‘Celebrities’
Originally Written: May 14, 2008
Work at an OTB long enough and eventually someone there’s gonna mention one of the celebrities who bets at their window. Usually within the first two to three minutes of working at an OTB, actually. Then after about two to three seconds of conversation, you’re disappointed by how your co-worker defines ‘celebrity.’
Sure, a few A-listers have graced us with their presence but for the most part they’d rather go to the tracks themselves in a private box with champagne and gold-plated binoculars. I apologize if I’ve gotten carried away.
But the celebrities who are regulars at NYC’s branches aren’t typically as high-profile. We’ve got a few supporting Sopranos castmembers, a legendary stand-up from the Chappelle show, a famous and controversial sometimes-Hollywood-writer-director, and more stand-ups but this time Jews from the Catskills. I haven’t met all of them, but from what I’ve gathered, most of them are dicks. Maybe not the Black comic—he might just be racist—he seems to be a gentlemen to the women of his own race and just a dick to me, but I guess that’s okay considering what the men and women of my own race have done. But generally speaking, their assholes. Which isn’t surprising—they’re just regular people, who love horse-racing like Ben Affleck loves baseball and Spike Lee loves basketball, and as we’ve established most horse-racing fans are assholes. So it really has nothing to do with their professions.
I’m exaggerating a little, but just a little. However, it’s our reactions that are more interesting. The employees’ that is. They may not be A-list but they’re still more famous than we are, and they’re all we’ve got until the ghost of Seabiscuit walks through the double doors. One guy I know keeps one of the actor’s account information taped on the inside of his window—just there to look at, like an autograph. His account information. And it doesn’t even say his name, it says his character’s name. I guess thats slightly less creepy than a lock of hair. Or slightly more.
Even I’ve locked up. When I come across some of these fantastic and renowned writers, I’d love to talk shop with them and tell them I’ve won awards and ask for advice. But they don’t want to be bothered, they just wanna get their bets in before post time. At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s probably more my fault I can’t treat them like a typical customer (i.e: like crap.) At least I don’t memorize their account information, though, right? Right?
Maybe in the long run it’s because they’re special, even if only by a little, and by coming to where we work and using us to get what they want, that makes us feel a little special. And when you work a mundane city job day in and day out and deal with customers and a general public who don’t appreciate you and even look down on you, it’s nice to feel special once in a while.
