Baby Sitting

It’s the last day at the track. I’ve gotten swept up on betting on the horses. I have a tip on a horse running in two weeks down at Monmouth. A horse purchased for twenty grand named Groovy Kid. His owner has been sitting in a lawn chair and drinking with a bunch of his buddies for the entire meet. A better tip comes from inside the paddock when the back stretch gang placed serious money on a horse named Hello Broadway. The two year old finished in a strong rally to win and is said to be headed to the Kentucky Derby.

The Belmont staff departs tomorrow. The Saratoga staff pretty much hit the trail last week when 70 security guards didn’t show up for work. Yesterday, I had an all rookie crew. One came with an attitude. Twice he didn’t pull the chain and when he didn’t even go to the gate I told him to go pull the chain. If this had been the regular staff I would have hopped down there and pulled it. But I smell attitude all over this kid and I wasn’t going to be snookered into his responsibility.

“Are you telling me?” Curtis snarled.

“Yes, in this case, I am.” I sharply enuciated each word. I knew damn well that this ticked him off. The kid had no tolerance for being told what to do.

He laughed defiantly dismissing me as nothing more than just another security guard. “You can't tell me what to do.”

“If you are telling me you won’t pull the gate, then I’m going up stairs to tell the sergeant I don’t need you.”

Curtis glared. The big black kid didn’t intimate me one bit. Something inside me clicked. I knew to difuse the situation, but I wasn't going to let the kid get away with it. On his own he’d walk right into insubordination. I jumped all over it.

“Are you telling me you aren’t going to pull the gate?” I repeated. He flinched.

“The sergeant told me to stand by that gate.” He pointed to one of the four gates on the bridal path. Mr. Smores had pulled the gate while Curtis took a break and had not relinquished it upon his return. Oh brother.

“You mean to tell me that is the only gate you are going to pull?”

“That is the one the sergeant told me to stand by.”

I rolled my eyes.“Well if that is the only gate you are capable of handling, and you’re incapable of pulling any others, I’ll see if I can accommodate your inabilities.” The other guards laughed and the regular patrons who have been camped out at the gates for the past several weeks smirked. I sighed.

Poor Mr. Smores stood in the middle of the path holding the chain, wondering what he had done wrong. I walked over and took the chain from his hands. For the benefit of the audience I asked, “Do you think you might be able to handle the other gate without any problems, seeing how Curtis here is a bit confused on how the other gate operates? He isn’t versatile enough to manage the other gate. It could be a right – left thing. I’m not sure.”

Now Mr. Smores wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist either. Suddenly I found myself explaining to him how to pull the gate on the opposite side of the path. For one brief second I panicked, but the old guy caught on after he figured out that the loop in the chain left it too short to span the path. Must unhook loop. And for Curtis, he finally realized that hanging the chain across the horse path in front of the metal gate that separates the clubhouse from general admission was too much extra work. He quit doing that without me having to tell him. Heaven forbid.

Once my babysitting chores were finished, I went to the ladies room to cool off and found a 94 year old women in need of medical attention. She was lucky Curtis didn't find her.