I’m a woman working in a betting shop – this is what I’ve learned about men

Andy Burnham has handed more powers to local authorities to refuse betting shops, saying that “high streets have been hollowed out by the unchecked spread of vape stores, betting shops, and rogue businesses that do little to serve local communities”. But what is it like to work in a betting shop and what do they do for the community? Here, a 21-year-old female employee on the south coast of England reveals all. Before I could even utter the words “I’m the new hire”, I got asked for ID. If someone looks under 25 in the betting shop, we’re supposed to get proof of age within 30 seconds. And if they’re under 18, they’re not to be inside under any circumstances. My approach is – if you look like you’re my age, I’ll ask. But most of my regulars are old men. If they’re in their forties, they’re young compared to most of our customers. It was only during the World Cup that I regularly saw younger people come in. Most are men too. We only have one regular woman. We open at 9am and will always have a customer waiting outside. My job is mainly to process bets, make small talk with customers and make them coffee and tea. It’s unlimited and free, but mainly for our regulars – or if I like someone’s vibe. Shorts Some customers have favourite machines or favourite people, but some (white British) guys will refuse to be served by me, because I’m a woman. They won’t even look at me, even if my colleague is out for lunch. They want the face-to-face experience and they only want to deal with a bloke. There is one guy who simply won’t bet if one particular male colleague of mine is working; he’ll kick off and say “I’m not f**king betting here if he’s here”. It doesn’t bother me because they’re old and I don’t want to be in an exchange with them anyway. I get to keep scrolling on my phone. Another guy will press the button on a fruit machine then go stand outside and look at it through the window. You can see him on the CCTV squinting through the glass. I think it’s a nerves thing, because it doesn’t change the outcome. Other guys will ask us how much money each of the machines have given out. Their logic is that the one that’s given out the least money is due to hand out money soon. We tell them that’s not how it works. Other customers will be over-friendly, saying “Oh she’s a pretty one” about me or, to my boss: “Did you pick her because she’s so beautiful?” They’re not bad people, they’re just of an older generation. If they tried to get really perverted or touch me, then it’d be a different story. Anyone’s free to be here. The road we’re on is notorious for all the crackheads in town to frequent, and so the toilet has a permanent sign saying “not in service”. Customers need a key to access it. In terms of violence in the shops, last week someone tried to pick up a chair to throw at people, but he was too weak and it was too heavy. We barred him. At one of my shops we have metal bars between us and the customers and at the quieter shop it’s glass with little holes in it so they can hear us. We have lanyards with a panic button on them. If someone freaks out or gets aggressive, you can press it and someone will come through the speakers saying, “There’s CCTV, we can see what you’re doing and we will call the police if you don’t stop.” It’s an empty threat, but nine times out of ten, it works. And if it doesn’t work, the police will come. We also have another panic button under the desk, to stop someone in an armed robbery from shooting you when you fiddle with your lanyard. You do have to be nice to the customers, though, because they might tip you, and I’m on £13.25 an hour. The biggest tip I’ve got is £20, but I know people who have £50 or £100. But once, this guy won £2600. It’s the biggest win I’ve seen – and he only tipped me 50p. It was also the last 15 minutes of the day, I was just like “I hate you so much”. Punters don’t tell us how much they’re losing, but one guy comes in every night, and always puts in £50, £100 into the fruit machines for a few hours. Nothing comes from it, I reckon he’s losing £500 a night. Technically when they lose a lot we’re meant to find out how they’re earning their money, but I think some just have decent pensions. When I see someone lose, if they’re an arsehole, I think they deserve it, but some people are so vulnerable it can get quite depressing. It’s sad sometimes, just watching them going about winning and losing. Sometimes you’ll hear them cheering for hours, then all of a sudden you’ll hear “Oh fuck”. I get anxious, but I have to remind myself it’s not my money, I didn’t make those choices. One guy, I really love. He will stay from mid-morning until about 5-6pm, doing £5 bets at a time. He comes up to the till and shows me pictures of his dog or his grandchildren. If he sees the staff are stressed out he will go buy us a Red Bull or give side-eyes to people who are crashing out. It’s not for me to say “Do you think you can’t do this?” when they’re placing a bet. If they’re too drunk, you’re allowed to intervene (most customers are a bit pissed), but it depends on how they’re acting. If you see them put a horrendously big bet you’re allowed to not let them. I’m not 100 per cent on what the policy is, though, and that says something. Everyone says to me “Does it not tempt you to gamble?” but I work for that money, I deserve it. Why would I put it into a machine then pray to god that I could get some more? The thing I don’t get and don’t like is the gaming machines; they only cause trouble. Even if you win big, they’re so addictive. I’d say about 30 per cent of our customers are unhealthy gamblers or addicts. Some people find it really hard to walk away; there are some regulars who will come for a strict 90 minutes and know what they’re doing when it comes to sports. That said, I disagree with Andy Burnham’s take on betting shops – it’s not all bad. The bingo is wholesome, and placing bets makes sports more fun. There is a big community. I have regulars who are just very lonely and know all of us and have friends there and it gives them – depressingly – a bit of purpose, something to do in their day, someone to talk to, otherwise they’d be at home and wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. If you take betting shops away, you lose that. You get the sense that some of them haven’t spoken to a woman in so long they don’t know how to. One guy is quite big and really smells. I think he can’t bathe himself, and lives alone. He sits in the shop for hours. He doesn’t talk to anyone but I guess he feels like at least he’s around people. I do wonder why a lot of these men are so lonely, but the way they talk to me makes me think “you’re lonely because you weren’t very nice [to other people in your life]”. One guy hasn’t spoken to his wife in 25 years, hasn’t seen his kids, and his mum doesn’t speak to him. I just think “what have you done?” I have to bring that mentality otherwise it’s more depressing. Some come to see friends. There’s a guy I really like, and he doesn’t seem lonely or miserable. He has a family, he has a life, but his friends hang out at the shop so why not come along and place s £2 bet too? We have a self-excluding system where if someone feels like they have a gambling addiction or problem, they can ask us to ban them from every betting shop for a year. We take their details and put a photo of them on our system, and we familiarise ourselves each shift with everyone banned or self-excluded by looking at a nine-page list. A lot of them persistently try to return, though. One guy had a month left of self-exclusion but insisted that a specific staff member told him the previous week he could come in again (he hadn’t). Recently, a guy came in with his sister. They won a few games, then she left, he did a couple more, then when he came to cash out he said “self-exclude me” and the way he said it felt like he wanted to eliminate himself from the world, not just the shop. I asked if he was sure, but he insisted. In this job there are a lot of challenges; information to learn and responsiblity for a lot of money, but I do like the people I work with – well, most of them. After a while you stop seeing it all as money you’re dealing with every day. It’s no longer £10,000, it’s just something else you’re counting.