Sometimes, life throws unexpected opportunities your way—you just have to play it cool and roll with it. Here’s how one unplanned bet at a sports bar turned my friend into a bookie—and one of my best PPH customers.
Seth’s first customer came about in the funniest way. He was hanging out at his usual sports bar, the kind of spot where everybody knows everybody. He was chatting about the game coming up on TV with a guy named Carl, a regular who loved his sports talk. Somewhere along the line, Carl got it in his head that Seth wasn’t just talking odds—he was taking bets.
“Alright, Seth, I’m in for fifty bucks on the game,” Carl said confidently, slapping a crumpled fifty-dollar bill into Seth’s hand.
Seth blinked, staring down at the cash, thinking, *Wait, what? This is real money!* But Carl was all smiles, so Seth just went with it.
Not wanting to blow his cover, Seth nodded, trying to look smooth, and said, “Uh… sure, Carl. Lemme… let me just, uh, check in with my guy on that.”
He pulls out his phone like he’s a big shot, calm and collected, even though his hand’s shaking. And here’s the kicker: there *is* no “guy.” Seth’s just staring at his empty screen, pretending he’s texting some imaginary pro on the other end.
After a solid minute of fake typing, he looks up, pockets the fifty, and gives Carl a serious nod, “Alright, you’re locked in, man. Fifty on the game.” He’s sweating bullets, but Carl? Carl’s buying it, no questions asked.
And wouldn’t you know it—the game goes their way that night. Carl’s over the moon, spreading the word that Seth’s got the “hookup.” A week later, Seth’s got guys lining up, fifty bucks each, saying, “Hey, man, can you get in touch with your guy for me?” Just like that—boom—Seth’s got himself a business, all because he played it cool with one guy in one bar.
Looking back, Seth just laughs and says, “Hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right? That night, I was the most legit bookie in the sports bar… if only they knew.”
Seth’s first customer came about in the funniest way. He was hanging out at his usual sports bar, the kind of spot where everybody knows everybody. He was chatting about the game coming up on TV with a guy named Carl, a regular who loved his sports talk. Somewhere along the line, Carl got it in his head that Seth wasn’t just talking odds—he was taking bets.
“Alright, Seth, I’m in for fifty bucks on the game,” Carl said confidently, slapping a crumpled fifty-dollar bill into Seth’s hand.
Seth blinked, staring down at the cash, thinking, *Wait, what? This is real money!* But Carl was all smiles, so Seth just went with it.
Not wanting to blow his cover, Seth nodded, trying to look smooth, and said, “Uh… sure, Carl. Lemme… let me just, uh, check in with my guy on that.”
He pulls out his phone like he’s a big shot, calm and collected, even though his hand’s shaking. And here’s the kicker: there *is* no “guy.” Seth’s just staring at his empty screen, pretending he’s texting some imaginary pro on the other end.
After a solid minute of fake typing, he looks up, pockets the fifty, and gives Carl a serious nod, “Alright, you’re locked in, man. Fifty on the game.” He’s sweating bullets, but Carl? Carl’s buying it, no questions asked.
And wouldn’t you know it—the game goes their way that night. Carl’s over the moon, spreading the word that Seth’s got the “hookup.” A week later, Seth’s got guys lining up, fifty bucks each, saying, “Hey, man, can you get in touch with your guy for me?” Just like that—boom—Seth’s got himself a business, all because he played it cool with one guy in one bar.
Looking back, Seth just laughs and says, “Hey, fake it ‘til you make it, right? That night, I was the most legit bookie in the sports bar… if only they knew.”
