’t even know we had tickets to a Vegas Magic Show, but that game made my money disappear like it was Doug Henning.

$100 to the negative later, I was ready to jump off the top of the Mirage Hotel.

Fortunately for me, I am so old, the Mirage hadn’t been built yet.

But the ride home was THE most miserable four, make it five, hours of my life.

I’ve been back quite a few times since and now I stick to the blackjack tables.

Simple game.  Follow the book.  You’ll win in every time.

Ok, almost every time.

And not only is it fun, but its great for kids too.

You get to gamble, while they get to work on their math.

I’m all about the learning.

Last night instead of Apples to Apples or Candy Land or Monopoly, I taught the three kids all about the game of 21.

So I got out the pinto beans, divvied them up and started dealing.

Like any good dealer, I explained the game as we went.

My oldest daughter and I had played before, but I really had a great chance to take advantage of the two younger kids.

On the first hand, my two innocent little girls each bet one bean, while my wild and crazy boy bet three.

Fortunately for them, I busted, giving them a winning hand and a false sense of security.

Or as we call it in the gambling world, the daily double.

We went back and forth for awhile, but with just two hands left before bedtime, each of them was ahead for the night.

My 11-year old son convinced his six-year old sister that she should bet her entire pile of beans on the upcoming hand.

She easily had more than the other two kids put together, so she must’ve thought, it’s good to be the queen.

What could possibly go wrong.

And he must’ve thought, if she loses this hand, I WIN!

The two older kids stopped in the 17-18 range, leading up to their younger sister.

I think I had an eight or nine showing.

She flipped her cards, which were a 9 and a 3.

She successfully calculated that her hand was a 12.

By this point, she had mastered the motion of asking for a hit.

What she hadn’t mastered was the e-motion of losing all your beans.

When I flipped her a face card, she flipped on the water works.

Immediately.

The good news is it took her a milli-second to figure out that 12+10=22.

The bad news is it took her a milli-second to figure out that she had busted and lost all of her riches.

Poof.  Just like that.

As Kenny said, you gotta know when to walk away AND know when to run.

What made it worse was the cackling of her older brother coming from the other side of the table.

This game had ended like pretty much every other vegas game I had ever participated in.

A face full of tears and an empty pocket.

Well at least my daughter learned early.

The house ALWAYS wins.

No Deal

Poker has never been my game of choice.

I am much more of a Blackjack man.

I don’t gamble much and certainly less than ever without a weekly paycheck coming in.

But I definitely enjoy a long night at the $5 table with friends, winning a few hands and drinking free watered down cocktails.

I know all the rules of Blackjack -- when to hit, when to stay -- but for some reason I usually play by my own guidelines.

I can still remember the dirty stares fired at me from around the table about 23 years, 7 months, 12 days and 16 hours ago when I split a pair of kings.

I think I lost both hands and I haven’t done that since.

I don’t know if I qualify as a simple person, but I do love the simple aspect of Blackjack.

Deal.

Hit or Stay.

Bust or Don’t Bust.

Win or Lose.

Deal again.

It’s that simple.

Poker has more scenarios than a Rubik’s cube.

Just when you think you’ve got a winning hand, somebody flops a nut straight on you.

Ok, I don’t have any idea what that means, but I thought it would sound cool.

Perhaps the biggest reason I have stayed away from Poker is I don’t know when to go all in.

Pretty much the same feeling I have regarding my next move in the working world.

The bottom line is for the last 25 years, I have worked in one industry, building experience and a good reputation.

Two things that don’t mean squat right now.

I’m definitely not afraid to try something new, but I just can’t get comfortable with throwing away everything I have done.

But I’m getting closer every day.

I just got a very nice note from a loyal reader named Zoe who said that she believes that “you’re at the point when you finally realize that going back to your old life just isn’t an option.”

“Run to that place -- it’s liberating, then go and do what you want, just not that old stuff. Lots of us have started over and your big story will be how you got there and what you did.”

First of all, THANK YOU. Your feedback is much appreciated.

Second of all, easier said than done.

As I told her, the hardest part for me is going all in -- a 100% departure from my old life and old career.

A big part of me has definitely moved on, but all it takes is a call from a possible employer in my old industry (insert joke here) and emotionally I’m back in the game.

Now if we’ve learned anything from Lady Gaga, it’s that a true Poker Face has no emotion.

And of course, when that call doesn’t come, day after day, week after week, it can be devastating.

Seventeen months ago, when my job went away, I made a list (in my head) of all the things that I hoped to accomplish before heading back to the working world.

From family goals, like re-introducing myself to my wife and kids, to personal goals, like working out each day, I’m pretty proud of what I have done.

I’ve also learned how to use my home computer to edit video, to the point where I recently helped a friend by producing and editing a video for youtube.

I have NO doubt that there are a lot of jobs out there that I can do.

I have NO doubt that many companies would be lucky to have me.

But I have A LOT of doubt that I can really walk away from a profession I have called home for more than half of my life.

I may get there. Someday. I may not.

But what I do know is that either way, for now, I’m still motivated.

And I guess that’s my ace in the hole.