Saturday night poker. It was Norm who hosted these things, but given his unspecified underlying condition, he had decided to suspend our weekly ritual until such time as the local public health unit declared it safe to hold in-person gatherings. Nearly eighteen months had passed before he phoned and said he felt comfortable sitting with five others around a felt-topped table in a close room. On the side, a couple of us speculated about the nature of Norm’s underlying condition. We doubted it was respiratory given Norm’s custom of puffing on a fat stogie from one end of the evening to the other. Had it been fear of respiratory complications that prompted Norm to cancel his weekly games, he wouldn’t have answered the door, as he did tonight, in a haze of smoke. That would have made him a hypocrite and Norm was too principled a man for that. So, for the first time since the pandemic began, six of us gathered for a night of stud poker, all while knocking back shots of whisky in our own strange communion while cigar smoke settled over us like the tailings of an old censer lately swung through our holy chapel.
Aubrey got the first black jack, so she began to deal while the rest of us ante’d up. I wouldn’t call this a high stakes game. But it wasn’t a penny ante proposition either. It sat somewhere in the middle as did its players. Our host, Norm, was a retired history teacher and his wife, Hanna, was librarian at the school where Norm had taught for years. In fact, that’s how they met. Norm had presented himself at the counter, asking if the library had a copy of Jack Layton’s book, and it was love at first sight. Together, they had retired to healthy pensions, active in their respective unions, and remained relatively unaffected by whatever financial strains the pandemic had imposed on others.
By contrast, there was Aubrey’s husband, Sergei, who worked in a meat packing plant and, when things were at there very worst, was deemed an essential worker. It sounded noble, but really it was just another way of saying expendable. He tried to wear a mask at work, but the mask kept slipping below his nose. Inevitably, a sick co-worker who couldn’t afford to take time off infected Sergei who came home and, in turn, infected Aubrey. Both were miserable, but never so badly off that they had to go to the hospital. Even so, they were both too sick to work and lost their jobs. When she recovered, Aubrey found a new job soon enough. But Sergei’s was a case of long Covid and he had such aches and pains and feelings of malaise that he still struggled to get out of bed in the morning. That’s why he hadn’t joined them this evening.
In Sergei’s place, Norm invited an old buddy from university days named Grant who, in before times, had been a sports writer for a national news organization. Sports writing of course had dried up during the pandemic, so they shifted Grant to medical reporting since there were so many breaking stories about the WHO and the SARS-CoV-2 virus and vaccine development and conspiracy theories. It wasn’t as much of a stretch from sports to medicine as you might think. Grant used to write all the time about concussions and soft tissue injuries and doping, so he already knew some of the medical lingo. Most importantly, it meant he went blithely along without a blip in his personal income and since he could do much of his work from home, his employer was grateful for the savings and gave him perks along the way.
Finally, there was Janice, younger than the rest, someone Hanna had met while shopping for clothes at a leisure wear store. The pandemic had been hard on retail and Janice’s employer had boarded up the windows when the government first declared an emergency. They promised that her job would be waiting for her when things opened up again but, in the meantime, they couldn’t afford to keep her on the payroll. As a gesture of goodwill, they helped her file her application for the government handout. It wasn’t enough to pay all the bills, but with the occasional cheque from her parents, she’d survived. She shared with everyone that she was hoping this evening to win enough to cover next month’s rent.
It was a good evening and the time vanished in a fog of whisky and smoke. We enjoyed catching up with old friends and getting to know the newcomers. We told stupid jokes. And we shared our unique stories of life in the time of Covid. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, we decided to bring the game to a close with an all-in hand. Grant and Aubrey were already tapped out so there were only four of us in the final hand. In a strange piece of good luck, I took the kitty with a pair of sevens. I reached into the centre, but before I could draw all the chips to my corner of the table, Norm wagged a raised finger as if I had done something naughty. I saw in Norm’s expression something of the teacher he used to be: he had caught me doing something I shouldn’t and he was going to send me to the principal’s office.
Not so fast, Dave, he said.
I withdrew my hands, unsure what to make of Norm’s wagging finger.
These past months, I’ve had a lot of time to think about our poker games, and I’ve decided we should do things differently. Sure, this pandemic has been tough, but if all we do is talk about how tough it’s been, then we miss the opportunities it’s given us. We can build back better, you know. Even when it comes to poker games. So I’m proposing a reset here.
I eyed the pile of chips waiting for me in the centre of the table and thought about how that would translate into a couple of bottles of really good Bordeaux wine.
Aubrey asked Norm what he had in mind.
Well, I was thinking: no more winner take all. The fact is, Hanna and I, we’re all right, and Dave there, well, financially he’s okay too. I don’t know about you, Grant, but you give the impression you have a good income. So I’m thinking we should split the kitty between Aubrey and Janice. To each according to their need. That’s how I’d like to do things from now on.
As you might expect, I objected to Norm’s idea. It didn’t seem natural. It sucked all the fun out of poker night.
Norm gave me his sternest look. Fun? You didn’t have any fun tonight? Laughing with friends? Catching up? Good drinks? Good company? That didn’t do it for you? Not until you could take everyone’s money, too?
But those are the rules, I whined.
And I say: Fuck the rules. It’s time for a reset.
Christ, I said. Those World Economic Forum types have really sunk their teeth into you, haven’t they?
I could’ve stood on my rights and demanded the kitty, but the whole evening had faded into a fog of whisky and cigar smoke and didn’t feel real. I’d wake up in the morning with fuzz on my tongue and a dull ache behind my eyes, and maybe I’d have more cash in my pocket or maybe not, but whatever Norm said, at least I’d have the satisfaction of knowing, in my deepest truest self, that I’d played a better game of poker than the rest of them. It’s not how you play the game. It’s whether you win or lose.
