Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Long freakin' day

Got into work around 7:30 this morning.

Joked around with the guys, watched some golf, and after a little while, I started to realize how slow it was going to be today. The last couple of days brought rain, and although it wasn't raining today, I knew people were thinking it was going to be very wet. So that meant I was checking my watch every half hour, wondering how much longer I could stay there. Around 11:30, I was definitely at the end of my rope.

But there was word of a foursome. Great.

Well, yes, I really wanted to leave. But apparently three of these guys weren't members, which meant that they would have to tip a little more than normal because the caddies couldn't receive their normal bag fee (all caddies receive a small fee per bag, per round when caddying for members).

That meant some cold hard cash. Sweet. I'm in.

I went over to the range to meet the other caddie and the four guys I'd be seeing 5 hours of today. They all seemed nice, but I was a little skeptical about their playing abilities. And sure enough, the other caddie told me I'd be carrying the two bags with the worst swings. And one was a lefty. I mean, I got nothing against lefty's, I just can't comprehend how the hell they hit the ball. That's just weird. Why don't they stand on the other side of the ball like everybody else?

But the round progressed pretty well. Pretty slowly, but pretty well. One of my players was pissed half the time and ended up breaking his pitching wedge in half on the 12th. He screwed up on 11, and he looked like he wanted to break it over his knee right then and there. But he held back.

Hey man, I know the club didn't do anything to you, and it was all your fault, but MAN. That went way the hell over the green. Do it. That club has been an asshole to you today. It's laughing at you. You couldn't hit it if the clubhead had a sweet spot as big as your head. But hey, that's just my own personal opinion.

And then he broke it over his knee on 12 after a flubbed chip. I mean, I don't know about him, but I felt satisfied.

The lefty ended up being surprisingly good. He wasn't very strong, but he was a damn good putter. With every read the other caddie gave him, he was dead on. As long as the other caddie read it for him, he made it. I learned that very quickly, and that's why I stopped reading putts altogether after the 5th hole. I suck at reading putts. I suck at reading putts when I'm the one making the swings. I wouldn't want to put that on somebody else any more than I have to.

Oh yeah, random thought: my boss ripped a really loud fart when he came in this morning. And of the two or three I've heard out of him, I have to say, he's consistent. Bravo. Both the cheeks AND the ass-hair were clenched and positioned correctly to emit the same distinct explosion. Sounded kind of wet actually. Hope he didn't stain his pants.

But anyway, moving along.

By the 14th, I was ready to die. The day turned out to be really nice, and I was wearing a black jacket underneath my bib and the sun was baking me. The bags started growing exponentially in mass. And yes, of course they would have to split me at this moment. Lefty hit a decent drive, but Happy Gilmore over here skanked yet ANOTHER tee shot right. He was so pissed. "What the hell!!? What am I doing??" Well, first of all, you set up to the ball with the driver face WIDE OPEN. Which meant you'd either slice it or duck hook it trying to compensate. Square that bitch up and stop your whining.

But they both repaid me on 16. They both hit the green and stuck it about 10-15 feet from the hole. And from then on, it was pretty much smooth sailing. Even with all the complaining from my players (they were both mad at their performance), they said they had a great time. And it really was. I mean, I'm tired, hungry, and wind-burned, but you know, I could definitely think of worse places to be. I think I'm starting to enjoy this job whether I'd like to admit it or not.

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