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A Life Of Crime Is A Gamble

, , , , , , , | Legal | January 20, 2020

My mum is the area manager of a chain of betting shops. She travels around them all making sure nothing shady is going on and everything is running smoothly. One day, we receive a panicked call from her.

“Yeah, this is going to sound nuts but can you come to get me? Someone is in the shop with a gun threatening to steal.”

At hearing this, we all freak out. For reference: guns have been illegal in Scotland for many years unless you have a specialised license. So, we make the 20-minute drive there only to find a police car and someone in an oversized onesie being escorted out screaming that he has no idea why he is being taken in.

Confused, we walk in to find out what happened. We find my mum and two other employees struggling to contain their laughter. After a few minutes, we manage to get it out. Someone came in wearing a balaclava and all black, and carrying a loaded gun. When the panic button was pressed, he ran… only to turn up a measly ten minutes later after changing clothes and ask to make a bet. By that point, the police arrived and he was escorted out immediately.

I’ll Bet That It Won’t End Well For Him

, , , , | Right | November 11, 2019

(I’m female and work in a betting office or bookies. Customers can get aggressive but I’m well used to it and they don’t intimidate me. I’m on my own as my coworker is out on lunch and there are two customers in line. A regular walks past the customers and slams a betting docket on the counter.)

Regular: “That’s going off.” *meaning the race is about to start*

Me: “There’s a queue.”

Regular: “I don’t care; that’s about to go off.”

Me: “And there’s still a queue.”

Regular: “B****, take the f****** bet before the race starts.”

Me: “No. The race times and odds have been posted since 9:00 am this morning. It’s now 5:00 pm. You had plenty of time to put your bet on. Get in the queue.”

Regular: “You don’t want to f****** mess with me. Take the f****** bet.”

Me: “No.”

Regular: “I will mess you up. Take the f****** bet or you will regret it.”

Me: *picking up the betting slip* “Are you really threatening me over a £2 bet at 2/1 odds? The most you could have won is £6. F*** off, and next time, get your bet in earlier. Also, the race is finished and your horse didn’t win, so you saved £2.”

Regular: “You’re going to regret this, you dumb b****.”

(He storms out and I continue on with my shift. It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened and I have a giggle about it with the remaining customers. At closing my time, just as I’m about to leave, my coworker comes in from the back room where the security cameras are.)

Coworker: “Uh [My Name], did you have a run-in with [Regular] earlier?”

Me: “Yeah! He tried to skip the queue with a tiny bet right before a race started. I told him to get in the queue and he threatened me. How did you know?”

Coworker: “Because he’s in the alley beside the building with a baseball bat.”

(My coworker ended up locking us in the shop while we called the police. The regular was arrested and barred from the shop for life. All that over a £2 bet that he wouldn’t have won anyway!)

Caught You Red Haired

, , | Right | March 17, 2019

(It is toward the end of my shift, so I go out to empty the gaming machines to put the money through the tills. As I take the box containing the money, a regular customer comes over and starts a conversation. It should be noted that I have red hair.)

Customer: *jokingly* “Are you stealing all the money again?”

Me: “I wish it was mine to keep! Sadly, it’s on its way to the tills.”

Customer: “Oh, good. People are probably a bit suspicious of you.”

Me: “Why’s that?”

Customer: “You know how it is. Everyone knows that people who steal tend to be gingers or—“ *leans closer and whispers* “—black people.”

Me: *speechless*

A Sure Bet That This Is A Scam

, , , | Right | October 13, 2018

(I’m working at the till in a bookies. Customers write bets on paper with carbon copy and we stamp them in the till when they pay. We keep the original and they keep the copy. After each race, the manager marks up the winners and files them so the counter staff can find them when the customer brings up the winning docket. We have computers to check all results and odds, etc. One of our regulars is a complete gambling addict and is constantly trying to scam us. She bets on the dog races every morning. For this type of race, people typically bet on the trap number rather than the dog name; a bet that just says “three €2” is a perfectly valid bet for €2 on the dog in trap three winning the next race after the till timestamp. This customer keeps all her old dockets, and if trap three wins in a different race later on, she will try to pass it off as a winning docket, so we have to double-check everything she does. One day she decides to try a new scam. She hands me docket for trap number five. I look through the winning dockets; it’s not there. I call up the results.)

Me: “This isn’t a winner.”

Customer: “It is; number three.”

Me: “This says number five.”

Customer: *shouting* “It’s number three.”

Me: “That’s number five.”

(By this stage the manager has found her original docket and brings it over. It clearly says “five.” The manager holds the docket up to the glass.)

Manager: “What does that say? What does it say?”

Customer: “That’s how I write my threes!”

Manager: “Get out; you’re barred!”

Slightly Accenting Your Assumptions

| Friendly | May 15, 2017

(I work in an inner city betting shop and as such, we can have some pretty scary customers from time to time. One day, I’m having a chat with a scruffy looking but otherwise friendly customer I’ve never seen before when this happens:)

Customer: “You’re not from round here are you? Are you from [Major City on the other side of the country known for its distinctive accent]?”

Me: “Not quite! I’m from [Smaller City close to the other major city whose accent is very similar].”

Customer: “Oh, I love [Smaller City]! It’s beautiful up there isn’t it?”

Me: “It really is; I miss the countryside around it to be honest. I take it you’ve been?”

Customer: “Oh, yeah, I did ten years in [Small City Prison, famously one of the highest security prisons in the country]. I love it up there!”

(He turned out to be one of the loveliest customers in that shop. I never did find out what he did time for, though!)