The Holiday Man Under Pool

Wagering in the workplace is shunned in most industries in America. Then again, every workplace defines wagering differently. Some offices strictly forbid the exchanging of money, while others post the weekly football pool above the water cooler. Despite laws outlining which betting activities are legal, most jurisdictions in America don't seem to care unless the wagering cuts into state action. Under this model, American workers happily take advantage. After all, a soul-sucking career in a cubicle sandwiched between gridlock can certainly induce a gambling habit. Every good job also deserves a morale-boosting escape from the daily grind. Whether that's satisfied by gifting birthday lottery tickets or hosting an academy award pool, some form of gambling is good for the workplace ecosystem.

Naturally, the same cultural impulse exists within law enforcement careers. Puritans may disapprove, but the reality is, in an overwhelming male, overwhelming type-A driven occupation, there exists a boatload of dark humor and frat house antics. As the spectrum of offending behavior goes, friendly betting is a minor concern for Police Chief's in America"s 18,000 law enforcement agencies overwhelmed with workplace complaints. 

Notwithstanding, the NYPD has well established rules prohibiting "games of chance" within the department. Of course, wagering still flourishes. The presence of action varies greatly from one building to another. As you might expect, football boxes are not so visible within the hallowed walls of police plaza, but some of the biggest cash payouts stem from "Puzzle Palace" as it's known among the rank and file.

Some mindful employees will place wagers outside the facility or at the pub after work. But technology has changed the game. As millennials and gen z have infiltrated the ranks, today's rookies prefer to wager digitally, since finding a pub is challenging for many without the aid of a virtual reality headset. The emergence of online wagering has opened the door to billions in revenue for states seeking creative ways to offset spending insolvency. Still, there's no better feeling than publicly exposing a shit-talkin' colleague than making him pay up at roll call in front of the entire platoon. Nobody's getting rich from workplace wagering anyway, but the theater is certainly worth the admission. Between the needed camaraderie and a culture wildly bent on dysfunction, workplace gambling will always have a place in America.

Enter the Holiday Man Under Pool. Formed as an offshoot of the New Year's Eve citywide homicide pools played in the NYPD for generations, our pool stayed within the boundaries of the command. Because of the greatly reduced area, our pool didn't payout in one violent drunken overnight. In fact, it occasionally took weeks. Harnessing on the uptick of seasonal depression and increased stress, the Holiday Man Under Pool enabled competitors a fair chance to earn a $510 dollar return on a $10 investment. Voluntary participants, from the stationhouse custodian to the commanding offer, randomly picked a number from a jar. Each of the 51 numbers were assigned a specific train station within the command boundaries in Brooklyn, the most populated borough in New York City. Once the number was removed, it remained with the wagerer until the pool terminated. When the body bag was zipped up and placed within the Medical Examiner's meat wagon, another round began. The winner would become an instant celebrity as the standings were placed onto crime map bulletin boards, above bathroom urinals, and prominently displayed inside vending machine glass.

Sometimes a man under would be hotly contested, as a suicide would smartly occur inside a tunnel, on the speeding tracks between stations. In those circumstances, members awaited a group text after a photographic confirmation of the deceased determined which direction the train was headed for station classification. After the round ended, payouts were immediate and the jar was placed on top of the bar that evening and remained in the hatchback of my Jeep for the next round. Some holidays, there would be four families of joyous children benefiting from the misfortune. Other seasons, only one.

In a once-in-a-lifetime event, we had two separate jumpers within the same 15 minute span on Thanksgiving week, scrambling first responders to opposite neighborhoods. While establishing crime scenes and rerouting trains and pedestrian service, cops from the entire borough listened to the frantic police radio for the pronouncent of death on the air. Once established, unauthorized voices were heard transmitting, "who won the pool?" Followed by a chorus of on air chuckles. Even the dispatchers, sitting in Metrotech communication headquarters miles away knew of the pool. 

Of course, some cops were not approving of both the presence of betting and the game of chance in question. That is certainly reasonable, but nobody was ever forced to participate. In fact, capping only 51 contestants to one entry per person disappointed far more people; especially when some eager gamblers were off a few days or away for holiday vacation. To maintain morale, I would drive to other boroughs with the jar or interrupt date nights to accept action and increase holiday joy.

Let's face it, nobody ever calls 911 to express a happy day. The steady exposure to a workplace embedded in violence and misery sets law enforcement apart from any other industry. In order to excel on patrol- or just to survive- takes a special person (The rest are free to transfer to Puzzle Palace). Policing may be a vocation available to all, but the work is certainly not tailored for everyone. Gallows humor is just one coping mechanism to the darkness that lives within urban law enforcers. From a distance, most "uncomfortable" workplace allegations in policing seem ridiculous layered against the situations cops endure daily.

Of course, some civic standards should be expected in the workplace, and those norms are always evolving. But if you're the kind of person offended by violent, crass, racial and even sexual situations that police encounter daily and are often required to bring back into the stationhouse, then maybe you're not ready for policing. Or maybe you just need to recalibrate. Power down and disconnect when needed. Take every vacation you can, but learn to enjoy your time at the office. Maybe that means buying a Superbowl box, or blowing off steam with your colleagues at the pub. And maybe it means snickering as you reach into the jar knowing that you cannot control life's outcomes no matter how much you're there to help others…