A shortened part deux

OK, so the next part of the story has been a while in the making. Let me try finish it in the most succinct way possible. The majority of my work involves sales. Now probably the first word that springs to mind when I say "sales" is "sleazy" or "immoral" or "corrupt". OK, well perhaps it's the third or fourth word. My point is that sales has a reputation for being disreputable. This is largely undeserved; as usual it is the terrible acts of a few that forms the opinion of the many.

For nearly a year I managed to become not only a good salesman, but one with his morals intact. That changed in the course of a day. A client had an issue that was not easily resolved. My manager and director made unusual amendments to the service we provide which conveniently solved the client's issue, re-assuring both myself and the client that these amendments were set in stone. The client signed the contract, sent over a large deposit in good faith, and a course was set for a strong relationship to be built. A sinking feeling in my stomach perhaps served as a forewarning that this relationship would never take place. I ignored it - my internal alarm clock - and it came back to haunt me.


Part three coming......in the meantime have a great long weekend!

a heading of NW by SE

I recently had reason to remove my moral compass from storage. Caked in a layer of dust, languishing unused in a dark corner of my brain, I found the rusty instrument, once buffed and polished to a shine, nearly illegible. When I finally brought myself to look at it, I realized with a pang that I had lost my way.

Let me preface this story by saying that I believe myself to be a highly principled person with a deep-rooted sense of right and wrong, good and bad. Sometimes I think this is to my detriment - there are times when you need to break the rules, you need to play outside your comfort zone, and involving yourself may require indulging in small improprieties that set your internal alarm off. My theory is that the sensitivity of this internal alarm, and your reaction to it, determine your moral code.

I've just realized this is way too philosophical for an early Saturday morning, and I am way too tired to finish this right now. I promise there is a meaning to all this, it'll just have to wait.

g'nite.

Why I am quitting online poker (for now ;)

A while back I played poker continually. I wasn't working, and my skills (so called) at the poker table brought me some income. But it also took over my life. My journey to the online gambling den began innocently enough. I deposited $25 and played limit hold'em. I was infatuated. I lost it in 1 hour. Six months later, after playing home games and reading a few books, I tested the water again with $25. I lost it in 3 days playing limit hold'em again. But it was fun. Cut to a year later and my work buddies are entering the burgeoning online poker world with mixed results. I had taught them how to play and their successes made my eventual return that much more inevitable. So I tried again with another $25. Within a month, after experimenting with pot limit omaha, my bankroll was at $150. Three months later it was at $600, and after playing very low stakes I now start to consider that perhaps I am a cut above the riff-raff that fill the virtual seats beside me. And I went to higher stakes.

After work ended, I started to play full time, never realizing of course that I was playing "full time". It consumed my thoughts virtually 24 hrs a day. I couldn't stop thinking of hands that I'd lost, hands I should've won but didn't, and hands I shouldn't have won but did. It's funny but I never considered myself to have an addictive personality. Never had that problem with alcohol or drugs. But there were times when I would play until sunrise, never once thinking it abnormal. I was successful online; certain months I made what many would consider a great take-home income. I played higher stakes and experienced wider swings. I remember quite vividly to this day a $750 pot that I played with 2 others; all the money went in on the turn with myself having the best hand and the best draw. I lost. To a player, my nemesis if you will, that I played with often and who often got lucky to beat me. That he won the pot with a terrible hand almost drove me insane. Picture smoke and train whistles.

I became consumed with poker. When I start playing it is if a cloud shifts over my brain, heightening emotions, intensifying my concentration. The outside world stops - friends would call during my "sessions" and a few minutes after replacing the phone I would have no recollection of the conversation. Hours and months flew by. Searching for a job was simply not a priority. It was all about the next win.

Eventually I grew bored and tired of the rollercoaster of emotions. Mainly I didn't like how angry I would become after taking a horrible beat. It made me angrier than I've ever been. I didn't like the feeling that overcame me at times, when it felt as if I was compelled to play. Like I didn't have a choice. So I stopped. I withdrew my money. When all was said and done I had made an amazing amount of money, considering I started with $25. A chip and a chair as they say. I didn't play for almost 6 months.

I started again recently. While my account had $0, I had frequent player points (those bastards know how to hook you). I used these points to enter a tournament, and placed in the money. I ran those winnings to almost $1000 over a few months, playing an hour or two after work and then on weekends. The last couple of weeks I have played more and more often, until today, where I realized the similar path it was taking me. Again, the frustration and elation, the joy and pain. Ignoring the important things and concentrating on the trivial. Speaking more to virtual players online than my family. SO, I am done. I am emptying my account. My name is Marto and I was an addict.