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Thursday, March 25, 2010

I'm OK. It was only a scratch.

And now, the final installment of my story.  Here's part 1,  here's part 2:

The 3rd (that I know of) margarita arrives and play continues around the table.  A couple of wins, a couple of losses.  A Typical Blackjack round.  Then quietly, the tide turns and the cards begin to fall favorably again.  When I win, I steadily increase my bet each time up until the point I lose a hand.  I then start over on the next hand and begin the process anew.  That's the only way you win money at Blackjack.  If you keep the same bet out each time, you will sit there for 3 hours and have about $10 more than when you arrived in the first place.  I don't like that.  Now, this whole time, I have been squirreling a couple of chips away each time.  I figure if the bottom falls out at anytime, I have something in reserve that never gets touched at any point and at least I walk away even for the session.   I know I have at least my original $60, so, I am only playing on the House's money.   

Now the margaritas must have kicked in because my admirer places a $15 bet out waiting for the next hand.  First card dealt; an Ace.  "Alright!," she says.  "Halfway home".  Cards are dealt around the table, dealer gets a face card.  The 2nd cards are dealt,  and lo and behold, another Ace lands on top of the first one.  "Yes!!"  So now, she is forced to split these and play as two separate potential winning Blackjack hands, but, it will cost another $15 to do so.   "Do you think I should do it?" "Quicker than Dickie the Peap heading for the door after dinner," I replied.  I get a highly puzzled look from the rest of the players at the table and suddenly remember I am no longer in Institute territory.  The Dealer says, "Pardon me?"    "Never mind.  Yes, split the cards".  Out go another 3-$5 chips for the bigtime showdown.  "I'm nervous with the dealers King showing."  It doesn't matter as she gets a 10 and a Queen.  Blackjack, twice.  Pay the lady $45.  Well, you would have thought my new friend had hit the lottery.  "Wow!  That was great!  Can I kiss you?"     

Now, I don't know how to exactly explain what happened next.  I was not and had no intentions of flirting with this woman.  I was just in for an afternoon of some relaxing card playing, hopefully pick up a couple of bucks, and enjoy myself.  That's it.    So what did I do?  "Sure, that's fine".  She grabbed the back of my head with her left hand, my chin with her right and gave me a big kiss on the cheek.  No sooner than finishing that act, she screams, "your wife!"    Standing no less than 5 feet is Mrs. Kfred about to ask me the obligatory " how ya doin'?" question, but now the look on her face is a little more puzzled over something more than my well being.    "Hello dear, What's going on here?"  I immediately realize the danger that is fast approaching. 

Part of my leadership skill set is to identify potential problems, implement strategies to deal with those problems, and execute those strategies to eliminate the problem.   Between dealing with a semi-drunk senior citizen, a new player at the 3rd base position of the table who has no problem with hitting a 15 while the rest of the table has pat hands with the dealer's up card being a 6,  and a wife I have NEVER given any reason to question my fidelity over after 28 years of marriage (and has  now lost a total of   $140 on those damn slot machines), I quickly decide it is time to am-scray.  I slide my chips to the dealer and tell him to cash me out.  My one saving grace is that I had been squirreling those chips away the whole afternoon.  My beginning stake has now grown to $200.  Subtracting the initial $60 and the $140 Mrs. Kfred has lost, our total household budget is even.  Same as when we walked in the door of the place.

Mrs. Kfred never got really mad.  I would like to  think my afternoon of adventure was due partly to my rugged good looks, chiseled features, straight teeth, muscular build,  and all of the rest of that bullshit.  Deep down, though I know the true attraction:    Some women are just attracted to men whom know how to accessorize their wardrobe.  I am confident that is what caused this whole episode.  My fashion accessory of choice?   The official FTI Fanny Pack I have been wearing the whole time.

5 comments:

  1. You CEO types are all the same. Chick magnets.

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  2. I swear it was going to be the Bermuda shorts and white tube socks!!

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  3. Well, you had the Bermudas right. They were actually black socks and matching wingtip shoes.

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  4. You did not give any credit to the guy who suggested the betting strategy you used while winning at 21. You know, the alligator guy, Mr. cheapo, the fellow who is a steward to his finances, the guy with the stump that still spits out a few coins for retirement.

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  5. I point out to our 2 faithful readers that the developer of the above referenced method of betting was, in fact, Dickey the Peap.

    The Peap-ed one developed this method as an alternative to his previously dismal attempt of wealth creation via stock selection. He did, however, make many other individuals quite wealthy by recommending particular stocks as potential "winners". These soon to be wealthy individuals subsequently avoided any of these choices like the plague. And the rest, as they say, is history.

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