Tag Tips

Hey Buddy, Gotta Hot Tip?

Michael Leave a comment

“Just pick a name you like.”  That’s sage advice from She of We that spans the sporting world from the NCAA March Madness to the World Series.  Last week we discovered it works at the track also.

Our track is a harness track, not world famous but not completely unknown.  In harness racing, standardbred horses (not thoroughbreds) pull sulkies piloted by drivers (don’t call them jockeys) at either a pace or a trot from a rolling start (not from a gate).  Ours is 5/8 mile track around which a horse paces or trots but hopefully never gallops 1.6 times to make a one mile race.  And most of them finish up faster than 2 minutes.  Not a bad time for a big horse pulling a stripped down cart with a 160 pound driver pulling back on the reins most of the way around to keep the big guy in stride.  If you haven’t seen one, type in “Harness Racing” in some search engine.  There must be plenty of videos out there.

Naturally, where there are horses there will be gambling.  With gambling there will be official programs, unofficial programs, tip sheets, systems, and hunches.  But we had something else.  We had a former owner with us.

We should explain that we in this instance were more than just He and She of We.  We also had both Sons of She, Daughter and Guest of He, Sisters of He, Friends of Sons of She, all gathered to commemorate the anniversary of the birth of Son Number One of She who had selected this very venue as his celebration site.  We all sat at the rail just a foot or two beyond the finish line at the noted son’s preference, with balloons and cake and gifts, certainly a first for us at the track if not a first for the track. If we had big hats and string ties we’d have been the envy of those most recently at Louisville and Baltimore.  But we digress.

Among Those of We was Former Owner who had trained and run horses at this very track.  It was like having the ultimate insider among us.  One who understood those bizarre program abbreviations.  One who could look at a horse and tell who would be likely to break stride.  One who knew the drivers (don’t call them jockeys), and when the favorites were too much of a favorite to spend $2.  We were in the money.  Yeah, right.

Number One Son of She had never been to a race track and never bet on a horse.  But he jumped right in, studied the program, pondered his wagers, and thoughtfully bet each race.  We’re not really sure exactly how well he did or didn’t do but he ended the night with a big smile so we figure he probably broke even and at least had fun.  Daughter of He and her guest sat and watched and waited and waited and watched and waited until the one race he apparently was waiting for while watching.  He played his sole bet of the night, a straight exacta based on something he never revealed.  He also never revealed how much he bet for that race but unfortunately it equaled how much he lost for the night.  Number Two Son of She was the big winner pulling in over $200 on a large purse trifecta.  Of course that was the race when he returned to the table from the betting window and compared his ticket with his notes he exclaimed that he picked the wrong horse and was there time to go make another bet just as the track announcer announced, “and they’re off and pacing.”

He and She of We had the perfect system.  She would pick a horse, he would bet on her selection.  Using Former Owner’s keen interventions combined with a keen sense of matching horses’ names to former vacation places we managed to break even for the evening.  When the companion of one of the Friends of Sons of She asked how she picked her horses, She of We spared her of all the technical jargon Former Owner used.  “Pick whatever you want.  Find a name you like, a driver you like (don’t call them jockeys), or the horse’s color you like and stick with that.”

Well, that’s when the lady sitting at the table next to us couldn’t take it anymore.  “You might as well just give them your money,” she huffed.  As the evening wore on we overheard her explain her system to her companion.  “Bet on every horse in the race and you’ll be sure to hit the winner.”

Why didn’t we think of that?  Well, the math works out that one would spend about $300 to win about $20.  Personally, we like Number Two Son of She’s system.  Pick the wrong horse in your highest wager of the night.  It works every time.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Take a Tip From Us

Michael Leave a comment

You know we’ve been pretty good at expressing our dismay when dismay is appropriate for expression.  A favorite of ours is the loss of “Thank you” by clerks, servers, tellers, and other manner of people who take money from us.  We’re told to “have a good one” or sometimes just are greeted with an open palm, not even the price repeated to us.  (See Terms of Appreciation, January 23, 2012 and You Want Fries With That? December 12, 2011 for a couple examples.)

But when we’re un-dismayed we’re going to mention that too.  Since we’ve released those two posts upon the world, we seem to be getting thanked more often.  Drive thru attendants are telling us the amount due, taking our payment, and saying “thank you” when returning our change.  We still get “Have a nice day” and now we will since we’ve been appropriately thanked for our purchase.   It gives us hope that another peeve will soon be history.  

Once upon a time in one of our posts we revealed that when out dining, He of We always pays in cash.  The check comes, he gives it that quick glance to make sure we didn’t get charge for the flambéed cocktail for two served to the next table, calculates the tip, counts out the bills, and returns the little bill book to the table.  (And why do restaurants put their mini-statements into little black books?  That’s another post for another day.)  A few minutes later the waitress comes back, picks up the wad of cash, and says, “You want any change?”  Sometimes during the mental communication between Each of We that waitress gets a good tongue lashing.  We’d love to say “Of course we do.  We don’t go to the super market, pick out $4.00 worth of green peppers, get to the cash register, give the clerk a five dollar bill and hear her ask ‘Do you want any change?’” 

No other clerk or money handler asks such a question.  And it’s really funny because even when the wait staff is completely incompetent they still get some sort of a tip.  So waiters and waitresses, please tell us, why do you have to ruin a perfectly good evening out by being so selfish and rude?  Wouldn’t you rather say, “I’ll be right back with your change,” and allow us the opportunity to say, “Oh, no. whatever’s left is for you.”  Wouldn’t you feel better about that than stiff-arming your customers for a couple of bucks?

We’re all for change.   And most of the time, you’re going to get it.  Just give us the courtesy of giving it to you before you take it.  You might even find a bit extra in there.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?