Monday 8/10/2020 to Thursday 8/13/2020
I won't do the play by play. It's more fun to just amalgamate the highlight reel of the week.
I get call after call from people looking for 380 and 9mm ammo. One notable dialogue at 8PM
1: You have any 380 ammo?
Me: Yes, I have 7 boxes yet
1: How much?
Me: 20 to a box, 50 each
1: Great we can come pick it up now!
Me: It's 8PM and I've already left for the day. Come in tomorrow
1: But we need it now.
Me: I'm not heading back to work to sell a box of ammo.
1: Oh come on! I called you! You should be able to help me!
Me: I am, during normal business hours. But if you really want 2 boxes - $100 bill and I'll head back in.
1: ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS? YOU JUST TOLD ME IT WAS TWENTY!
Me: Twenty to a box, 50 bucks each box times two boxes
1: That's highway robbery! That's price gouging!
Me: Go look online. Nobody has any 380 ammo. And if they do it is $1 or $2 per round.
1: That's ridiculous! You're not the only guy in town that has 380 ammo!
(Editors note: She calls back the next day asking for 380 ammo. Apparently I am the only guy in town that has 380 ammo. I tell her there's a new policy. No ammo sales to people who have not bought firearms.)
One of my surgeon customers calls me telling me his lead nurse who hates guns wants to buy a gun. I tell them to come on down. Her whole family and the doc come in and I have this dialogue.
1: Can you suggest a gun for someone who hates guns?
Me: That's like a vegan walking into a steakhouse and saying "whats a good steak for a vegan?" - there's no real good way to do it and everything I can suggest you is sold out and then some.
1: Well what do you have here?
Me: That's a Glock 17, here take a look.
(Unload and show clear, hand her a Glock 17)
1: OH MY GOD THIS IS SO HEAVY!
Me: That's one of the lightest full size firearms ever made.
1: Do you have something with a safety? I love safeties. The more the better. If you have a gun with 150 safetys, that's something I would be interested in.
(I glare at the doc)
Me: I've only got three or four different model pistols left in stock. Here try out this springfield XD-S.....
1: I don't like this thing in the grip here the bump....
Me: You mean the grip safety?
1: yes
1: What happened to "I love safties the more the better"
(Doc nearly inhales his surgical mask from laughing)
She hates guns and wants to go rent a bunch of guns before buying any guns but I explain the problem is you can go rent something, fall in love with it and the dealer can't get one for a year. Case in point: Glock 19's, Sig 365's and Springfield Hellcats. She believes she is not ready to buy a gun until she rents one. I tell her go to a range and go rent one and find out what she likes.
She has just taken a "safety course" offered by the local girl and a gun chapter. The local girl and a gun chapter is run by a middle aged woman who has NRA instructor creds that is the WORST FIREARM INSTRUCTOR I HAVE EVER MET IN MY LIFE with the possible exception of James Yaeger. The last time I was at one of her events she was using the "mugger in a hoodie" paper targets and she instructed all the women to shoot him in the balls during one course of fire.
Now, I wasn't wearing my Caltech shirt that day but the fast math and trig is as follows.
Person shooting at a target 10 feet from the bench at a downward angle with a backstop of dirt 50 feet behind the bench...
I was trying to fix someone's gun before I could do anything. I am concentrated on fixing this pistol and the first volley of gunfire breaks my concentration. I then hear the sound of dozens of 9mm projectiles hitting the concrete and skipping off the property. I drop the pistol and shout at the top of my lungs a cease fire and evetyone looks at me funny
Me: KAREN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?
1: Oh they're just girls, let them have their fun!
Me: ALL THE BULLETS ARE LEAVING THE PROPERTY!
1: What? No! How?
(I point at all the ricochet gouges on the concrete of the gun club)
1: Ohhhhhh
This woman is barely qualified to run a dairy queen much less instruct neophyte gun owners. Holy fucking shit. Why are people going to her? She's open, and she's a woman that has credentials that "can teach".
Yeah.
One day I head to lunch at the local pizza joint for lunch with Megan. Eddie makes a nice pizza and I sit down and have a pie. We rap about business as I eat my antipasato and wait for my freshly prepared clam pie to cool down a bit. It's not on the menu but he makes it special for us.
Me: hey eddie how's business?
ed: It's steady, lots of takeout.
Me: Its a tough economy I'd take it!
ed: Hey now!
Me: You doing okay?
ed: yeah I found that derringer I wanted at the last gun show!
Me: Oh really?
ed: Yeah! Someone ceracoted it tiffany blue and magenta
Me: Whoa whoa whoa! Please! I'm trying to eat here! Disgusting!
(Megan is drinking water and nearly does a spit take)
This is the world we're living in now.
Speaking of the new world... I wind up working a deal with a friend and we split 100k pcs of once fired lake city 5.56 brass. A local military contractor was doing some testing and they had a fucking ton of it and this is what was left. We got it for the cost of manpower to scrape it up and load it, clean it, tumble it and sort it and deprime and resize it.
My friend has two kids that are doing online learning with school, so he made them a deal. He cut the kiddos a deal to help him clean and resize and deprime the brass as labor.
We're into this stuff CHEAP. So we can sell it cheap or whatever the fuck we want in this market. I tell Ray I've got the perfect ad. We get some projectiles, some powder and primers and we run an ad. "5.56 ammo! $275/thousand! Some assembly required!" and Ray laughs his ass off.
The we got it was it was loaded into some wooden ammo crates that were left over at the contractors facility. They're heavy, not cost effective to ship and came with 5000 pcs of brass each. Ray gets an idea. He has discovered that if we portion it out and throw out or sell the wooden crates, we save a ton of money on shipping.
I wonder where he got this idea from.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nozIkRy0v-M The kiddos load all the brass into USPS flat rate boxes in no time flat and we've got ourselves loaded ready to roll product that can ship immediately. His kids did the legwork in the loading on account of my bad back and I'm tasked with lining up buyers. No problem. I start working the local gun boards, my customers, myspace, etc. You know the usual spots.
This is where the wheels come off the wagon. I get a guy who comes right out the gate asking for 9k and then he blurts out "How much do you have, I'm interested in all of it"
Little hint for the readers. Anyone that says they're interested in everything you have are interested in nothing you have. They're blowing smoke 99% of the time and the 1% of the time that someone does buy everything you have, you're making a killing off them or they're making a killing off you. You know the old saying in poker - if you sit down at the table and you can't find the sucker in 5 minutes, you're the sucker? It's like that.
Anyhow, my ad reads as follows: $125/thousand 5.56 Brass Lake City cleaned, sorted, resized, trimmed and polished - DILLON 1050 READY!
The guy calling me wanting 9k then asked how much I had left - he lines up 9 of his friends and they want to take ALL of it and divvy it up. Pick up today or when the guys can get off of work and come get it, they're working back asswards logistics as to who's truck is going to haul all of it, who's loading it and unloading and they plan to show up at 630 tonight after work to come get it.
At 445 I get a message - hey can you send me a picture again one of my friends wants to check something and I send it over.
And that's when the entire deal falls apart because this butthead read 5.56 brass lake city NATO headstamp $125/thousand and thought he was getting loaded 5.56 NATO spec ammo for 12.5 cents a round in 2020, told all his friends about it and shot his mouth off like a damn fool. Now he has to explain to every single one of his friends that no you're not getting 10,000 rds of 5.56 NATO ammo for $1250. Wasting my fucking time. That was my Thursday. All these people begging for ammo are driving me nuts. Yes, I have 250,000 rds of ammo. No I am not going to bend over backwards and sell it to you cheap just to be a nice person/earn your business/because your sister gave me a handjob in high school. God damn.
Lady calls me looking for 380 ammo. She needs some for her CCW class that Karen is teaching and I tell her I have some left. She comes in and I tell her it's $50 a box. She leaves without buying anything.
There's other miscellany but you get the gist of it.
NOW here's the meat and potatoes you've wanted! The tale of the gun show!
Friday 8/14/2020
I take inventory. I'm down to about 500 guns in stock and I pack as much as I can and get it ready for the show. I've got some Sigs left, a handful of Glock and a mishmash of everything else. I head to bed early knowing full well the next show will be a total shitshow. I have not done a show in a big city for nearly six months. This will be epic or epic fail.
Saturday 8/15/2020
I pull chocks at 430AM, hit the flying J for diesel and pull into the local grocery store for a sandwich at 7AM right around the corner from the gun show. They fuck up my sandwich. Serves me right for buying morning of. Fuck me to tears. I start loading into the show and the entire front of the building is set up with crowd control barriers and it takes me an extra 40 minutes to thread the needle of my hand truck and loadout. I get the table setup as fast as I can and by 9AM the doors are open and we are off to the races. I will do hour blocks instead of my previous play by play for simplicity.
9AM: Right out the gate I have people asking me for Sig 365's. I have a used one with three mags and a holster I have tagged at $650. The guy asks me if I can do any better. I ask him if he's feeling lucky. I run the 4473 bet with him.
He fills out the form straight on the first shot, no corrections - and he gives me $650, he gets $50 back with his ID.
If there's a correction to be made, I keep half a yard. He says its a bet. He loses.
As I write that up at $650, I have another guy snag a regular 365 for $700. Both their background checks clear quickly.
The morning is not off to a bad start, I think to myself. I'm about to be proven wrong massively.
One of my old friends from high school asked me to liquidate some of his collection and I told him that I would selectively cherry pick some stuff and haul it to the show since I didn't want to commit large amounts of table space for other people's guns. He's got a super clean Century M70 underfolder. It's clean even by century standards but I don't want to buy that gun.
I have it out on the table and an old romanian guy starts checking it out.
1: What country is this from?
FC: I'm not a big AK guy, it's a century so I'm guessing maybe yugoslavia or maybe romania - I don't think that its a bulgarian one, but you're welcome to take a look
1: Does it say cugir?
FC: It does not
1: How do you know it does not say cugir?
FC: I can see the side of it it does not say that
1: Where does it not say?
FC: If you look at the side of the receiver, Century has shitty electropencil that is parkerized over that you can barely read
1: Do you have some oil I can put on there to rub on it so I can read it?
FC: Look, I'll read it. What do you want to know?
1: Does it say cugir?
FC: it does not.
1: What does it say?
FC: Century M70 AB2 7.62 x 39 Georgia Vermont
1: it does not say cugir? I am romanian if it says cugir is romanian
FC: It does not say that
1: Come on then make me a deal!
(1 taps the price tag marked at $850)
FC: It's the first 20 minutes of the show, I'm not making anything on the deal it's a favor for a friend of mine. I think that gun sells down here for top dollar.
1: I give you 600 cash
FC: Come see me at the end of the show maybe I'll be amenable to discounting but not this early
1: You know problem with topcover right?
(FC looks at topcover, it's slightly off from the hole and detent. Why? IT'S A CENTURY! WHAT DID YOU FUCKING EXPECT?!?! The care and attention to detail that only Jim Fuller from Rifle Dynamics or maybe a Bulgarian Arsenal offers? Fuck you.)
FC: This gun is gonna sell this weekend as is where is, even if you think it's not right.
1: Come on make me deal!
FC: I don't negotiate with terrorists or people spending under $10k. This ain't over $10k.
1: I have cash!
FC: Got $850? We'll write it up right now.
(1 walks away and comes back 3 minutes later)
1, while holding a wad of cash: Come on make me a deal!
FC: What's your offer?
1: I will go $700
FC: Come see me at the end of the show on Sunday and I'll see what I can do.
(1 gets yelled at by the county exhibition authority for not wearing a face mask correctly and he adamantly refuses to adjust his mask and starts a full blown screaming match with the poor county employee who VERY politely asked him to wear his face mask properly. As he is engaged in this animated debate, two individuals who I will call 2 and 3 show up. 2 and 3 want the underfolder AK. 2 and 3 are what we would call hip hop/droopy jean enthusiasts, their dialogue is presented word for word without adjustment. They were dropping the hard r, not me so please don't call me names for reporting the truth.)
2: ohhhhh snapppp this is what I came here lookin for!
3: damn nigga thats a straight up choppa right there you should buy that
1: HEY I WAS HERE FIRST I AM MAKING DEAL! BACK OFF!
FC: No, you walked away - these two gentlemen are here and now they're interested in that gun and I'm giving them my time.
1: BUT I WAS HERE FIRST HOLDING CASH!
2: back off nigga I'm here to check out stuff motherfucker i'm gonna mess you up
3: yeah man back the fuck off before my nigga messes you up god damn shieeeeeeit
1: I AM HERE! HOLDING CASH! YOU GOING TO DO BUSINESS WITH ME?
FC: You walked away. This is what happens when you walk away. It's their turn......
1: BUT I AM HERE WE ARE MAKING DEAL
(FC does an ACTUAL facepalm and presses his forehead and feels a headache beginning. A deep sigh)
FC: You two.....you're killing me here.
1: I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF MAKING DEAL AND YOU DON'T WANT TO DEAL!
FC: You want to see deal? I'll show you deal!
(FC grabs AK from the hip hop enthusiasts and looks right at them while holding an order pad in right hand and rifle in other)
FC: You got $750 cash?
2: nigga I got $750 cash right here (pulls out wad of 100's)
3: oh shit that guy gonna get fuckin SWOOPED
FC: You want me to write this up right now? $750 cash. And I'll throw in 4 mags (I pull out 4 mags loaded with x39 brown bear)
2: I GET THE MAGS AND THE AMMO FOR THAT PRICE? FUCK NIGGA YOU GOT A DEAL! (he counts out $800 in c-notes and drops his ID on the table)
FC: You got yourself a rifle.
(I look back at angry romanian)
FC: That's a deal. You passed. Move faster next time.
1: I AM STANDING HERE! HOLDING CASH!
(1 throws down a stack of cash on the table, some falls behind on my table. I pick it back up and place it on his stack)
FC: You dropped some back here, don't want you thinking I shorted you or stole your money. I've got to write up these gentlemen, we're here until 5 today if you need anything else
1: (shouts at me in angry romanian while gesticulating like George Costanza complaining to Elaine about taking credit for the big salad)
FC: I'm sorry about that guy, he's got some issues. That man needs therapy not another gun
2: all good nigga all good that mofo gonna get his ass beat someday
FC: Today I didn't even have to use my AK, I got to say it was a good day
3: sheeeeeit he knows ice cube! this nigga og!
FC: Catholic school for the win!
(we fist bump)
I piss off at least one person every show. Sometimes it's good to get it out of the way in the first hour, lets you concentrate on the bigger picture things.
Three down.
10AM: Guy points at a green Glock 43 and Glock 19 Gen 4 that I have. They're each tagged at $725. Cash comes out and I write up the sale. Three women in a row snag black Glock 43's from me at $700 each. We are cranking now!
Eight down before lunch. This is getting wild.
11AM: Colt Lightweight Commander - tagged at $1050. Sells for cash. Colt Combat Unit - tagged at $1450 Sells for cash. Glock 19 MOS Gen 4 - tagged at $825. Sells for cash. Two of them back to back. Gen 4 straight 19 tagged at 775 sells on Amex. Background checks begin to start bogging down.
Thirteen down before I can even touch my sammich.
12PM: I write up three ruger LCP's in a row at $300 each. I eat half my sandwich as I sell a Kel Tec Sub 2000 at $825. Springfield Hellcat tagged at $735 goes out on a mastercharge.
Eighteen before I'm done with lunch. Sheeeeit.
1PM: My old buddy Rusty Shackleford sends me some of his collection he does not want the hassle with selling. Three ugly as sin Glock 21's, three semi clean Glock 17's and two super like new 17's. 1PM is profitable as I manage to sell everything except for a 21 and 17. People are paying $650 for PD trade 21's and $700+ on trade in Glock 17's. Why? They're the only ones in the show. Not glocks in general, I mean 21's and 17's.
Twenty four down and I have yet to finish my sandwich.
2PM: I have an immigrant from another country come over and try to buy a gun. He's super patient waiting for me to finish with customers that DO NOT STOP. Springfield XD goes out at $600. That's 25. He hands me the clipboard and I immediately stop everything I'm doing and I look down at the form.
Not only has he forgotten 10A and 12.d.2 but he's put the city in the county box and answered the firearm is not for him and he's been convicted of misdemeanor DV. I sigh and hand the form back to him for corrections.
FC: Okay, what county are we in?
1: (names city)
FC: What COUNTY are we in?
1: oh! USA!
FC: What COUNTY is this city in?
1: (names city)
FC: We're in (names county)
1: Ohhhhh thats right
FC: Who's this gun for? You or someone else?
1: Me
FC: Is there any reason you've indicated you are NOT the actual purchaser?
1: Not good at reading the form I guess
FC: Strike out intiial and date the change
1: Okay
FC: Have you been convicted of a misdemanor crime of domestic violence?
1: No it was just a misdemeanor
FC: Is there a reason why you said "yes I have been convicted of a misdemeanor crime of domestic violence?"
1: oh man I screwed that up
FC: Initial and date the change
(He fixes the front of the form and signs on 14 and dates on 15. I turn the page. He's written his passport number expiration date in the ID field and indicated that NICS has denied him)
FC: Is there any reason you wrote your passport expiration date and number here?
1: Well I'm supposed to do that, right?
(FC points to line that says SECTION B MUST BE COMPLETED BY SELLER)
1: Oh man
FC: Is there any reason you checked DENIED on the NICS result box?
1: did I do that?
(FC points to the box where he's put a big bold X under DENIED)
1: Was I not supposed to do that?
(FC hands him another form to complete)
3PM: It is now over an hour to get this 4473 done. His wife and child have to help him with the form. I finish my sammich as I look at the front of his form and it is still marked "firearm is being purchased for someone not me" and he has to correct it. I turn the page. The date is marked 9/8/2020.
FC: What day is today?
1: Saturday
FC: No I mean what day is today, what calendar day?
(1 pulls out his phone)
1: Oh. You want me to do another form?
FC: No, strike out using a single line. And using WORDS - write the date.
1: gotcha
(FC looks down at the form. the date is struck out using a single line. It now reads in words SATURDAY 9/8/2020)
FC: What day is it?
1: It's saturday.
FC: Saturday the.........
1: Fifteeenth?
FC: Then explain why this says 9/8/2020?
1: Oh man you want me to do another form?
FC: Just fill it out using WORDS AS THE DATE - MONTH/DAY/YEAR
1: okay I got you
(FC hands the form back for correction)
1: I got it now! Man was that hard!
(FC looks down at the form. SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 8 2020)
FC: Take out your phone
(1 takes out his phone and presses the home button)
FC: Look at the date. What does it say and look at what you wrote.
1: Oh man
FC: Is it possible for us to get the correct date?
1: Yeah man I'm so sorry....
FC: Take out your phone and write out the date in letters and words EXACTLY AS YOUR PHONE DISPLAYS IT
1: Okay I can do that
(FC looks down at the form. 3:23 SATURDAY AUGUST 15. Fuck it, this is as good as it gets.)
FC: Close enough. Give me your ID.
(I write up my last Glock 19. It's tagged at $825. He pays cash without blinking.)
I mean, I've seen some shit but WOWWWW.
That's 26.
4PM: The rest of my glocks fly off the table. NIB Glock 36 - tagged at $725, gone. NIB Glock 30SF, tagged at $700, gone. NIB Glock 30, tagged at $700, gone. The only thing left on the table are 17 Gen 5 MOS's at $875 and 43X's at $775 and 44's at $400. That's 29 by 4PM. One guy does not have current ID so I have him go on the fish and game website on his phone and get a fishing license that gets me his up to date address. After 20 minutes he emails me a screencap and he's on his way home with his Glock 30.
5PM: Time to go home! I drop a stack of guns off at the local dealer for transfer on my way out the door and I make it home just before 7PM after stopping at the grocery to pick up dinner. I have a platter of fried chicken and mac and cheese. It is delicious. I get to bed early, tomorrow is going to be a long fucking day.
Sunday August 16th
737AM. I wake up and get my ass to my desk. I need to replenish some of the table. I grab stacks of more guns and get them loaded up and I swing by the grocery store deli on the way to the show. It's 8AM and they are out of bread. As in the bakery has not baked them any bread for sandwiches. For fucks sake. They make me a wrap instead. And they make it WRONG. I am not happy.
10AM: Get to the show and uncover my tables and get cranking. A millennial wants a Ruger LC380 and her fucking debit card does not work. This is why you bring cash to gun shows. It's fucking useless when technology fails AND YOU HAVE NO BACKUP. She transfers money from wells fargo to her boyfriends account at chase and he tries to use the ATM to get her cash. No dice. I swear to jebus, if you take debit cards away from this generation all of them will starve to death and die alone. Gun number 30 for the weekend is hard fought but it's done.
11AM: Crank off a Sig 1911 for a guy. He sends a stand in to pick it up for him since his son is exempt from waiting period but he isn't. It goes like this.
1: I'm gonna buy this gun instead
FC: why?
1: that's none of your business
FC: Yes it is. Purchase of firearm with intent to resell is unlawful
1: What I do with the gun after I get it, if I want to sell it to my dad is my business not yours
FC: No dice. Take a hike
Dad: Lets just do it his way, he wants to give it to the other dealer that's what we'll do. Sorry for the misunderstanding.
I write up 31 for the weekend. My jack sack is full of cash.
12PM: I got a guy come over, former law enforcement wanting to buy his kid a gun. He wants to do the paperwork and pay me and the gun is for his kid. I say if the gun is for the kid, he needs to do it. I shake off the forms and get the kid on the clipboard and everything goes smooth and I rack up a sale for a trade in FN FNS. That's 32.
1PM: Old school NYPD beat cop comes over wanting a deal on a springfield 1911 Long Beach Operator
1: They're 1911's! They're not popular anymore! Make me a deal!
FC: ANYTHING with a barrel and a trigger is popular right now. Best deal you're getting is on the tag, which is 1250 plus tax and call in that puts you right near 1350.
1: Come on, hook a brother up!
FC: That's the rate on everything, we're selling it out as fast as we can get it! Excuse me as I help these other people......
2PM: Lady comes by and says she wants a shield EZ. I ask her why. She says her man and her firearm instructor says she cant rack the slide. I pick up a Sig 220 off the table and tell her to show me. She racks the slide. I ask her how does it feel to rack a slide properly? She spends the rest of the day wondering why they lied to her. Another lady asks me for suggestions for a first gun. I ask her what she's shot before. Answer: Nothing. She cannot rent guns and try them out because every range is booked for firearm rentals for the next 2 months out. Yeah.........
Brooklyn 99 comes back over and taps on the LB operator
1: Come on man, hook a brother up!
FC: That's the price, the LB operators are a sexy gun and they're not coming out of the warehouse very often
1: Come on brother! I'm just looking for a deal! How about 1200 all in?
FC: Cash or card?
1: Card
FC: No dice.
1: Come on brother! (more pleading for a discount)
At this point the crowd at the table has heard this guy trying to get a discount for a few minutes and I've had enough.
FC: Let me ask you a question
1: Sure thing
FC: Do you have pictures of my nephews on your phone?
1: No
FC: Did you spend thanksgiving dinner at my house?
1: No
FC: Are you a named beneficiary on my will?
1: No
FC: Then guess what?
You're not my brother. Hell, without your money you're not even my customer.
You could hear the snickers from the peanut gallery as I gave the guy a dressing down. I wasn't about to let him off the hook. I still had an out in the deck to play and I was going to use it.
FC: Now, if you want this gun - you want it at a discount, I respect that. Here's what I"ll do. You feeling lucky?
1: Always!
FC: Here's the clipboard. Give me a straight form, no strike outs, no errors, no mistakes, NOTHING that needs correction - I'll give it to you for 1200 on a card flat. I hand the pen back to you to fix something, I write it at 1400 all in. $200's the action, you in or you out?
1: getoutttahere
FC: I'm serious. You want the discount, get the form right and you got what you want. If there's even one error, I keep the two bills.
1: It's a bet! Lets go! I've done this hundreds of times without a problem!
I hand him the clipboard and he starts filling out the form. The peanut gallery is now fervently watching for the results as if it were not already a foregone conclusion. The fans had no idea but they were watching a fixed horse race. My dealer neighbor at the next table over chimes in.
Neighbor: hey, are you seriously taking action?
FC: ALWAYS!
Neighbor: What's the money?
FC: two bucks
Neighbor: High stakes!
FC: You haven't seen high stakes yet.
Neighbor: You're a character. I'm glad that romanian guy didn't get that rifle yesterday, he was such a pain in the ass. Like even I was annoyed by it and it wasn't even my stuff.
FC: I know, right? You snooze, you lose.
Neighbor: But really, can I get in on the 4473 bet?
FC: You can take the bookmaker out of the catholic school but.....
NYPD: I'm all done! Lets see my new $1200 gun!
(I pick up the forms and his ID and credit card and look at the forms. 12.d.2. is blank. I hand pen back to him and point at 12.d.2.)
FC: Forgot 12.d.2. That's $1400 on your Amex, sign here.
NYPD: MOTHERFUCKER THAT WASN'T ON THERE LAST TIME!
FC: When was the last time you filled out that form?
NYPD: 2012
FC: That's why. Here's your new gun, thank you for your action.
Neighbor: How often does that bet win?
FC: My house edge on that bet is 100%.
Neighbor: Shit. That's fucking hilarious. Now I know how you got that watch. I just picked up a 50th anniversary sub myself (he shows me his sub and we rap about horology for a bit.)
33 down.
3PM: ONE HOUR TO GO! I write up a shield 2.0 9mm for a lady and her hubs for $650. One lady gets unhinged when I tell her she's not going to get her gun today on account of background check volume. She starts terrorizing me with WHY CANT I GET MY GUN TODAY?!?!?!??!?! This isn't dealing with Al-Quaeda, this is Al-Karen. Last minute sale 10 minutes before the show closes cleans me out of Ruger LC9's tagged at $450. 35 down. One guy snags a Glock 43X from me for $775.
36 for the weekend makes me a happy boy. I look at all the sales in cash and credit cards and I've booked quite the fat stack of cash. I've done a month's worth of business in
TWO DAYS.
4PM: Show is closed. I start packing up. The dealer across from me has Gen 5 Glock 34's tagged at $1000, 9mm at $575/thousand and 380 at $750/thousand. We rap about the state of the industry. It's just gonna get worse closer to the election. I pack up and get all my stuff loaded up.
530PM: Homeward bound........I wish I was........HOMEWARD BOUND..............
730PM: I get back to my desk and dump off a fucking STACK of 4473's. I make a bank drop for the cash and I unload and head back home. I'm starving, so I decide to have the deli re-make their culinary abortion of a wrap.
8PM: The deli is out of bread AGAIN. Are you fucking kidding me? The deli is out of bread at 8AM
and 8PM? What is this bullshit..... the deli clerk takes an entire loaf of italian sandwich bread and uses it to make me a single sandwich. My colon is about to hate me. I'm waiting in line to have the cashier comp me as I see a big tall gun guy from the gun club walk in. I yell and wave since I'm wearing a mask and he comes over.
815PM: Tim O'Toole is a big giant irish gun nut criminal defense attorney that I know from the gun club. He is an aggressive and in your face about how wrong you are if you are wrong and at 6'6" he cuts an imposing presence on any courtroom he walks into. He's just bought a house in my neighborhood and we start chatting guns. He asks me if I have a Glock 17 Gen 3 9mm barrel for his latest build and I tell him that I've probably got 3 sitting on my desk. I jump on my phone and check pricing. Wholesale + $5 for him since he helps out a lot out at the gun club and he says it's a deal. He goes and gets groceries and I eat my meat tornado of a sandwich at home.
Monday August 17th
10AM: Tim comes by right on time for his barrel and asks what else I have. I have a Glock 43 come off layaway and go back into rotation and he snaps up that and a 43X and a whole litany of extra parts, glock 17 gen 3 firing pin, channel liner, trigger bars, extra mags, etc. My 1 item sale I set up in line at the grocery store is now a 15 item $2500 sale. And he wants even more stuff that I can't get! We rap about the best legal film ever made, My Cousin Vinny. He gets every judge to approve his demand to videotape depositions and witness statements. Why? "I shot the clerk" - you have to watch the movie to understand this reference. Every time a judge asks him why he wants it on tape he simply says "I shot the clerk" and since we are in the deep south and every judge that's been stuck in the Louisiana mud knows the film My Cousin Vinny, his motion is approved. I laughed my ass off. I told him I was very much looking forward to regaling the federal judge with some witty banter that went along the lines of "the two utes" and he laughed his ass off. I really wanted to pull that stunt.
11AM: Lady comes in to pick up a layway and she can't fill out the 4473 and wear a mask at the same time. She also cannot stop talking. She drives me nuts but I hold it together long enough to get her stuff worked up. She also asks me to get her a Glock 23 Gen 4. I tell her it won't be cheap and it's probably going to set her back $850 by the time I beat the bushes and line one up. She says no problem, Visa okay? Done. I get a Glock 23 Gen 4 off one of my dealer buddies in NC and get it squared away.
12PM: Lunctime. It's Salmon Hollandaise special at this new market just down the road from me and I stop in and say hi. It's like a small version of Eataly. I went to high school with the owners daughters and he's got 5 million bucks into this concept. Wine bar, cafe, grocery, NY bagels delivered daily, ramen bar, raw bar, restaurant, the whole 9 yards. Amazing. The fish is delish and on the way out I run into a guy I went to
ELEMENTARY school with that's now the general manager. He offers me a job managing the seafood department and I am seriously considering it given how screwed up the gun market is.
1PM: Back at my desk, have eaten the salmon and the hollandaise has found a home in my thighs. I am fat and sassy. I sell the remaning 380 I have to a customer picking up a Sig P238 and she's super stoked to get a gun.
2PM: Random walk in. Local restaurant owner that I sold a Sig 227 to a few months ago wants me to put in an SRT kit. He's disassembled the entire frame and wants me to put it togther. I explain that an SRT install is normally 5 minutes. This is easily a 45 minute job to reassemble and that's IF he has all the parts. He says he has all the parts. I begin putting the gun back together. He does not have all the parts. He goes home and says he will look harder for the missing part.
3PM: I look online for the missing part. It's $5 and 4 weeks to ship and in stock at most vendors. This sucks. I call some favors and I know of one in the mid atlantic area I can get here in a week in case he can't find it. As I get off the phone he walks in with the missing part.
Just an FYI for the readers. In ten years, I have had "bag o gun" come through the door on three previous occasions.
First: Sig 229 from local PD. Chief took it apart, couldn't put it back together. Had no backup gun and had to go on duty in a few hours, I was asked to put it together.
Second: My buddy Bruce in PA. He detail stripped his 220 and got it wrong. I put it back together and sent it back to PA.
Third: Rusty and his 226. See above. He missed some parts. I put it back together and sent it back to Texas.
If anyone thinks they see a pattern here it's because there IS a pattern here.
I start work on the 227 and this thing is a bitch and a half. The ejector, which is a 25 cent stamped metal part is not to spec. Sig's QC sucks. Their 3mm hole PRECISELY stamped in one place isn't 3mm and isn't precise. The sear pin that has to go through the left side of the frame, through the ejector, through the left side of the sear, through the sear reset spring, through the other side of the sear, through the safety lever and through the right side of the frame is NOT COOOPERATING because the ejector is too tight. I have to beat on this thing with a drilling hammer to get it to go. 45 minutes of anger and frustration later, 227 is back in action with the garbage one piece E2 grips.
For this pain, I bill $100. He tells me he should have had me do it in the first place. I say he's right but it's a tough job doing Sig classic pistols right. They're a very challenging platform.
4PM: I ship off some more 5.56 brass and pay my buddy Ray. I head home.
5PM: Beef jerky time.
I hope you all enjoyed these stories. They have not been embellished because they need no embellishment. Stay tuned for my next story where I post about the state of the firearm industry!
God bless and have a wonderful Saturday.
PS - and this is how you do a "week in the life" thread, you fucking imposter.
https://www.reddit.com/guns/comments/i759qj/a_week_in_the_life_of_your_favorite_firearm/ submitted by 1) I've never played online poker legally, but have an opportunity to. I have a girlfriend that lives in NJ (I live in NY) and I can set up a computer there to play. My question is though, when I am not there I plan to maybe access the computer remotely (while physically in NJ of course). Do any of the softwares block access when screensharing/remote access is enabled? What about through a virtual machine? I would think not, right?
2) GG poker is hosting the second have of the WSOP world series online events from Aug - Sept. Is GG Poker legal in NJ? I try to simply go to their website and it says that its not available in my country? Very strange. I would think if the WSOP is letting them host half the series that they'd still allow players in NV & NJ, right? I ask because 1) the website issue and 2) I see many players traveling to Mexico or other places to play GG?
Thanks for any and all input!
submitted by Previous:
Inside Underground NY Poker #7
Spades — 1.7 Junior year of high school is by far the hardest year for a student. There is so much that goes on — SAT’s, finals, college applications, entrance essays, recommendation letters, and relationships, among other things. All of your effort gets spent raising your GPA as high as you possibly can, so that you can get into the school of your choice. However, for me, working my way up in the underground poker world was just as important.
The summer of 2007 was in full swing now, and my junior year of high school had finally ended. By this point, I had accomplished many of the things I had set out to do — I had been accepted into St. John’s University on a scholarship for Computer Science, I was dating Jennifer, my first, true love, my ability as a poker player was finally paying off, and I had strategically maneuvered my way into a regular dealing job at Spades. I was starting to get good enough as a dealer to begin venturing out to other clubs for work.
However, not everything was sunshine and rainbows. My Father was still in jail, and he would remain there for quite some time. My Mother was broke and immensely struggling to pay the bills to support my siblings and me, and I still wasn’t truly happy with my skills as a dealer — I was decent and I could deal a solid game, but I was nowhere near the professional level that would yield the type of money Chris was making.
With my Father out of the picture, I took it upon myself to take on the responsibility of being the provider. My Mother was doing her best to rebuild the business that my Father had decimated, and while she was repairing the damage, I didn’t hesitate to pay the bills that she couldn’t afford. Even though I was only 17, between dealing poker and playing $1/$3 and $2/$5, I was earning about the same amount of money a typical mid 30’s nine-to-fiver was. I paid for summer camp for both my brother and sister, which gave my Mother the opportunity to focus on her business and personal life. This also left me free of babysitting duty.
I was playing poker everyday and dealing the tournaments at Spades three nights a week. When I’d finish work at Spades, I’d then jump into a cash game to try and earn even more. I had a huge advantage over most of the other players — I dealt to them regularly and really got to observe their tendencies which allowed me to figure out how they approached the game.
By mid summer, my live reads on the regulars were so often correct, that it rarely mattered what my holdings were. I knew when they were weak, I knew when they were strong, and I knew who liked to fold and who loved to call down. I was undoubtedly taking full-blown advantage of being a dealer.
I don’t want to overplay how much I was making from playing — I could never have depended solely on my winnings. The majority of my income came from dealing, but I also saw steady financial gain from playing live poker. I was starting to build up a solid bankroll.
By this point, I had almost fully given up the idea of playing online poker seriously, because my Full Tilt account was registered under my Father’s name, and I wasn’t even of legal age to be playing online anyway. I felt it was too great of a risk trying to withdrawal funds while the account owner was incarcerated. Before my Father was sent to jail, I would withdrawal via check and have my Father cash it for me. With him being in jail, this was no longer an option. I was too paranoid to get a bank transfer sent to an account that belonged to a minor.
I would still occasionally play online to keep my theoretical skills sharp and rail the nosebleed games, but would also play heads up with Andy, Chris, and many other poker buddies I met at the underground clubs.
For all of these reasons, I opted to mainly play live poker and focus more on becoming a professional level dealer.
I was starting to get really comfortable working at Spades. I would report to work in professional attire, maintained a diplomatic and professional attitude, and always showed interest in learning more about the business of poker. I was young, but not at all arrogant, and was considered a great employee because I was reliable, always arrived early, and volunteered to do all of the grunt work — take out the trash, restock the fridge, run chips, make ATM runs for players who would bust, drive to the convenience store for special item requests by big action players, you name it. I knew I wasn’t the best dealer, so I made up for it by being valuable in other areas.
By the mid summer, I had locked up my dealing spot at Spades and had become a regular tournament dealer. The guys who dealt cash were always the same, and they had their spots locked up, but when it came to tournaments, the turnover rate was often high. The cash guys didn’t want to deal the tournaments because it wasn’t as lucrative, so Spades would often employ either players or dealers who were in debt. Of course, sometimes the cash dealers were required to deal the tournaments, but they would only start them off — only to open a cash game as soon as the first table would break. For them, they would rather relax and take a break than deal the tournament for an hour and a half.
I was starting to get very comfortable in the box, and I was becoming confident in my skills as a dealer. I was beginning to feel that it was time that I start dealing cash. The problem, however, was that the cash spots were locked up and the management at Spades felt I wasn’t strong enough as a dealer to deal cash. How was I to get better, if I wasn’t allowed to in the first place?
One Saturday afternoon, my phone rings. It’s Vinny.
“Hey Mo. What are you doing? Are you busy?”
“What’s up Vinny? I’m at home relaxing, not busy at all. What’s up?”
“One of the dealers for the $1/$2 game just called out sick, I’m short staffed. I need you to come in and deal cash. You think you can do it?”
I shot up out of my chair. I was lit up with joy. Finally! This was my opportunity to finally get a chance to deal cash.
“Absolutely. I’ll leave my place now. I’ll be there in less than 20 minutes.”
“Great. I knew I could count on you, Mo. See you soon.”
I threw on some fresh clothes and raced over to the club. I sped into the back parking lot, jumped out of my car, and headed inside the club.
When I walked in, Vinny explained the situation, just as he did on the phone.
One of the dealers had called out sick, and he was stuck with only 3 dealers, while two cash tables were running. At Spades, they always had one dealer more than the amount of cash tables running, meaning that someone would always be on break or brush, while the others were in the box.
For two tables running, a standard rotation would be to push into table 1, deal for thirty minutes, get pushed out and push into table 2, then get pushed out and go on break or brush.
If you don’t know, “brush” means to essentially help out with any other duties that might come up. Run chips, let players in and out, take a break, or anything else that might arise.
I was ecstatic. I was finally going to get my shot. Vinny tells me to get ready to go to Table 1 on the push (on the half hour) and I start to mentally prepare. He briefs me with the details about how it’s going to work.
“Okay, Mo. You know the deal. The rake is 10% capped at $10. You can keep all of your tips. Put them in the left-most side of the well. No rabbit hunting, no running it twice, and make sure you count the stub at least twice during your down. Make sure any all-in player pushes all of their chips up into the middle. Call out for chips if a player needs to rebuy.”
“Okay, I got it. Thanks, Vinny.”
Ten minutes goes by and I walk up behind the dealer seated in the box at Table 1. I give him a light tap on his left shoulder, letting him know that I’m there to relieve him, and after the hand concludes, he thanks the players and I take my seat in the box.
I give a familiar nod to the players who I know, say a few hellos, and finally it’s time.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Blinds please.”
I give the deck a wash and deal my first cash hand. I was incredibly nervous for the first orbit or so. My hands were slightly shaking. I was focusing all of my attention on the game, and I didn’t make a single word of conversation other than calling the game and announcing the action. After a few minutes, I settled in to a rhythm and it felt just like I was dealing a tournament.
It was clear to me, and to all of the players seated at the table, that I was obviously new to this. I wasn’t of the same caliber that the other dealers were — but, I was sure as hell trying my best.
During one particular hand, I had dealt a cooler and felted a rather short-fused player. He threw his cards at me and complained to my face, shouting that I was an “awful dealer” and to “hurry the **** up” with the next hand. The winner of the hand, probably as a needle to the loser, tosses me a green-bird and tells me to enjoy the loser’s money. A few players laughed and the player throwing a temper-tantrum shut right up.
I made a valiant effort and continued, and before I knew it, I felt a light tap on my left shoulder. It was time to push into the next table. I grabbed my tips from the well, quickly eyed them for a count, and slipped them into my pocket. I had just made $43, I could surely get used to this.
About 3 and a half hours go by, and Vinny approaches me while I’m on my break.
“You did good today, Mo. You need some work to get better, but overall you got the job done. I got a hold of Matt and he just pulled into the parking lot. He’s going to be finishing up the shift for you. Thanks for helping out on such short notice. I’ll call you again if I need you for cash. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for the Sunday tournament.”
I was a little bummed that it ended so quickly, but still, I was happy that I had been given the opportunity. For 3 hours of dealing, including my breaks, I totaled around $300 in tips. However, I was aware that some of the players were over-tipping me because they knew that it was my first time dealing cash. At that moment, I absolutely knew that I had to start dealing cash.
I was in a great mood, and there was only one thing that could make it even better — sex.
I haven’t talked much about my girlfriend, Jen, up until this point, but as you’ll later on find out, will become an integral part of my story. She was the same age as me, although a few months older, and absolutely gorgeous. She was 5’4, 110lbs, blonde hair with mesmerizing, hypnotic blue eyes, exercised regularly, and had a magnificent ass, and perfect, C-cup breasts. She was the first girl I ever fell in love with. I truly believed that I was going to marry her, I would have done anything for her. I think that all guys fall under that spell with their first love.
She was also the most intelligent person I ever met in my entire life. While she possessed an innate ability for academic excellence, I was the more cunning and clever type. Where she had difficulty reading between the lines, I could always see the bigger picture. She would graduate as the salutatorian and later go on to work for the State Department as an Arabic translator.
Anyway, I decided to leave the club and drive over to Jen’s house. Her parents were away on vacation in The Hamptons, so we had the house to ourselves — perfect.
When I arrived at her house, I told her all about my first cash-dealing experience and how much I had made. She was impressed — kids our age would spend an entire week, working full-day shifts to make this kind of money. I did detect a hint of concern though, as she was aware that what I was doing was illegal.
I told her that I wanted to go out and celebrate, but that we should first work up an appetite.
She was wearing a sky blue blouse that day, so I unbuttoned her shirt, unhinged her bra, and to my surprise, she took the lead. She stood before me, in nothing but silk, pink panties, and pushed me onto her bed. For the next 10 minutes, I was her play toy.
After throwing her sheets into the washing machine, we headed out for a nice dinner at an upscale steak house. We both had fake ID’s, so we enjoyed our meal with a couple glasses of cheap wine. We spent the time during our meal talking about future and what the next year — our senior year — of school might hold for us.
During the drive back to Jen’s house, I began formulating a plan of where I could deal more cash games. I was pretty sure that it wasn’t going to be at Spades, but I did have a few ideas of where I could start. Regardless, I was definitely going to continue dealing the tournaments there, it was my bread and butter — steady and lucrative.
As I pulled up to a red light, my phone rang — it was Chris.
“Dude! What are you up to?! Let’s go to ****ing Turning Stone and crush some poker up there. Whattaya say?”
To be continued…
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Inside Underground NY Poker #9 submitted by Previous:
Inside Underground NY Poker #10
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Spades — 1.10 I had just woken up minutes ago, still not yet home from my first trip to Turning Stone. I had just received an unexpected text from Andy — he said that he wouldn’t be playing at Spades any longer, and to call him as soon as possible. I immediately texted him back.
“What happened? Is everything okay?”
“Are you alone?”
“No, I’m still on my way back from Turning Stone. I’m in the car with my friends.”
“Call me when you’re done.”
An hour or so later, all of my friends have been returned home, except for Theo. We drive to his house and he puts the car into park. I say goodbye, and he makes his way towards his front door, while I hop into my driver’s seat. I take off and instantly give Andy a call.
“Andy, what’s up. I just dropped everyone off. What’s going on?”
“Well, I won’t be playing at Spades anymore. Gonna start playing in Queens again. What I’m about to tell you *has to* stay between us, alright?”
“Of course. What happened? You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but again, this must stay between us. You’re a good kid and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, so I hope you take this piece of advice. You should find a new place to deal. It’s not safe at Spades.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
“How well do you know Matt? Do you guys work together at all?”
“I don’t know him that well. Sometimes he’s working when I deal the tournaments, but for the most part I don’t really know him.”
“Buddy, I’ve known Matt for a long time — you know that. I bailed him out of jail earlier today.”
Andy proceeds to tell me the entire story.
The night before, Matt had been driving home shortly after the game broke at Spades. Unfortunately, he got pulled over while he was riding dirty. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem in suburban Long Island, however, Andy informed me that Matt also had a drug habit.
When the officer who stopped him approached his window, it was crystal clear that Matt wasn’t sober. The officer, doing his due diligence, was no longer interested in simply issuing a ticket. He gave Matt a breathalyzer test — no alcohol was present. The subsequent sobriety test resulted in a failure, giving the officer probable cause to search Matt’s car.
The cop found a bag of prescription pills, which contained enough to reasonably suspect that they were being sold. In addition to the amount of cash found in Matt’s pocket, something to the tune of a few thousand bucks, the officer reasonably came to the conclusion that Matt was a drug dealer. For all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what Matt appeared to be in this situation. He was about to be arrested for some serious charges — felonies — that could ruin his life.
However, Matt vehemently denied the cop’s allegations of any drugs being sold, and said that he could explain the situation. However, he couldn’t provide a reason as to why he had so much cash on him. He was then arrested and brought down to the precinct for questioning.
During Matt’s interrogation, it became quite obvious to him that he was going to get booked for drug distribution charges. In Suffolk County, Long Island, this is no joke. In most cases, it’ll end with you saying goodbye to your freedom.
At first, and this is from Andy’s account of things, Matt tried lying and said that he was simply playing poker at a home game, which was why he had so much cash on him. He confessed that he had a drug problem, but that he wasn’t a drug dealer. The questioning detective didn’t buy his story.
Matt didn’t have a real job that issued W2’s, so there was no sense in trying to lie about it, and he couldn’t provide a phone number for the host of the alleged home game that he was supposedly coming from — an easy and immediate way to prove his claims to be true. The detective wished Matt good luck in court.
In a final and desperate attempt to try and walk away from his predicament as cleanly as possible, Matt played the only card up his sleeve, and offered the truth about the whole situation.
He told the questioning detective that he wasn’t a drug dealer — he just had a drug problem — again, the only consistent part of his story. He revealed that he was driving around so late and had so much cash on him because he worked for an illegal poker club. The detective regained interest in what Matt had to say.
He ultimately wound up coming clean and answering all of the detective’s questions, some of which had certain stipulations attached to them.
In exchange for providing more information about Spades, Matt was ultimately booked for only a measly DUI — a misdemeanor which often resulted in nothing more than an inconsequential fine and rarely probation, if you had a halfway decent lawyer.
In case you don’t know, there is a massive difference between a DWI and a DUI in the county of Suffolk. Judges are incredibly harsh on people who drink and drive, even first time offenders. DUI’s on the hand, which explicitly define a difference between alcohol versus drugs, are not looked upon the same way in the eyes of the judicial system.
In Matt’s case, the detective made sure not to book him with any illegal drug allegations. This meant that a lawyer could easily provide a story of innocence to a judge, that Matt had simply taken a drive to the convenience store, after taking some sleeping medication. The result of this situation would undoubtedly be a measly fine and an ACOD — adjournment in contemplation of dismissal.
In other words, stay out of trouble for a year and all of your charges will be dismissed. Needless to say, a good lawyer is always worth the cost.
Matt spent the rest of the night in the precinct’s holding cell, and was brought to court later on in the morning. Not yet having hired a lawyer, the judge presiding over Matt’s case surprisingly did not grant him OR, short for “Own Recognizance”, which means you get to walk out of the courthouse by simply legally promising to appear in court at a later date.
Judges grant OR depending on a number of factors. Matt didn’t have an existing criminal record, however, he also didn’t have any ties to the community, a history of meaningful employment, or a lawyer to essentially vouch for him, and as a result, the judge set bail on Matt to the amount of $5,000.
This meant that he would be held in the county jail until his designated court date, unless he could pay his own bail with only the cash that he had on him at the time of his arrest.
Matt didn’t actually live in Long Island, he resided in Queens, which meant that he didn’t know anybody in the area who could post his bail for him. At the time your bail is set by the judge, you can usually walk out of there the same day, as long as you are able to have someone post your bail before the court’s end of day time — usually 5PM.
If you can’t get someone to post your bail in time, your situation will become much more complicated. You will be sent to the county jail where you will be searched, stripped of all your clothes, issued a prisoner’s uniform, and assigned either a cell or pod. You’ll stay there until either your court date arrives, or someone posts your bail for you. Nothing about this is process is expedient, whatsoever.
Not wanting to spend any length of time in jail, Matt decided to call the only person he knew who would be in Long Island and also have access to at least $5,000 in cash — that would be Andy.
“So, I bailed him out, which funny enough, left him in debt to me, yet again, for $2k. Although, I made it clear I wasn’t bailing his ass out if he couldn’t immediately pay me back.”
“Holy ****, man. What happened to his car, did the cops impound it?”
“No, actually. They left it on the grass, on the side of the state parkway.”
“How’d you find all of this out? Why would Matt tell you any of this, I don’t get it. Couldn’t he just have told you that he got arrested for a DUI?”
“Absolutely, but then I would wonder why he had to suddenly quit working at Spades, immediately after bailing him out of jail. He couldn’t take the risk of me asking questions.”
“Why would he have to do that? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“It’s too big of a liability for him, now. Buddy, don’t you get it? It’s a 100% chance at this point. An investigation on the club will be conducted, if one wasn’t already being done, which would surprise me if that were the case. It’s only a matter of time now before the cops come in and shut the place down. If that happens when Matt is there, he’ll be arrested.”
“I already know that dealing is illegal. The cops let dealers go, you even said so yourself. You don’t remember? The first time I ever met you, after I told you how old I was — you asked me if I knew that it was illegal to run a game. When I answered “no”, you literally gave me a checklist of things to do, in case I ever found myself in a raid.”
“I remember, and yes, cops *usually* let the dealers go. However, if anything should happen at Spades, it’ll probably be after Matt gets a sentence on his court case. I’ll bet you 10-to-1 for any amount, that he gets at the absolute worst, sentenced to probation. If he gets arrested, it will absolutely end with him getting a jail sentence.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, buddy. There are a ton of other clubs, all over, where he can find another job. And it would be in his best interest to not stick around, especially after narc’ing to the cops. That’s why I’m telling you all of this — find another job, I don’t wanna see you get arrested. You never know, some cop might want to teach you a lesson to stay out of trouble, because you’re so young and caught up in all of this. It wouldn’t surprise me, at all.”
“Can you help me get a dealing job at another club?”
“Yeah, no problem, but it’ll be in Queens. I’ll see what I can do and get back to you. There’s no way I could get you into Fox’s — not yet, anyway. You’ve gotten great at dealing tournaments, but you don’t have enough experience dealing cash.”
“I know. Well, **** man. My mind is blown. I was expecting you to tell me something like you had a disagreement with Vinny, or you wanted to renegotiate your agreement with Gary, or… something like that. Nothing like this.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have told you at all, but… well, you know how I am. There aren’t too many people in the poker community who I actually respect. You’re a smart kid, don’t **** up your future.”
“Well, thanks man. I appreciate you looking out. Please let me know, and get back to me as soon as you can, if you find another place where I can deal.”
“I will. And buddy, one last thing. If you tell anyone about this conversation, I’ll never speak to you again. I trust you. Don’t let me down.” — he says jokingly, yet with authority, in a rather stern tone of voice.
“What conversation?”
“Perfect. Later, buddy.”
I end the phone call, closing my Nokia 6126 flip phone. I begin to think, weighing out my options and trying to come to a decision, in order to formulate some type of plan.
If you were to ask people who know me well, to describe me in one word, the obvious answer would be — cunning. I’ve always considered that to be one of my strengths, to be frank, it has allowed me to capitalize on many of the opportunities that have come my way. I’m an honest person, generally forthcoming when it’s paramount, and take comfort in believing that people are generally good-natured.
Sometimes, the smartest thing to do is to tell people what they want to hear. As Canada Bill Jones once said, “It’s immoral to let a sucker keep his money.” In my paradigm of the world, deceiving someone isn’t even remotely the same as intentionally withholding information or being purposefully vague. Come to think of it, that might be what makes me a decent poker player.
Taking everything Andy had just told me into consideration, I came to a final decision. I was going to continue dealing at Spades, regardless of if he could get me another dealing job somewhere else. If he were to ask me if I had quit, I would respond by saying something like, “Do I look that dumb?”
Dealing at Spades was consistent, lucrative, and simply just too close to where I lived to give up. I did, however, decide to put an end to my ignorance about what I did to make money — cold, hard cash to be exact, that I could earn pretty much anywhere I could find a poker game. A realization that led to my deep appreciation for unmistakably skilled dealers, and floors who possessed vast, intricate knowledge about the rules and procedures of the game.
I did some research on the legality of poker in New York — I wanted to be certain of any and all legal consequences that were attached to running a game. I scoured the internet for everything I could find in order to educate myself. I even had a serious conversation with Jennifer’s father, a successful lawyer, who made a few personal calls and got me in touch with a colleague of his. That was how I met Rich.
Rich was a young, yet successful criminal attorney who practiced law in New York City. He was in his late 30’s and always wore an expensive suit — a bit of a hefty guy, prominently intelligent, articulate, and was way better at poker than I was. He was on Andy’s level, without question. When I first met him, one of the first things he told me about himself was that he was able to pay his bills, shortly after graduating law school, by playing in underground clubs.
I know, it’s incredibly cliche. However, back in 2007, if a reg in a Manhattan-based club was a lawyer in their mid to late 30’s, it would actually be surprising to find out that they *didn’t* pay their law school tuition, student loans, or bills by playing poker. In other words, back then, any winning reg that practiced law and was of the right age, most likely adhered to the stereotype. You’d be surprised to know how many young law students were inspired by the movie Rounders.
Rich and I would later on become poker buddies, and play in a ton of different games together. More relevantly, he was someone who would always show up and play in a new game to help me out — something that facilitated the acquisition of many of my dealing jobs.
No pun intended, Rich had money and played stakes as high as $25/$50 NL regularly. He played in bigger games actually, but, was only comfortable playing up to $25/$50 in private or underground games. For him, anything bigger required playing in a casino.
My first conversation with Rich would take place over the phone. Jennifer’s father set everything up and made it *very* clear to call him on a specific date, at a very specific time. I would be getting free legal advice, as a favor, and I was not to waste this man’s time.
“Hello, this is Rich. Is this Julius?”
“Yes, Hi. Thank you for taking my call, I really appreciate your time. I won’t take up too much of it.”
“Not a problem, whatsoever. I’ve been informed that you are looking for legal advisement in the scope of poker games. Is that correct?”
“Yeah. To be clear, these poker games are not friendly home games. They are ran as businesses and located in commercial areas.”
“I see. Are you a player?”
“Well, yeah. But, I’m also a dealer. I make money in the form of tips, from dealing the game. The players who win a hand will usually give me a few dollars after every hand. And — ”
“Julius, let me stop you right there. Are you familiar with the Mayfair Club?”
“Of course.”
“I used to play there regularly. You’re preaching to the choir. I’m well aware of how these games operate, and fortunately for you, also experienced in the legal affairs that can manifest from them.”
“Wow, a real life one-outer. What are the odds? So then, can you tell me what kind of consequences I could face from dealing?”
“Do you have a criminal record?”
“No, I’ve never been in trouble with the law before. I’ll be 18 very soon, if that means anything.”
“Pardon me, you’re 17 years old?”
“Yes, sir.” — I tell him about my family, my grandmother, hosting tournaments at my house, essentially rationalizing why my age is not a big deal.
“Interesting. How long have you been dealing?”
“Not too long. Less than a year, but I don’t see myself slowing down anytime soon.”
“I see. Where do you deal?”
“At a club called Spades in Long Island. I deal the tournaments, three times per week.”
“Spades? No kidding. I know all about Spades. I play there whenever I visit my parents on the island. As you put it, what are the odds?”
“Yeah, well, a friend of mine who plays for a living is trying to get me another dealing job in Queens. I feel like I might be putting myself at more of a risk, that’s why I needed to talk to you.”
“I understand. Well, let me educate you about the law. In the state of New York, it is completely legal to play poker. You and I could set up a table in the middle of Times Square and play heads up. Inherently, playing poker isn’t the issue. The concern arises when someone starts profiting off of the game by taking rake. That individual is the one who is breaking the law, and can be charged with the promotion of gambling to various degrees, all of which can result in different consequences. It’s important that I point out that keeping a credit book is also illegal, in which you can be charged with the possession of gambling records. You don’t run the floor at all, do you?”
“No, not yet.”
“Not yet. I admire your ambition. Well, that’s a good thing. That means your legal risk is minimal.”
“So then, I’m not breaking the law because I don’t get any of the rake, right?”
“No, not exactly. The legal verbiage used, in the New York State Penal Code, to describe what actually constitutes the promotion of gambling is incredibly vague. However, legal precedents have been established that demonstrate that the court is more than willing to charge you with a crime, even if you never see the literal “profits” of the game. It’s uncommon, but it can certainly happen. For example, if the landlord of a rental property that houses a game was aware that it was being used for illegal gambling activity, they would certainly be in violation of the law. Even if the landlord only collected rent from their tenant, it would still be considered as profiting from the game. It’s very difficult to prove, but nevertheless still illegal.”
“I gotcha. So, receiving tips from the players is illegal and puts me at risk.”
“Correct. To be exact, it puts you at risk of being charged with the promotion of gambling in the second degree, a misdemeanor that carries a maximum sentence of up to one year in jail. It’s worth mentioning that the law doesn’t care if you’re a first time offender, or if you have no existing criminal record — anyone who gets charged can receive that sentence. In reality, it’s *extremely* rare to receive a jail sentence for that charge, but it’s still possible. I’m not trying to scare you, however, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I were to leave anything unclear.”
“Wow. How often do people go to jail for this?”
“Almost never. As I said, it’s extremely rare. The police will usually let the dealers go free, if that is, in fact, the complete extent of their involvement. What usually happens, if you even make it to this stage of the judicial system, is that you’ll receive a fine and be on your way. Even repeat offenders usually just get another fine. If you receive a cut of the rake, but are caught dealing at the time of your arrest, then it’s a different story. I’m not going to go over that scenario, because you told me that you don’t get any of the rake, correct?”
“Right. Okay, then. So, to be clear — at the absolute worst, I could go to jail for a year.”
“Yes, at the absolute worst. However, I can’t imagine a situation that ends with someone like you going to jail for this. You’re a minor, you have a clean record, and I suspect that the police would just let you go and call your parents, rather than arresting you. I’m just speculating about that, to be clear. Even if you were to get arrested, I’m all but certain that the police would still let you go. Any decent attorney could demonstrate that you’re a minor being used as a tool, by a conniving adult who is taking advantage of you.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m a victim?”
“I’m saying that that’s the way you would be seen in the eyes of the court, which is why you’ll most likely be let go, should you even get arrested.”
“Ah, okay. I see. Well, Rich, I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to help me. You’ve given me some peace of mind. I really appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, Julius. I would have told you all of this at the table, had you been my dealer.”
“Oh, you still play?”
“Absolutely. Currently, twice a week in Midtown. Why don’t you take down my personal cell number? If you actually find yourself in need of a lawyer for anything poker related, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Awesome. Thanks, Rich. Before I let you go, do you play online?”
“To be completely candid, I actually have Full Tilt running on my laptop, as we speak. I’ll usually sit at a couple of tables while I eat my lunch. Nothing serious.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Not in the slightest.”
The conversation went on for a while longer. We talked more about poker, the underground community, and exchanged Full Tilt usernames. The conversation ended with Rich asking me if I could bring him to Spades, the next time he was on the island. The club was in a different location when he had last come around to play.
Rich actually did have Full Tilt opened in the background during our conversation. He had arranged for me to call him during his lunch break, which was when he would keep a few tables open, and play only if he happened to pick up Aces or Kings.
Now that I was well informed about the legal risks I was taking, I felt very confident about sticking to my decision. I was sure now, I wasn’t going to give up my job at Spades.
Almost a month later at the club, on a warm, weekday evening, I was sitting in a cash game during the break of the tournament. It was remarkably busy that night, and there were a lot of new faces playing. Every week was busier than the last.
When I had arrived at the club to setup, Vinny had asked me if I would be okay with getting bought into the cash game instead of working. He explained that he needed someone to deal in order to work off a debt that they owed. I told him it was fine — I’d get to take a night off while freerolling in a cash game.
Shortly after the break ended, I hear Vinny yelling at the entire room.
“HEY! YO! WHO IS THAT GUY HOLDING THE DOOR OPEN ON THE SECURITY MONITORS? LOOK! DOES ANYBODY HERE KNOW WHO THAT IS?” — pointing to the flatscreen that displayed the security camera feeds.
All of the players were looking around at each other, but nobody answered.
“****!”
Vinny makes a bolt for the steel door, closes it behind him, and begins running down the stairs to stop this unknown guy from holding the door open any longer.
The entire room is watching this happen in live action, on the security monitor. Each of the four sections on the screen displayed a feed from a different camera.
Just as Vinny reached the bottom of the stairs, a line of a dozen or so SWAT officers appears on the bottom left section of the monitor. The officer at the front of the line is carrying a bulletproof shield, they all have helmets on, and it’s clear that they are well-prepared for action.
We all watch as Vinny collides into the SWAT team, face first, only to get MOWED down by the entire line. He got pummeled — it looked painful.
SWAT makes its way up the stairs and over to the steel door.
*BOOM* — A loud bang is coming from the steel door, as a huge dent appears simultaneously.
*BOOM* — The door becomes bent in half now.
*BOOM* — The steel door violently swings open, and pieces of the wall fly off into the air.
About 12 or so SWAT officers flow into the club. As the sound of their boots hitting the wood floor fills the silence of the room, they begin to draw their rifles on each table, making sure that everybody is surrounded.
“NOBODY ****ING MOVE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR! DO IT NOW!”
To be continued…
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Inside Underground NY Poker #12 submitted by Is there any hope that live (cardhouses maybe) or online poker will be legal in the NY Metro area?(ie: NYC, any of the burroughs, Long Island, Westchester)
Yes I know there are some casinos a bit upstate, just curious if anyone thinks this could ever happen or has any knowledge since the trend of legalized sports gambling seems to be moving that way.
submitted by Legal Age To Play Poker Online In New York To play poker in New York, bettors will need to be at least 18 years old. This will hold true at both land-based poker rooms and online poker rooms accepting residents from New York. It's often up to the sportsbook to determine their minimum age requirements. Although laws are saying gaming is legal only in several states, there have been no arrests or cases so far. Even in Washington state where playing poker is considered a criminal offence. Overall, it is safe to participate in video poker online being everywhere in country. Though it's advised to get acquainted with local laws before. How to play poker online for money. Researchers say that ... Online poker providers in New Jersey have been thriving since Gov. Chris Christie signed a bill into law back in 2013 that allowed the popular card game to be played online legally. New Jersey followed Nevada and Delaware to become only the third US state to introduce legal and regulated online poker sites. When it was finally legalized back in October 2013, five partnerships quickly emerged ... Is online poker legal in New York? No, not at present, although NY lawmakers continue to work toward that possibility. NY online poker is hampered by current law that includes poker among its list of prohibited games of chance. The state’s constitution only allows a few exceptions for poker, including at regulated commercial casinos. Legal online poker in New York. Even though it missed the boat again in 2019, New York remains a serious contender for online poker legalization. Legalization could make the Empire State the sixth — following New Jersey, Nevada, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia — to legalize online poker. Some believe the changing landscape for gambling expansion could help push New York to the finish line in the near future. Is it legal to play poker online in NY? Currently, there are no legal operating online NY online poker sites at this time. The legislation is pending and it is believed that poker sites and online casinos will start to become available in the state of New York starting in 2019. We do not have ant site names at this time. The current state of online poker in New York is that it’s actually considered to be quite the illegal operation. This falls in line with the legality of online casino gaming, which is also considered not to be a legal activity according to the laws of the State of New York and wording of same (Article 225 of the New York Penal Law). Currently, NY online poker rooms have still not been given the green light by the state law. Thankfully, lawmakers are reviewing the laws to see whether things can change for the better. With the strides that are in process to try and amend the law, we think that NY online poker will be legal in the near future. As a New Yorker, you will enjoy numerous poker tournaments and a range of variants once NY online poker rooms start operating freely. So far poker seems to have the most potential in reaching legal status with a potential online gambling offering in the state. This page was created to provide NY residents and visitors with insight into the state’s legal poker options. We will discuss both New York online poker and the land based options that are available. We will provide ... The illegality of poker games in New York State, and its classification in the state as a game of chance, was challenged by the arrest of Lawrence DiCristina in 2011 for operating an illegal poker game in Staten Island. In 2012, judge Jack B. Weinstein ruled poker to be the game of skill, opening the door for online poker legislation in New York