The Ponies

In which our heroine discovers the wild world of online betting. . .

So my older brother gave me $50 for my birthday, with the caveat that this money must be used to bet on a horse for the Derby - either that or returned to him. Since gambling seems to be about the only vice on the planet that I can't get addicted to, I tried to wiggle out of this stipulation, but he called me from Louisiana or Texas or wherever he is at the moment to give me shit until I hunkered down in front of the computer and figured out how to bet on a horse online. Also, my mother called and told me that Barbaro was going to win and I had, by god, better bet that money on him. So I did. It took ages. For some reason I have absolutely no problem blithely entering my credit card and all personal information into websites that are promising to send me books or T-shirts or computer things or whatever, but entering that same information into gambling websites wakes up the latent paranoid Puritan in my soul and I'm sure they're going to drain my bank account, highjack my identity and leave me penniless in the gutter. Even more penniless in a deeper gutter than usual, I mean. Also, it's just not that simple.

You would think - I did - in this day and age, that it would be perfectly easy to bet any amount of money on anything using a credit card and a couple clicks of the mouse. You would be wrong, as I was. Betting on a horse for the Kentucky Derby is a complex, multi step process involving a lot of cross cultural diplomacy. It turns out that you have to register with the betting site first and by register I mean give them every bit of personal information that you possess. I did this over the phone, with someone named Diego. Diego's English, while undoubtedly better than my Spanish, was still not really up to the whole spelling things out task that phone information processing requires. Part of that was my fault; I can never remember what you're supposed to use as examples. I mean, normal people, when forced to spell things out over the phone, say A as in apple, S as in Sam, etc. I can't remember those nice normal things and instead my brain presents me with L as in lizard, V as in vampire, P as in psychoanalysis and so on, and I don't think Diego had a clue what the hell I was talking about. Eventually, though, with many mutual apologies, we figured it out and then I asked if I could bet now. No, no, I couldn't bet: I had to deposit money in my account first. Great, could I use a credit card for that? No, no I couldn't; that would be much too simple.

There are many different ways you can deposit money into your online betting account. None of them are simple. Some of them, as I discovered after a confusing 15 minute chat session with someone named "Billy" won't work for people who don't have a landline phone. Time was running short. I called the betting place again and, desperate, handed over all my financial information: bank account number, routing number and so on. Then I went back to the computer to actually bet my money. No go - and it was 20 minutes to post time. I called back and got Juanita. I said excitedly, "I want to put $20 on Barbaro to win, place or show, $20 on Sinister Minister and $10 on Steppenwolfer because I like his name!"
"You can't do that," said Juanita impatiently, "You only have $50."
"But that is $50."
"No, no. Those bets total $120 just for the first two."
I became completely confused. Have I mentioned that math is not my strong suit? "Help." I said plaintively, "I've never done this before and I don't know what you're talking about."
Juanita was very patient and she walked me through it. You can't just bet money to win, place or show - that's three separate bets, and they have to be filed, or whatever it is they do with them, individually.

So I ended up betting $8 to win, $8 to place and $8 to show on both Barbaro and Sinister Minister and forgot about Steppenwolfer altogether. I thought I was being smart, hedging my bets and being canny. I am clever, I thought. I can't lose. All my money won't just evaporate now. And it didn't, but shit. The one time in my life I'm prudent and yet again it is proved that I should listen to my mother, because if I'd just bet the whole damn $50 on Barbaro I'd be rich as hell right now and in the process of buying a digital SLR like I want. Alas, though, because I was cautious, and because I went with Sinister Minister, who came in 18th or 75th or something, I only won $65 - but that's way better than nothing and I am all enthused. Perhaps I can find an addictive pathways center in my brain for gambling after all. Meanwhile, I have to call Juanita & Diego back - I want my money and I can't figure out how to get it out of the computer.