As it happens, the founder and CEO of the company I work for has two passions:
Wine and horses.
So, it only makes sense that a lady of her caliber, cleverly combines the two with business and schmoozes clients in a corporate suite at Royal Randwick Racecourse.
So, guess where I’ll be tomorrow?
When it comes to punting horses, my level of knowledge is nix.
As a working, single gal, Melbourne Cup was just an excuse to scoot to the pub at lunch time and not come back to the office until the next day. Notwithstanding, hungover. (Damn you Victorians getting the entire day off!)
I’ve never even won a bet. Maybe I have but the winnings would’ve been a pittance.
I just don’t have it in me to take the risk to bet big or against the odds.
I never want to be at a loss, I’m satisfied to end the day breaking even.
There are those who earnestly study the racing guides, precariously picking the right horse, fervently figuring out the odds and calculating the possible winnings in their head.
How do they know? How can they predict? Where’s the guarantee?
Having been to a couple of these corporate functions now, I pretty much stick to what I know best (socializing and schmoozing) and leave the gambling to the experts.
Tomorrow will be my third attendance at the races. I’m nowhere closer to comfortably making a decent sized bet. I just don’t have it in me. I’d rather spend my money on shoes.
Preparing for the event, I briefly toyed with the idea that this time, maybe I should be a little more daring; take on more of a devil may care attitude.
The thing is, there have many instances in my life when I have.
I’ve packed my bags for far off rural Japan, not knowing a single soul let alone speak the local dialect, yet somehow still establishing a new life for myself.
Accepting sales jobs that were way beyond my capacity, making up for the lack of experience with the grand ambition to give it a red hot go.
And let’s not forget marriage. Now, people will say the just know when they’ve met The One. As lovely as that romantic notion is, it’s still just a hunch. A leap in blind faith and unconditional, selfless love.
So, maybe I’m not a party pooper at the races after all. Maybe all the punting I do in life makes up for it.
In life or at the races, do you like to take a punt? What’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken? Do you have an unhealthy obsession with shoes too?
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