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I still remember the embarrassment of taking my son into a betting shop and the manager telling us that he had to leave even though he was just stood by the door. I felt such a bad mum. That must have been thirty years ago.
When I worked in the shops that didn’t even register as any sort of bad parenting. It’s just not worth the hassle of wrong person turning up whilst there’s a child in the shop and you’re seen to be doing nothing about it.
I was always happy (if possible) to take the slips and cash off the parent while they waited outside with their kid. Trust me, we could tell the difference between someone like yourself and a gambling addict who neglects their family.
When I used to go to Uttoxeter a lot you used to have to get your hand stamped if you went from one area of the course to another. The lovely old chap that used to do it said I was like a ‘mother hen with all of her chickens’ because I used to take my daughter and her friends.
Nowadays nobody shouts the odds. Betting shop employees don’t take bets anymore – they simply provide more cash in return for a charge on a debit/credit card. Thereafter they just watch the machines gobble up notes at a fast rate. What was once an interesting job is now extremely boring.
I worked for Ladbrokes from 1984 to 1998. Probably managed most of their shops in South and West London from Croydon to Chiswick. I was a calculator settler, though by the end I used to do most singles in my head.
Saw a lot of changes, from 2 meetings a day and Extel commentary to the introduction of TV’s, All Weather, Evening opening, Sundays and then the introduction of slots. Glad I got out when I did, but in my 20’s it was good craic.
Had some memorable days with the stand out being Dessie’s Gold Cup in a packed Wimbledon Hill shop.
Will definitely search out your books for my Kindle.This is a real stab in the dark, Salty, but were you ever a member of the puzzle forum ‘The Grey Labyrinth’?
I said it was a long shot (like most of my horses!)
As you may have guessed, i was a member, before it became defunct due to hosting issues, and there was someone from the UK or Ireland with your username, which is rather unusual in my experience. I used to spend a fair amount of time on the site which now I’m free to waste on horse racing sites instead!Bookmakers are greedy in the extreme. Fred Done is having a laugh by threatening to close all his betting shops with the loss of thousands of job if the government righly increases betting tax to get to persistent percentages. Well, I hope the government increases betting tax to call his bluff. The reality is that all Betfred betting shops will remain open. What Fred Done will do will be to increase the betting margins on his fruit machines to maintain overall profitability. Trump continues the lie that foreign countries pay for his tariffs when the reality is that American consumers are paying all the bills. Likewise, bookmakers will moan and groan when betting tax increases, whereas the reality is that it is the punters who will be paying.
You’re welcome, chestnut.
Remember Joe McNally? He wrote the Eddie Malloy series of racing books with Richard Pitman. as well as being a great writer, Joe is a top bloke and great advocate of my books. Below is a review he wrote about Shouting The Odds:
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/25709494-book-review-of-my-debut-novel-shouting-the-odds-by-joe-mcnally-author
Thanks for the interest
Cheers
JonHi moehat –
Thanks for the reply. Yes, you can buy it via Amazon (link below ) – or via Waterstones if you prefer.
Thanks for the interest …I have a theory that when the internet arrived, betting shop punters left in their droves to bet on-line with Betfair and elsewhere.
Shouting The Odds is a social history novel now, if anything! A walk down memory lane, best read and savoured with a cold beer or a good single malt – the way betting shops were in mid-90s Britain.
Best wishes,
Jon FranklinHi Salty,
– You clearly have some great memories of the way shops were, till the advent of the internet came along and changed things. I think you’ll relate to the characters I have written in Shouting The Odds – the good ones and the few bad eggs. I’ve written a slow count fraud into one of the early chapters – it’s based upon a real experience of mine when I was managing a Hills shop in Alperton, West London.
But the book celebrates the sense of community that was prevalent in betting shops, sadly gone by and large.
If you haven’t already bought it, the kindle costs less than the price of a 2 quid dual forecast and you can buy it here:
Be sure to get back to me about what you thought of it
Cheers,
Jon FranklinTwo regular punters I had in West London at the branch of Hills I managed, once asked me if they could have a plastic betting slip dispenser I was about to throw out one day – one of those we used to mount on the walls that had different shelves for the place pot and other multiple slips. These guys were brothers and lived in the same flat. Anyway, I said sure and gave it to them. They were chuffed – and apparently set it up in the kitchen they shared. I gave them a bunch of slips too, so they could fill in their bets over breakfast at home. I reckon they were slowly recreating a betting shop interior at home!
Cheers, Jon
The slow count merchants! Bane of my life as an Area Supervisor. However much you tried to get staff to be vigilant they were like that crease in your shirt you just couldn’t get rid of. Grudging respect for the way they operated, picking on shops with non-uniformed/new staff etc. Don’t know how much they would have made from the con, but I suppose there was very little risk in terms of criminal action.
Certainly not so stressful as the “Steamers” that operated once the bandit screens started to be dispensed with in the 90’s.Hi Salty,
I know what you mean, re. ‘grudging respect for’ … they operated in that grey area – having their money ready but taking their time to hand it over (depending on how their selection started the race ). The guys I encountered favoured dog races and 5f sprints for this purpose. In the end we got some help from the local police, till they moved on to target other branches.
At Hills, security would circulate fuzzy still photographs taken on internal cameras of the culprits – warning staff not to take bets off them. I had left Hills by the end of ’99 – what are the ”Steamer” bets you refer too?
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