Here’s a hand I played in the big no-limit game at Lucky Chances. There was a guy in the game I’d never played with before, and he was giving lots of action. So far I’d played two pots against him. Both times I was on the button. Both times the river went check-check. Both times I turned over the winner. And both times my cards caught him by surprise by being quite a bit less strong than he expected. He made it known both times that in his world, I suck.
Then this hand came up. My stack was about $4,000 and he had me covered. He was on the button and I had the big blind. Everyone folded to him and he opened for $160. The small blind folded and I called. The flop was J-J-2 rainbow. I checked, and he checked. The turn was an ace. I checked. He started to check, then he said “time,” and he acted like he was thinking, and then he said “two hundred.” I called instantly with two $100 chips while he fumbled around with ten $20 chips on their way into the pot.
The river was a king. Final board: J-J-2,A,K. I checked. His face got consternated and he shrugged and said, “Your ace is good. I check.” I turned over pocket sixes and he said, “That’s good too.”
Then he said, “Nice hand, buddy. Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”
Now, if he had intended this as a polite question, then I would have ignored him politely. But he didn’t. He was being mean. I’d heard this rib before many times over the years. He was mocking me and my poker playing by implying that I must have a pretty good job to be able to afford to play as bad as I do. Well, I lost my cool and I got rough. I ignored him ruthlessly.
It all ended happily though, when one of my favorite foes, Sam B., spoke up and replied on my behalf.
“He plays limit.”