I Played 1,000 Hours of Poker and Made $10. Is It Time to Go Pro?

So You Want to Be a Poker Pro?

It’s the question that flickers in the back of every serious amateur’s mind. You’ve studied the charts, you’ve put in the hours, and you’re starting to feel like you have a real edge. The dream of setting your own hours and making a living from a game you love is intoxicating. One player recently shared their journey, a path paved with an almost superhuman level of dedication: 1,000 hours of play over 307 sessions. That's more than a part-time job. It's a serious commitment.

After all that time, all that mental energy, what was the grand total? A profit of $10.01. Enough for a couple of tacos, as one person cheekily pointed out. The player's tongue-in-cheek question—'Should I quit my job?'—sent ripples of laughter and knowing nods through the community. Because, honestly, anyone who has ever taken this game seriously gets it. They really, really get it.

The New Badge of Honor: Breaking Even

Here’s the wild part. The overwhelming response wasn’t ridicule, but a strange form of congratulations. Comment after comment echoed the same sentiment: 'Congrats, you're better than 90% of this sub.' It sounds like a backhanded compliment, but it’s one of the most honest truths in the world of recreational poker. Most people who play this game lose money. Period. They might not track it, or they might conveniently forget the losing sessions, but the casino isn't built on winners.

So, to grind for 1,000 hours and come out positive—even by a measly ten bucks—is, in a weird way, a monumental achievement. It means you’ve fought off the variance, the bad beats, and the legions of other hopefuls to a standstill.

You haven’t lost. As another player joked, 'I've never lost the Super Bowl,' highlighting the absurdity of claiming to be a winner by simply not playing. This player, however, did play. A lot. And they survived.

Your Toughest Opponent Isn't at the Table

So how can someone play for that long, be good enough not to lose, and still make less than minimum wage? The answer is simple and brutal: the rake. The house always gets its cut. In cash games, a percentage of almost every pot is raked by the casino. An $8 drop per hand was mentioned, which is a significant hurdle.

Let me explain. If you’re playing against eight other people and you’re slightly better than all of them, you should be a winning player. But you’re not just playing against them; you’re playing against the rake. Breaking even means you were actually beating the other players, but every small pot you won got shaved down. All those small victories just ended up paying for the lights and the dealer.

As one commenter perfectly stated, 'He never even lost to players though. He broke even and lost to rake.'

It's a soul-crushing reality for anyone trying to move up in stakes. You have to be good enough to beat the players and the house vig.

The Siren Song of the Tournament 'Bink'

Digging a little deeper into this player's story reveals another classic poker narrative. That $10 profit wasn’t a smooth, steady line. The player admitted to a massive $7,600 tournament score earlier in the year. A life-changing win for any amateur! But what happened next? The worst month of their life, a -$4,200 downswing. That one tournament 'bink' basically subsidized the entire year of cash game grinding.

This highlights the massive difference between tournament poker and cash games. Tournaments are high-variance lottery tickets. You can win big, and that one score can make you look like a poker god on paper. But cash games are the day-in, day-out grind. They are a much truer measure of consistent skill. Without that one lucky tournament, this player’s 1,000-hour journey would have ended deep in the red. It’s a sobering reminder that one big score doesn’t necessarily make you a profitable player in the long run.

The Real Question: Was It Worth It?

So, should they quit their job? Of course not, and that was the whole point. The more interesting question, raised by a few thoughtful people in the discussion, is whether the grind is even worth it as a hobby.

Think about it: 307 sessions in less than a year means playing more often than not. One person pointed out that it's essentially working two jobs, a recipe for burnout. Is the enjoyment still there? If you view poker as a hobby, then coming out with a $10 profit after 1,000 hours of entertainment is an incredible deal. As someone noted, a Netflix subscription would have cost you way more. Most hobbies—golf, skiing, collecting—are just money pits. A hobby that pays for itself is a dream.

But when a hobby starts to feel like a second job with a one-cent-per-hour wage, you have to ask yourself what you’re getting out of it. The answer probably isn’t money. It’s the challenge, the community, and the stories you collect along the way.

Before you ever consider 'going pro,' the wisest advice offered was this: survive several months of a downswing and still have a bankroll left. That’s the real test. Not a spreadsheet showing a tiny profit, but the resilience to weather the storms that are guaranteed to come.

Ultimately, this player's journey is the perfect snapshot of the modern poker dream. It's not the glamorous televised final tables. It's a grueling, mentally taxing grind against other decent players and an unbeatable house edge, all for the hope of ending up slightly better than broke. And for some reason, we love it.