October
NovemberMan with a plan
A man now pretty much out to pasture, but much given to attendance at races, trots and dogs back in the 1960s, could not contain his mirth when an advertisement appeared in the daily press and industry magazine back then for a senior bookmakers’ supervisor at what was the red-hots but carried the elegant title Trotting Control Board.
At the time this job was as keenly sought after as that of a Surfers bikini inspector, but with greater financial rewards.
Retirees from the position (and they were rare!) commonly moved on to licensed groceries, authorised newsagencies or horse agistment and stud properties. The advertising, required by statute, was well known to be a "throw", as the number was already in the frame for a just-retired police officer.
All villages need an idiot and all gatherings of pigeons cry out for a cat. The sport to whom I referred earlier had his ears back and was chomping at the bit for some fun.
Completing his application to be the trots betting supervisor was an easy task, necessitating evidence of age, academic achievement and actual experience in the industry, with persona references from within same.
The age, 27, was probably a bit young, but the experience claimed — 26 years, first appearances in a pram — just had to impress.
The tombola was a personal and laudatory reference from Broken Hill expatriate Shamus Patrick Clark, one of the most unforgettable characters ever to grace a racetrack between here and Ireland.
Emolument, remuneration, salary and wages are all toffy words for pay and it was here that our applicant’s offer was the most memorable.
He suggested (it is a long time ago) $150 per week to start, but with the undertaking that he would happily pay more, as he would be able to afford it when he found his feet in the job.
Rutherglen (Vic)