Her Name is Betty

 

The lady stationed at the returns counter had heard it all, she had seen the shenanigans that people pull and had become quite skilled at spotting falsehoods.  Her name was Betty.  She always had a smile for everyone walking up to the counter and she had the politest way of exposing the truth. 

Upper Management had always made sure Betty was at the top of her pay grade.  They understood her value to the store and went out of their way to keep her happy.  There wasn’t a week that went by when Betty hadn’t saved them money or merchandise.   Two years ago, they had even given Betty her own parking spot next to the building.  She smiled at her name on the plaque every morning when she pulled in. 

Betty never socialized with the other women working at the store.  Most were much younger than she was and those of her same age were married and had busy lives of their own.  The Betty that Management never saw was the one standing at the betting window of the racetrack, where she was on most nights.  Betty loved to bet on the horses.  Nothing at all like the professional lady working in their returns department.  This side of Betty was tough as nails, with Budweiser flowing through her veins. 

With a rolled-up program in her fist, she eyes the jockeys, and their posture, she closely watches the horses as they parade by.  She seems to know the ones looking sluggish or a little overweight.  She eyes the track for moisture, and her pulse quickens the moment she hears the crackling voice over the PA system.  Here is where Betty is in her element, not examining the empty carton of a vacuum cleaner for signs of a previous model’s parts.  

 

 

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 Side note

Betty is based on a real person, whose only mistake I'm aware of happened one Sunday, when she reached into her purse to add her change to the collection plate and accidently deposited a handful of bottle caps into the basket.