7 come 11

I couldn't resist sharing a short conversation I witnessed between two of my coworkers yesterday. This was taking place over one of those scratch-and-win prizes that came with a to-go lunch order. You know the ones, where if you scratch something that wins, you get the prize on the card.

Enter, brilliance:

#1: I never win these things.

#2: Maybe this time you will.

#1: (scratching) Okay, I got a 9, a J, a J, a 9, and a J. What does that mean?

#2: That's a full house! That's good!

#1: Oh! That's good?

#2: Go ahead and scrach off the dealer's hand to see if you won!

#1: He'll probably get 21. I always lose at these games.

#2: (didn't catch it)

me: (Actually, I didn't say a word. I did hit my head against the doorframe to keep from laughing at them.)

***

The Hater: (After I told him this story last night, he was more concerned about what the dealer had and if the full house had held. I explained to him that wasn't an important part of this story. But he insisted, so if you, too, are equally upset, we'll pretend that the full house beat the dealer, who had a string of diamonds to the Q. And if you're even more upset that you don't know what she won, we'll pretend it was a lifetime supply of napkins and straws.)