Being a bookie is an easy enough job. You set odds, and then you collect money, and
then you watch and see how things go and then once things go a certain way you
pay out money to some people and collect on bets from other people. It's a lot of people skills, which you've got
in spades, and a lot of math, which you've never been any good at.
For the most part, that means you spend your time acquiring
clients, chatting them up and the like, and then rapidly either lose money to
them, because of errors you've made in their favor, or lose their business,
because of errors you've made in your own favor.
Today you're going to have your legs broken by your bookie
supervisor.
"I'm really sorry," he'll say as he finishes one
leg and begins working on the other.
"You're a nice guy, you're just awful at the more challenging part
of this job."
"CAN'T WE WORK OUT SOME KIND OF WORK SHARE OR
ASSISTANCE PROGRAM?" you'll gasp out between tears. He'll shake his head remorsefully.
"I think we're gonna have to let you go," he'll
say, giving you one last pat on the thigh before he brings the sledgehammer
down right on the knee cap.
When you wake up in a few hours and finally work up the
temerity to call 9-1-1, you'll feel pretty rotten. But on the upside, he'll have left you with a
few thousand dollars to cover your immediate medical expenses, and a tip on an
upcoming boxing match. He'll give you
the odds, then let you know how the fix is working, with careful instructions
on how you should bet to be sure you can stretch this cash out as long as
possible. It'll all look like
gobbledygook to you.
Congratulations Substandard Bookie!
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