They can’t see me but I can see them. They don’t mind as they think of me as their guardian angel looking down from above providing them with protection. I’m known as the eye in the sky.
Sitting in front of bank of twenty screens, I can see what’s happening in each branch of YouBet through the CCTV cameras which they’ve installed. I monitor what’s going on and watch for problems such as customers arguing with or threatening staff, or fighting amongst themselves. If I see something kicking off, I switch on the microphone in the shop and listen to what’s happening and intervene if necessary.
‘You are being recorded on CCTV,’ I announce over the loudspeaker. ‘Leave the shop or I’ll call the police.’
That usually does the trick. Some panic and run out. Others look up and give the camera the finger before casually strolling out. The staff usually provide a thumb’s up.
There is a button under the counter which colleagues can discreetly press if they feel under threat and catch my attention. On one such occasion, I saw a pair wearing balaclavas with baseball bats shouting at a female colleague who was cowering behind the screen.
‘Hand over the takings or we’ll climb over.’
I stepped in immediately.
‘The police have been called and you are being filmed.’
I dialled 999.
They were not deterred and waited while the girl nervously took the takings from the safe and the till and transferred them into a bag. Luckily, a squad car was in the immediate vicinity and officers arrived just as the thugs were leaving. After a tussle, they were arrested and taken away. When they’d gone, she blew a kiss to her unseen saviour. I’d liked to have given her a hug.
Most days though nothing happens. Moving from screen to screen, I see the expectant looks on the faces of punters who thought they’d backed a certainty and their crumpled looks as they watch their horse disappoint. And I watch staff take money from these eternal optimists and –very occasionally – put a big smile on someone’s face.
I feel really sorry for the losers. Last Christmas, I saw my neighbour, Carol, place a bet in the local branch. I was surprised as she’s on her own and has young kiddies. She watched the race on the TV and tore up the betting slip before leaving. I didn’t think she’d be back. But I was wrong. I spotted her two days later and listened in as she stood at the counter.
‘Number three at Kempton, twenty pounds.’ That’s a lot for her, I thought. ‘It had better win or they’ll be no Crimbo in our house.’
Her luck was out and she left in tears after the race.
Christmas day wasn’t the disaster she feared though. She found a box on her doorstep that morning packed with prezzies for the children and a turkey. I watched her from my window as she looked around wondering where it had come from. The following day I started volunteering for the gamblers’ helpline and am still doing it six months’ later. I haven’t told my employers. If they found out, they’d probably sack me because it’s a conflict of interest. But that’s a gamble I’m willing to take.
About the author
Rob lives in Edinburgh started writing short stories during lockdown. To date, he's had several tales published by Cafe Lit and others in various anthologies. He likes to experiment with different genres and styles of writing.
Did you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the writers and half towards supporting the project (web site maintenance, preparing the next Best of book etc.)
No comments:
Post a Comment