Here are some stories from our dealers AL, and BOB. Al works at 11 am every day, and Bob is on the 1pm shift. (Of course, these are not their real names; they're actually composites of a dozen or so dealers with various experiences.)

Ok. So its not all excitement all the time. Some of wsop dealing is just plain boring. The fact is, there are about 285 poker tables (not sure of the exact number,) about 110 in Pavillion room and the remainder in the Amazon room. Going to work sometimes means walking into the room of 100+ tables, but you are looking at 6 or 7 tables where you will stay for the whole day. Occasionally, it feels like a grind. You really have to love poker to look forward to it every day (or at least 6 days a week.)

10:44 am. Bob arrives, parks in the far lot, but still a fairly short walk. At the back corner of the Rio, dealers sit and line up in front of the time clock. Can't clock in until 10:53. So time to talk. Bad-beat from last night (playing,) stiffs from yesterday (dealing in cash games,) lost a couple hundred (craps.) Most dealers are poker players, or gamblers in general. Not surprising.

After clocking in, the queue strolls past the Amazon room, full of tables, but absent any people. Through one door, you can see the back workings of the “Thunderdome,” the feature table that will eventually host the final table, 10 players down to the November 9. Its got stadium seating, and these weird blue lights, cameras, and a couple miles of thick black cables that stream across the hallway and out the back of the Rio... Dealers end up in the break room, where there is a short buffet of like 6 hotel pans, a 6-foot long salad bar, and soda array. Behind the buffet is a solo food-service worker, and a styrofoam plate atop the buffet shelf with a lonely dollar - seed money for his tips... The food could be one of the best things about the job. No, the food is not good, but the price is right. Breakfast before noon, then lunch. I swear they had “Thanksgiving Dinner” a dozen times: Extruded turkey product, sliced, in light gravy, gluey stuffing, bland mashed potatoes and oddly respectable vegetables. 2 or 3 salt packets and some red-hot sauce later and this stuff is delicious. (I finally did complain about the repeated turkey barrage, to which one female dealer chided me about starving dealers in china, or something, and how lucky I should feel. I told her to give me an envelope and I would send them some.)

Past the food area is about 200 chairs arount big round tables, under the high ceiling with concrete and conduits that feels like a warehouse; the break room is a storage area during the rest of the year, perhaps for WSOP stuff. So, a room full of black pants and vests with white shirts underneath await orders from the front podium – Penguins... The DC (dealer-coordinator) steps up, and blares 'hello' over a tinny PA system to faint response. She starts with announcements. (There are about 6 DC's for the 850 dealers, and they send the dealers where they're needed.) Now is the time for the DC's to vent a bit: “PEOPLE! Just a reminder! You can NOT eat here on your day off.” The crowd chuckles, but everyone knows plenty of dealers have tried it, and would keep on doing it. Some dealers are local to Las Vegas, and some travel the country dealing events and living in hotel rooms. Even local dealers may depend on the WSOP for a giant part of their annual income. Several dealers I talked to work only at the series, then collect unemployment insurance for the rest of the year.

DC's have an abrupt way of treating dealers, which stems from the fact that a handful of dealers do stupid stuff on a regular basis. The result is uniform treatment for a majority of dealers. The relationship is a bit like baby-sitter/baby. But if you're an adult self-respecting dealer, the condescention can wear thin.

Next time: assignments