Stupid, NYRA, Stupid

It’s a long standing tradition for the track to sponsor a Give-A-Way when some nearly worthless promotional item draws people to come to the races. The idea is that once they are there, they will place a few bets adding to the take. In past years, stein mugs, collector plates, blankets, coolers, chairs and umbrellas sporting the Saratoga Track logo have been featured. Nice items indeed. But as the economy soured, and the New York Racing Association moved closer to bankruptcy the items have been come less frequent and cheesier if not suspect of being made by child labor in some third world country like Honduras or Pakistan.

Recently – like Thursday – the track gave away a thin white t-shirt with a single color logo that wasn’t even Saratoga red. Okay it was a St Patrick’s Day celebration in July. And the people came, as usual, even on the unusual Thursday Give-A-Away. (It’s normally Sunday.)

I always said that if I ran the Zoo, this is how I would do it, but, yesterday was a clear illustration that I’m not in charge. Nevertheless, as it was I stood before the not so happy public as a public relations disaster unfolded.

As a Peace Officer without a permanent post, I get assigned to fill unmanned spots or special situations. Give-A-Ways are special situations. My first duty was to assist in directing the flow of humanity that seeped toward the tables where boxes of t-shirts were stacked. Here patrons redeemed their vouchers received free at the gate with paid admission. Managing the crowd was like fighting an oil spill with a dishrag. People disregarded instructions to exit left insisting on going out the entrance or by ducking under the yellow rope, as useless as a containment boom in a hurricane. They grumbled about the long wait, seeming unaware of the fact that no one required them to stand in line and get the t-shirt. Very optional. A free choice. Admission is just Three Dollars! There is no requirement that forced them to get one give-a-way, let along an arm load of them. Grumble, grumble, nevertheless.

Upon receiving the shirt many will unfold and inspect the item to consider the hell they just went through measured against the value of value of the shirt. Trust me it doesn't hold.

But this was the unfolding PR nightmare. On any Give-A-Way Day the track can expect forty to fifty thousand. The long standing tradition is those enterprising if not totally greedy individuals who “spin”, that is those who repeatedly go through the turnstiles gathering vouchers for the give-a-way. It mobs the gates. So a few years ago the track set up a multiple ticket booth inside where the admitted public could buy five-at-a-time vouchers. Of course people “spin” at the booth and collect upwards to fifty or more vouchers. You’ll see people leaving the track with arm loads give-a-way items. Once the vouchers are gone not even those who come in with paid admission can get a voucher. In Thursday's case they had only 18,000 vouchers. The spinners gobbled them up by 12:05 pm.

I watched the t-shirt supply dwindle by 1:30 pm. Yet, a lot of people with multiple vouchers were still coming for t-shirts. Not wanting to catch their wrath when they discovered no more t-shirts, I began to back away, but the sergeant corraled five of us to be stationed behind the tables where the irate and stressed customer service people were handing out shirts one at a time. The mob of now anxious and desperate shoved vouchers at the customer service personnel. A few managed to get on the other side of the tables. Images of Haitian refugees waiting for food floated through my head. Sad, but this crowd was mad, not starving. Lots of pushing and shoving. Shouting and complaining. A few actually did a snatch and run, grabbing a shirt offered to another. Too much paperwork for the sergeants to engage in a pursuit.

Once the last shirt was gone the customer service people disappeared and five guards were left standing to answer questions about a situation we had nothing to do with.
“I bought all these vouchers, where do I get my money back?” It’s like betting on a horse...
“I didn’t get a vouchers, how do I get a shirt?” You don’t.
“How come you gave out more vouchers than t-shirts?” If I’m wearing this uniform you think I had anything to do with that?
“What do you mean there are no more t-shirts? I got a bus load of people who need t-shirts.” Are they naked?
“My dad has been getting t-shirts for fifty years. You people should know better.” You’d think your dad would have enough t-shirts by now.

Okay, that was what I was thinking.

Security guards get lots of questions, mostly about the location of the nearest bathroom. It got worse when the hottest tip of the day leaked that there were shirts in the Guest Services office. A mini-give-a-way ensued. I spent the rest of the afternoon among the irate individuals outside the door of Guest Services listening to them explain something that had no good explanation other than We Screwed Up.

The afternoon waned as customer complaint forms morphed faster than losing tickets on the grandstand floor. Bold Victory crossed the finish line, last horse in the last race that day. Hardly a victory for NYRA either. Yes, if I ran the Zoo, I would have done this differently. If I indeed ran the Zoo, I’d take every one of those complaints, call the person and invite them back to the track on one special day for a private party hosted At The Rail and take my lumps. Wasting an opportunity to make amends is worse than making a disaster in the first place.

By the way, if you didn’t get that t-shirt, it is now on sale for $12.50 on Ebay. Here’s the link.