A St. Petersburg academy is teaching would-be dealers how to do it professionally.
Paul Burgess (left) grabs his winnings as Jay Bradley laughs during a Texas hold'em instructional game at the Real Deal Poker Academy in St. Petersburg. Students at the academy are learning how to become professional card dealers.
John Plenzick makes a living grooming people to be card dealers. Before he even meets me, he can tell I will not be his star pupil. I call him because I want to ask about a new state law, taking effect today, that is likely to create more and better-paying jobs for dealers. He mentions Texas hold'em."Oh," I say, "you teach poker and Texas hold 'em?" His pause lasts just a millisecond. "Texas hold 'em is a type of poker," he tells me. He is very kind.
Plenzick, 39, runs Real Deal Poker Academy in St. Petersburg. The cardinal rule here is this: Even if you've played poker since before you could walk, that doesn't qualify you to be a professional dealer. You must know how to handle security-camera protocol, cheating players and distinct house rules.
You don't have to go to poker school to get a job as a dealer, but it sure helps.
I come to a Monday night class, and Plenzick starts me off like he starts everyone: with a lesson on shuffling.
Ah ha, I think. I know how to do that.
I'm wrong.
Squeeze the cards when you cut them, so the stacks will look clean, Plenzick tells me. To strip the deck, hold onto the top and pull out the bottom, not the other way around. Never hand someone a card; there's an art to flicking it across the table.
And for goodness' sake, take your elbows off the table.
"Isn't that a lot easier?" Plenzick asks after I do.
It is.
- - -
John Plenzick (left) Corey Bakhtiarian (center) and Craig Ellis play Texas hold 'em at the Real Deal Poker Academy in St. Petersburg.
Across the state, there are a handful of schools like Plenzick's, though most are in South Florida. Real Deal is housed in a bedraggled strip mall across the street from the Derby Lane greyhound track. There are folding chairs and two gaming tables in the front room, and posters by C.M. Coolidge (the dogs-playing-poker guy) all over the walls.
Classes meet three nights a week for four hours a pop. A six-week course costs $600; by the end of it, you should be ready to professionally deal any game that's legal in Florida. For $150, you can take a two-week course that will prepare you to deal Texas hold'em for parties and recreational gatherings.
Like waiters, dealers earn less than minimum wage and depend on tips. A good dealer, Plenzick says, can pull in $30 an hour before taxes, working for gaming rooms, private parties and charity fundraisers.
Tonight, he has six students. All are experienced players, so Plenzick lets them play game after game, taking turns as the dealer.
He doles out instructions:
Use your index finger to count chips. "Blinds, please" is easier to say than Big blind, small blind. Never, ever put your hands below the table. If someone turns his cards over, give him the honor of reading them; don't say, "Well, no wonder you lost."
Remember, you want the players to like you.
- - -
After fumbling through my shuffling lesson, I take a seat with the rest of the students. I hold no illusions of winning any hands.
"You've never played poker at the kitchen table with your brothers and sisters?" Jim Cooper asks me from across the table, sounding incredulous.
I have an older sister. And we've never played anything together.
"You've led a sheltered life," Cooper, 63, tells me, shaking his head.
He, on the other hand, dealt blackjack and craps for 30 years, 20 of them in Las Vegas. He's at the Poker Academy because those games aren't legal in Florida, so he has to brush up on more marketable skills.
In this class, he's the only student who has dealt cards professionally. The rest are from varied backgrounds: Two are in auto sales. One, the only woman in the class, owns a clothing store. Another is a collections agent, and another is a security guard.
They all love cards, and figure they might as well make a living at them.
"You're your own boss at the table," said Jay Bradley, 25, who works security at the Seminole Hard Rock in Tampa and hopes to audition to be a dealer soon.
Another perk: Even if your clients hate you, "it only lasts for a hand or two," said Craig Ellis, 37.
He's the collections agent.
- - -
As the night goes on, I start to nail the poker terminology: Check, fold, call, raise. Rags. Flop. Burn card.
Sadly, the lingo is the only thing I can get right. I hesitate before every turn.
"Your eyes are popping out of your head," observes a grinning Kourosh "Cory" Bakhtiarian, 49, a car salesman from St. Pete Beach. "Because you can see, 'I have a good hand!'"
So much for my poker face, I think.
Then Paul Burgess, a former student who has stopped by for a few rounds, briefly compares playing poker with me to getting a root canal.
After that, I try to speed things up.
Christina Rexrode can be reached at [email protected] or (727) 893-8318.
FAST FACTS: Where do dealers work?
Local card dealers can work at private parties and fundraisers, as well as a handful of gaming rooms, like these:
* Derby Lane greyhound racing, St. Petersburg
* Treasure Island Casino Cruz, Madeira Beach
* Tampa Bay Downs thoroughbred racing, Tampa
* Tampa Greyhound Track, Tampa
* Seminole Hard Rock Casino, Tampa
* Sarasota Kennel Club greyhound racing, Sarasota |
发表于 2007-7-2 00:16
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