On Duty

Some security jobs are more glamorous than others. Mine is a highly visible post, the horse crossing leading from the paddock where the jockeys saddle up before parading toward the track. The crossing is at the intersection of the clubhouse gate. Here the mix of patrons runs the gambit. Local and state politicians using the six week meet as an opportunity to press the flesh, and has been TV stars flaunting used reputations in desperate need of a new agent, to CEOs and retired,slightly overweight NFL and NBA athletes to the everyday betting Joe with his slicked-back hair and too much cash crammed in his wallet and far too many Cubans stuffed in his shirt pocket. Usually there’s a woman attached to one arm, wearing a thin dress she has been poured into, regardless of body type, and a topped with a hat with more feathers than Yankee-Doodle Dandy. (Some of these hats look a bird collided with a the front grille of a Buick.)

The downside of my job is that I do work at a horse crossing. And horses have carbon foot prints. It is amusing to watch the expressions on the patrons’ faces when they encounter a horse dropping; none finds it equally amusing to step in it. And unfortunately, although I've never seen a job description, it is my responsibilty to protect property. I assume that means people's shoes.

Yesterday I handed out the first hot tip of the day. As people flocked into the clubhouse I warned, “Watch your step.” A horse had left its calling card in the pathway and managed to string it out across the entire width. There was no going around the mess. For the first half hour I stood in front of the piles and alerted the oblivious to what laid ahead.

I tried my best to mix humor with the disaster. That wasn’t hard. Many wrinkled their noses, hesitated while looking for another way around, then gingerly stepped over. Others never missed a beat. Some stutter-stepped and avoided contact. And a few never heard me or saw me standing in the middle of the path waving a rolled up newspaper. They stepped right in it. "That's for good luck", I'd smile.

Yes, a good security guard should be pretty invisible, but always present.