by Trey Nosrac

“Trey was a pioneer,” I said.

My pal rolled his eyes and asked, “Why do you always refer to yourself in the third person?”

“Trey says it’s dramatic.”

“It’s off-putting and confusing. Did you know the technical term for a person who refers to themselves in the third person is an illeist? When Richard Nixon said, ‘You won’t have Nixon to kick around anymore, because, gentlemen, this is my last press conference,’that was an illeism.”

I gave a return eye roll and said, “Trey says the only time a dude should use obscure terms is while trying to pick up a hot librarian.”

“Yet another illeism. You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m consistent. Did you ever see the Seinfeld episode where Elaine accidentally agrees to a date with Jimmy, some smarmy goofball from her gym? When the sleazy guy said to her, “You’re just Jimmy’s type.” Elaine thought he was talking about a different man, an Adonis from her gym.

He chuckled, “Yeah, funny show. And Dizzy Dean, the St. Louis Cardinal’s baseball pitcher, always referred to himself as Ol’ Diz.”

I nodded, “Nice touch, not only the third person but third person with a nickname.”

“Enough, “he said, “What kind of pioneer?”

“Trey was one of the original gig workers. I met you driving Uber. Before that, I gigged as a survey taker, sign holder, lawn worker, bouncer, freelancer, dog walker, audience plant for a comedian, cat sitter, and golf caddie.”

He said, “Next year, gig jobs will account forhalfof the workforce.”

I sighed, “That ain’t good. It’s a hard-luck life for gig workers. Tomorrow’s pink slip is only a day away.”

“Are you auditioning for Annie?”

“No Mister Warbucks, but it’s a vicious world when next week is always a guess and when you occasionally need food, a roof over your head, and doctors. All in all, gig work is like slavery with apps.”

“The average gig economy worker earns less than $10,000 a year.”

I circled back to my point, “Harness racing has a fair share of gig workers. The sport needs one more category – gig semen sales rep.”

“And how will that work?”

“A stallion owner recruits me. He finds my name posted on one of the six thousand internet job posting sites using an ad.”

“And what type of contract terms does a part-time semen salesperson command?”

“Trey says a base salary of enough to possibly keep one out from under a bridge. Say, $1,000 dollars over two-month increments.”

“That’s just over $100 a week. Would you work for that?”

“Yes. In fact, Trey would work hard, because part of my contract states that 40 per cent of each successful breeding that I am responsible for would be earmarked for me.”

“Don’t forget that until a live foal is on the ground, the buyer does not pay. That means that even if you make a sale, you wouldn’t see the commission money for more than a year.”

“Trey says this is excellent. I will not blow the cash immediately. This pregnant mare would be as close as I ever get to an IRA or hedge fund.”

“Okay, let’s say you get this bizarre gig. Where would you begin?”

“With data and inventiveness, followed by contacting susceptible relatives and close friends – sort of like selling real estate or life insurance.”

“You drain that little pool of prospects quickly, then what?”

“I purchase an unlimited pathway account, round up every scrap of data from every state racing program, data from thoroughbred organizations, from farms that have training centers and breeding farms that do not have racing. I would create more lists than Santa Claus. My lists would be broodmare owners inside the business, plus potential clients outside the business. My first few weeks on this semen gig would be as much data collection as possible. Here’s a shortlist.”

Who currently owns a broodmare?

What state does the broodmare reside in?

Has this person had sole or multiple ownership?

How does ownership communicate?

Current hobbies?

Other organizations?

Previous employment history?

Previous hobbies?

State of residency?

Urban or suburban residency?

Multiple residencies?

Have an aged mare racing?

Charitable contributions?

Previous broodmare ownership?

Never owned a broodmare?

Approximate wealth?

Previous friends or family involved in sport?

Adventurous or cautious personality type?

Clubs or organization memberships?

He listened and said, “Did you know, that at this moment,Facebook can classify roughly 52,000 traits from every one of us.”

“Maybe I’ll give Zuckerberg a call. Do you have his number? I’ll put him on my sales Hot Prospect list. If I snag a fish like Zuckerberg and lure him into the game, my gigging days are over.”