I won three, two-packs of resistors

When I was 18 I worked for Radio Shack, to the surprise of exactly nobody who's ever met me. I was the kid who took it upon himself to memorize the part number of everything in the store, where everything is, what it did, and how much I got paid for selling it.

It was in the pursuit of this exercise that I discovered the least expensive item in the joint: a two-pack of resistors, the least expensive of which cost exactly nineteen cents. Customers used to walk up to the counter with a solitary blister pack of resistors and a quarter, and would actually apologize for the smallness of the transaction.

We always said the same thing when this happened: A smile as the quarter crossed my palm and the phrase "Sir, we count them all." It came to represent our philosophy about customer service and how to properly show gratitude for a customer's business; but mostly it gave us something to say other than "why don't you make it worth my while to hand-write this receipt, you cheap fuck. I'm guessing you want your free fucking battery?"

The reason for that tale is this: Tonight I played in Survivor Poker's Donkey Island Event #9. It was a multi-entry, I could have signed up as many as four times, but I only signed up twice. I was actually doing quite well with both entries, until my pocket aces were cracked by (I think) Hoyazo, who connected with his 10's for a set. After that it was all attention paid to my last remaining entry.

Towards the end of the tourney my cards were so bad that I could do little more than keep my head above water and watch as people swung mightily with their stacks. Those who missed fell by the wayside and I ended up making the final table.

I was short stacked and needed to pee, and was raised by NY Rambler. Now I have nothing against the fellow but the fact is that his range for hands in the circumstance we were in was as wide as the Massachusetts Turnpike. I had QK suited, and almost no chips. I went in. Eight seconds later, I went out.

I cashed $11.62. Minus $10 for the entry, and $1 for the house, and my profit for just short of three hours of poker was sixty-two cents.

No, it's not a lot. But as Joanada said, it beats a sharp stick to the eye, which is true. The bottom line is, this adjustment I've made and have been discussing ad friggin nauseum, changed this game from an $11 loser to a tiny winner, and that's a damn good thing.

And anyway, like we used to say when they'd buy a two-pack of resistors, we count them all.

Until next time, please remember that sixty-two cents is indeed better than a sharp stick to they eye - or anywhere on the body for that matter.