Selling Tickets at the OTB - October 2005

Selling betting tickets at the OTB (October 2005)

There are three types of betters
that come to my window
As I take bets for the day’s races,
which are shown on numerous large screens throughout the building:
There is the Professional better –
who always does research on the upcoming races
and always knows when to call it a day
and always plans for the next day
They sometimes smile
They rarely talk
They just go about their business
There are The Recreational betters –
who go into the day with a set amount of cash they plan to bet
and, generally, stays within that limit
They smile, they drink, they generally are looking to have fun
This group is augmented by the old-timers;
The older gentlemen who still dress nice when they go out
And the women who still wear hats and gloves
Just like they did in the 40s and 50s
when they visited Aquaduct
And then there is The Desperate –
those are the ones who are alternately entertaining and pathetic
Each Desperate better has a tale of woe
Like, “I was mad at myself yesterdayI picked the 4-6 at Philly
Even though the 4 was 50-1
But the friggin teller couldn’t get the bet in on time(It’s always the teller’s fault – never theirs)
And I was shut-out of a $15,000 payday!”
Most tellers just nod along to these stories
(although they usually wish they could just nod off!)
The Desperate also have stories of grand insightful victories,
Like, “I had the pick-6 at Belmont last month,
Made $106,000,
But hell, it’s only money.”
The “it’s only money” line is unpacked and delivered in arrogant tones
whenever they win and have money.
(Then they hold court with theirfellow-Desperate-losers
Talking about how they know the horse… or the jockey...)
When the Desperate betters don’t win
They have no lines
Just a look of desperation,
and the longing to be cool and smart like the Professional gambler,
Or relaxed and fun-loving like the Recreational gambler.
But they can’t look like either.
They can only look like what they are.
They start the day
Peeling money off a roll
And most times
They end the day paying for one and two dollar bets with coins
All while stinking of piss, BO and booze
Place the bet and stand in place with yourfellow-Desperates
And when the race starts, you start
“Five
Come on 5
COME ON 5
What the fuck are you doing?
Come on
COME ON
go, Go, GO
Watch that 7 behind you…SHIT!
What are you doing to me? (like it’s personal…)”
Hey, I got a hint for you
It’s a horse on a screen
The horse can’t hear you
Neither can the jockey
They are the lucky ones
They can’t hear you
Just like I wish I couldn’t