I don’t know her name.
It’s unlikely that I’ll ever know who she is. In fact, I probably won’t ever see her again.
But she certainly made an impression on me, and a positive one at that. Bear with me, the story is worth telling and reading.
Last night, I played No-Limit Hold’em ($2-5 blinds) at the Mohegan Sun Casino in Connecticut. The game was full on a very busy Friday night inside the poker room.
Around midnight, a lady sat down. She didn’t look to be the kind of player who would normally sit down in the game like this. The table was filled with a mix of pros, semi-pros, and a few recreational players who liked to gamble. Each player had between $500 and $1,500 in cash and chips in front. The lady bought in for $300.
Over the next few hours, the lady suffered a horrible run of misfortune. It was just brutal. Everything she did turned out badly. She seemed to be a decent enough player. She might have even been a good player. It was hard to tell because whatever she did ended up a disaster.
She went broke within minutes, losing with a big hand. She managed to get unlucky. Next, she pulled out another $300 from her purse. Pretty soon, that was gone, too. Then, another $300. And another.
Sympathy is a wandering orphan at the poker table. No one cares how much their opponents lose, so long as the cards keep flying. Usually, when someone is losing badly, the player becomes the game’s prime target. The losing player is unlikely to play as well as normal, knows they aren’t getting respect, and might even get really frustrated and go on tilt for a large number. Losers might as well wear a giant bulls-eye. The poker table becomes a small pond with sharks in the water swirling around and smelling blood.
Rarely do I feel sorry for anyone at a poker table, but this lady took some horrible beats. Each time afterward, she dug into her purse and kept on buying more chips. From her appearance, this lady wasn’t wealthy. The money was very real to her. She handled her chips well, which was a subtle indication that she was an experienced player. But the frustration of taking beat after beat after beat was clearly taking its toll.
Nevertheless, the lady never complained, nor said anything. She shook her head a few times and even seemed exasperated after getting pocket kings cracked once when an ace flopped. But she kept her emotions completely in check. I must admit that I was impressed with her demeanor. One doesn’t see self-control at the poker table often, especially by someone getting their brains beat out.
I lost count of how many times the lady rebought and then lost her entire stack. Finally, at about 2 am I decided to call it a night. I cashed out with more chips than I started with, some of the profit thanks to the lady’s ugly run of cards.
As I racked up my chips and prepared to leave, the lady looked up from the felt. She casually said to me, “It was nice playing with you….have a nice evening.” No one else at the table said that, or anything else. Just the lady. In fact, no one said a word. Only her.
I was taken back by the simple random act of kindness, especially since it was shown in the storm of such adversity. It’s easy to be nice and kind and to smile at strangers when things are going well. But try getting your teeth kicked in at least half a dozen times and then being cordial to someone who beat you. Moreover, imagine if the money really does mean something to the victim. That expression wasn’t just a display of pure class, it was emotionally stirring.
“You do the same,” I replied, that seemingly insignificant incident not completely having sunk in yet.
As I walked back to my hotel room through the casino, I thought more and more about the game and how impressed I was that a stranger who took such a beating in a poker game could muster up such class and kindness. I then vowed to reflect upon that brief episode and share it. Tough as it is to do, we could use a bit more of that.
Quality of life is sometimes measured in small everyday gestures. Like hello’s. Goodbyes. Handshakes. Holding doors. Saying “thank you.”
Accordingly, the content of character isn’t determined as much by grandiosity as simplicity. It’s the little things. It’s revealed by doing something just for the sake of doing it because it’s right.
Oddly enough, I was more impressed by the woman who lost the most money in that poker game than by anyone else at the table. One doesn’t say that very often.
To that lady, whoever you are out there — you have my respect.