One of the unanticipated benefits of the Question 3 ballot question last November was that not only were the greyhounds liberated from a life of running around, but many humans also saw some residual good fortune.
Once the big bosses were educated about how cruel it is to force your employees to run around in circles, only to tell them to do it all over again tomorrow, we (hereafter referred to as “the little people”) have been shown a little mercy.
The whole employment picture for greyhounds really resonated for the Little People. For instance, in months past, I started each morning at Banker & Tradesman locked in my cubicle, let out only for an early morning walk, with a bone to chew on, left over from the publisher’s dinner the night before.
Since the voice of the people was heard in November, I’m relatively free to wander the halls, sniffing and begging for column ideas.
Yes, just as the dogs became discouraged constantly chasing the bunny tail or whatever furry thing was kept just out of reach, so do newspaper writers, who barely have time to finish a cogent piece before some editor begins demanding something for next week. With the advent of Question 3, columnists are now allowed to pick an old column that the readers won’t remember, spiff it up a bit, and use it again. That’s why my column last week on Paul Revere riding through the state warning us about British food seemed so familiar.
Quite aside from any specific residual act of kindness that has flowed to the Little People from the greyhound thing, the real benefit has come in the spirit of kindness and that now pervades the kennels and the newsroom and the trading floors and the drive-in window at the community bank on the corner.
I haven’t been swatted on the nose with a copy of Banker & Tradesman since Question 3 passed – although an editor did order me to “sit” when I was past deadline.
Lest you think I’m overstating the influence of a ban on greyhound racing on the lives of real people, you should be aware how much doggies and people are alike.
Last year, researchers at the University of Vienna bribed dogs into doing a trick, but then proceeded to “cheat” some of the dogs, while over-rewarding other dog slackers. The dogs that were cheated then refused to perform – and some of them turned their back on the scientists, in a snit. I see this dog-like behavior all the time in the Banker & Tradesman newsroom, where some of the staff gets all huffy at my extra barrel of rum and my research assistant and iPod, playing country ballads about mean bankers who foreclosed on farms and stuff.
Beyond that, there was much to be learned in the business world from the greyhounds. MBAs can tell you about “personal communications channels” and how important it is to stay in your lane, if you want to catch the rabbit, er, I mean, the customer.
A Dog’s Life
One of the knocks on dog racing was the number of dogs injured in pursuit of victory. Actually, in this case, the dogs had it better than the humans. There was always a vet on duty at the tracks – and the dogs were treated whether or not they had health insurance. The humans are told by their bosses that faith healing is the appropriate response to most injuries, with a $500 co-pay if you go to the vet, or the doctor.
In truth, some of the criticism of the dog racing ethos was unfair. Doggie civil libertarians complained of small, cramped cages that the greyhounds lived in. This was a hoot for humans who live in $8,000 per month Back Bay studio apartments. The dogs had it good.
I apologize, but I really have to go now. The editors have put down 50 bucks on Cohen to “place” in the race to get the columns in on time. If I lose, I may be sent off to the farm, to spend the rest of my days having sex with other slow columnists, in the hopes of siring a winner.
