Tailing Mister G to the Races

It was Daddy-Daughter day. Apparantly.

The thing about surveillance cases, Dear Reader, is that it can often take you to unexpected places.

Quite literally.

As with this particular case in point. The subject, let's call him Mister G - I don't think I was actually told his name - is a mid-level manager within a national business chain.

It transpired that Company Management had a number of concerns regarding Mister G's work-ethic and wanted some Third-Party confirmation and documentation of his activities.

That is where I came in.

Anyway, Management had some idea that Mister G was going to be taking some time off work to attend a race meeting during the day. He is part of a syndicate that owns a race horse, by all accounts. However, he hadn't requested any leave for the afternoon and Management also had concerns as to how Mister G generally filled in his days since he was hardly ever at the office and would become quite defensive when questioned on the matter.

You get the drift, I'm sure.

Management had requested that I try to physically surveill Mister G throughout the day in question, but understood the risks given a one-up operator, particularly in the very busy, traffic-wise, area where the local offices were located.

Nonetheless, I was in position at the appointed time and proceeded to follow Mister G in his company car as he nosed out onto the main drag. While there was a substantial queue of traffic, I managed to nudge in with one vehicle between us.

All good so far.

But up at the next lights Mister G decided to tear through the yellow at the very last second and the intervening vehicle didn't follow. Curses! And by the time the lights had changed there were around ten vehicles between us and I no longer had a direct line of sight on Mister G.

Typical!

I continued for a while trying to reacquire but it was a total loss. Not entirely unexpected though, truth be told.

Of course the good news is that we had some idea as to where he was going to be that afternoon. There was a race meet on where his horse would be running. Running. Is that even the right term?

At the appointed time I made my way to the racecourse, arriving a little early so as to be able to watch people turn up. As it turned out Mister G's company car was already parked up, under a tree. No sign of him yet though.

So I took a few pics of the vehicle so as to provide some documentary evidence of its location at that date and time - the vehicle is readily identifiable as it is emblazoned with Company markings.

Probably at this point I should come clean and state for the record that I've never been to the races. Any races. Ever. I had no idea what to expect - apart from horses running around a track, obviously. Never really been interested although my father used to place the odd bet. Didn't catch on.

I didn't know how boring they are.

The only thing of interest to note were the number of older gentlemen accompanied by noticeably younger women, all impeccably dressed and tottering around in their high heels, lipstick and mascara perfectly applied.

Must be daddy-daughter day today, I thought.

Uhuh. 

That aside, Mister G made frequent appearances at each race before heading back to the owners' enclosure. I managed to get a number of good pics of him, still wearing his company work shirt featuring a readily-identifiable logo, at the trackside or at the betting window. 

Well, the afternoon wore on, I took more pics, also of the vehicle still in situ, then finally was able to call it quits at around 6pm. Mister G was still somewhere trackside, oblivious to the direction where his life would shortly be heading.

I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.