Page 40 of Meet Jon, the Billionaire

Chapter Twenty-One

Jonathon

I have a confession to make. Sometimes, when I dream, I see the scroll bar of the NYSE.

Obviously, I’m not put off by numbers. I’m no master theoretical mathematician but I get by good enough to make billions of dollars. Like most Americans, I am the type who thinks he’s above average in intelligence even if that’s not necessarily true.

Yet, when I stood there near the betting windows at the track—somewhere I’d never been before in my entire life—Amelia made me feel very humble indeed. It was clear that when it came to numbers I had a thing or two to learn from her.

“Okay, so in your specific race you can’t bet on anyone but your own horse.” Amelia gestured at the board. “So you might want to go across the board to maximize your profits and help mitigate your losses.”

“What?”

She grinned. “You bet on Bob to win, to place, and to show. If he comes in first, you get all three bets to pay out. But even if you don’t come in first, you can help offset the cost of your win bet, maybe even come out ahead.”

“I think I’m following you so far.” I stroked my chin. “What’s the biggest bet you can make?”

Amelia’s eyes widened. “At this track, it’s a pick six, I think. There are fifteen total races. You pick any six of them in consecutive order, and then pick the horse to win each. If the horses all win, you win huge, but that’s the ultimate high risk/high reward.”

“Would you pick six?”

She frowned, her face scrunching up. “You know, I probably wouldn’t unless I just had money to burn. If you want something similar to the pick six but it’s a bit more reasonable odds, you could try a trifecta, or a superfecta if they have one.”

“Right.” I laughed helplessly. “And those terms mean…”

Amelia grinned, her smile stretching across an already lovely face and making it lovelier. I think she enjoyed that I was such an apt pupil and ardent listener. “You pick one race and choose three or four horses. If they come in the exact places you list—usually first, second, and third—you win big.”

“All right,” I said. “Let's do a trifecta.”

I started to approach the window, but Amelia grabbed my arm.

“Whoa, whoa there, sport, you can’t just go up to the window when you don’t know what to say.”

“What do you mean?” I frowned. “You taught me the terminology—”

“I taught you SOME of it.” Amelia grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s simple. I’ll teach you.”

I soon discovered several things I hadn’t known before. One, you could bet on more than just the races happening at our own track. Two, there were as many theories for picking a winner as there were bettors. I’d never seen so many obsessed people in one place before.

As I learned the proper order in which to make my bet, I noticed some of them huddled in corners over tables, their eyes laser-focused on their phones or in some cases printed out sheets. Scanning, analyzing, and crunching the numbers to ensure maximum betting accuracy. On one hand, I respected their dedication. On the other hand, I could tell which ones had become obsessive.

“That was my aunt and uncle for a while,” Amelia said, indicating the huddled forms with a nod of her head. “Thank goodness the bakery took up so much of their time, or they’d have been here every day, probably losing money. Of course, does anybody really make money gambling?”

“Some people do. I’ve hung out with a few, but the fact of the matter is that they’re just lucky at the end of the day. No matter what system they have, it never seems to be one hundred percent effective.” I shrugged. “We usually don’t make money bets at the firm.”

“Oh?” Amelia asked. “Then what do you make bets on?”

“Well, there was the time that Stanley bet Mason he couldn’t get the Assistant VP of a rival competitor into bed, and whoever lost had to shave their head…”

“I see. Kind of a bunch of frat boys, huh?”

“I suppose, but we have to do something to keep ourselves from getting too serious, you know what I mean? We’re making million and even billion-dollar decisions every day, and that’s an enormous amount of pressure. A little harmless wagering keeps morale up.”

“Well, for some of these people it’s a way of life.” Amelia sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, what was it you said? Everybody has their coping mechanisms, and at least they’re usually only hurting themselves. And the fact is, the majority of bettors aren’t obsessed and are just having fun. I’ll admit I find it rather addictive, but much like my aunt I just don’t have the time to be obsessed with it.”

When Amelia finally decided I was ready, I stepped up to the counter and placed my bets. I shot out the stream of words well enough that Amelia gave me a little round of applause at the end.

“Almost perfect,” she said, “but you forgot to tell them which track you were betting on.”

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