Four weeks ago I wrote the article that appears below questioning the race day attendance figures asserted in the BRC’s strategic plan.
It was obvious to anyone who regularly attended race meetings – anyone except Racin’ Nathan Exelby that is – that the numbers could not possibly have been correct.
No one gave me any tips about the matter, it was just a simple matter of looking at the plan, dissecting the numbers, making a couple of logical deductions and then screaming WTF? at the top of my lungs and waking all the neighbours up.
How ironic is it then that on the same day that the NRL is being outed for jacking up its attendance numbers I have received half a dozen phone calls telling me that I was jack bang spot on about my calculations and explaining how the fiddle was pulled by Whimpey Dave so he could hit the mark on his KPI target and score the performance pay bonus to which he was most certainly not entitled.
The whole scam is blindingly simple, and I’m kicking myself for not working it out the minute that I realised the numbers were being cooked.
Here it is.
Whimpey Dave simply issued a directive that all course staff, licencees and officials had to scan their entry passes every time they passed through the gates, and then counted the entries as race day attendances.
I dead set under-rated the bloke. How easy is that rort?
There are 300 paid staff that enter the racecourse every Saturday. Tote ladies, strappers, bar persons, waiters, trainers, jockeys, maintenance workers, sod turners, ticket sellers, cooks, stewards and a whole lot more.
Then there are the bookies, their clerks, the bloke who plays the guitar at 3pm, the kids in the Giddy Up club, the freeloaders with complimentary tickets, the cleaners, the security guards and even more to boot.
Some of them go in and out of the gate a few times every raceday. And every time they do they are required to scan their passes, and every time they scan them they are counted as a warm body coming through the turnstiles.
To jack the numbers up even higher there are a number of race days each year on which each of the above mentioned folk are invited – nay, urged – to bring their partners along for nix, even if they only stay on the course for a minute or two.
Boom, boom, boom. They all count as attendees.
What a crooked bastard Whimpey Dave truly is, and what a crook Nifty Nev is for knowing about the rort and sanctioning it.
Renewal, creativity and innovation.
For once in his life Whimpey Dave actually wasn’t lying.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
The joke’s on us.
Nice work mate.
Shame you’re now sprung isn’t it?