When I am not working on my novel, or exercising, or working on this site, or let’s be honest playing endless amounts of NBA 2K24, (The Kobe Version) your boy Steviepoooooo is working in the pro shop at his favorite golf course. It has been one of my favorite jobs in a very long time. The perks of free golf aside, the people there have been awesome.
I have thoroughly enjoyed talking to my fellow employees and the golf course customers. One thing that made me a successful banker in my past was my good interpersonal skills. Not only can your boy have a riveting conversation with anyone and everyone, (including myself) your boy is also very good at balancing a mother fucking spreadsheet. That life is in the past. Steviepooooo now writes books and plays golf and does the dishes more often. I do the dishes so my loving wife doesn’t stab me in my sleep. Nothing divides a household like dirty dishes. NOTHING
Another reason I have enjoyed this job is the work environment is far less stressful than working at a large financial institution. Who would have thought right?
That all changed this past weekend when the most stressful situation that I have been a part of at the course occurred. I checked a group of six teenage boys into the course late in the afternoon. I made it crystal clear that they would need to play in a foursome and then a twosome. They could not play in a group of six. This is a common rule on a golf course. The reasoning is there are a lot of golfers on the course at the same time. No more than four golfers can be paired together at the same time in order to keep the pace of play on track.
As typical teenage boys are prone to do these punks started to play together as one big sixsome as soon as they were out of sight of the club house. Little did these little turds know that all the golf carts have GPS in them and I could see almost every move they were making on the course.
The course was super busy, and they were not helping the pace of play continue at a healthy pace. One of my coworkers drives a cart full of cold drinks on the course to sell to golfers. She went out of her way approach to me and report them. She said they were driving recklessly on the course in their golf carts. This was the first of many red flags.
The next flag was when someone on the golf course called to complain about them. They were solidly paired up as a group of six at this point. At times they were still following the rules a little and playing as a foursome and a twosome when other golfers were around. By about the seventh hole this all changed.
They were on the eighth hole when the other golfer called. I told that golfer that they were super young and they had only paid to play nine. The hope was they would leave after the next hole. I would then talk to them and tell them that if they wanted to play at our course again, they would have to do better and could not play as a sixsome ever again. They were once again very young, and I wanted to give them a little slack. I was young once and did things that were MUCH worse than what these kids were doing.
I once got kicked out of a McDonalds at like 1am. Only the people who were with me that day know the reason why. It was one of the most shameful moments of my life. In my defense I was only sixteen and a total fucking moron. The point is we were all punk kids once upon a time and made plenty of mistakes ourselves. I wasn’t going to yell at these kids for being dumb kids.
I can see the green of the ninth hole from the clubhouse. I was watching them like a hawk, possibly like a total creeper, making sure they did not do anything too horrible on the ninth hole. I also wanted to ensure that they did indeed leave like they were supposed to after the ninth hole.
While I was waiting things really escalated when the group that was playing in front of them came into the clubhouse. They said that the little shitheads had hit golf balls into them a few times. They even actually hit one of the golfers in the back when he was in the middle of his swing.
This group was all young men in college. Rather than feel bad for their friend who essentially had just been pelted by a rock, they actually made a video of him writhing in pain on the ground. I’m not going to lie it was pretty fucking funny. Regardless of how funny it was, hitting into the group ahead of you is a huge no no. This was the punks’ second strike.
Once I finished laughing with the college kids about their friend’s misfortune, I turned my full attention back to the troublesome youths on my turf. They finished the ninth hole and conceitedly drove right past the clubhouse towards the tenth tee box.
Like I said earlier those little bastards only paid for nine holes! Not eighteen, not ten, not fourteen. NINE. No more Mr. Niceguy. Steviepoooooo told his coworkers what the situation was and grabbed a golf cart. It was time to strike the fear of God into these delinquents.
A friendly rememinder that I am six and a half feet tall and almost two hundred and eighty pounds of pure American beef.
One of my favorite members of the golf course saw most of these events unfold. He also saw me a little angry for the first time since I started this job. I was well in control but more than a little upset that these kids were trying to essentially steal money from the golf club I love so much.
The member saw me peeling off in a cart to go kick them off the course and offered me his gun. I politely said “No thank you. I do not need a weapon. I am a weapon.” This made him laugh harder than I have seen someone laugh in long time. It also was possibly the coolest thing I have ever done. Why can’t I be this cool all the time?!?!
I soon caught up with the miscreants near the tenth green. They looked terrified as I approached them. All six of them anxiously stared at me booking it towards them in my golf cart. I heroically dismounted from my cart and asked them to confirm their names. Once I confirmed that they were who I thought they were the reprimanding began.
“Our records show that you guys only paid to play nine holes.” I began.
After a long pause the bravest of these toolboxes said “Oh.”
“Yes.” I continued. “I also got a complaint that you guys hit someone with a golf ball?” This statement was greeted with complete silence as the poor kids were positively shaking in fear at this point.
“I know that it was an accident. However, you guys can finish this hole since you are almost done but then you have to leave.” I confidently declared.
The kids to their credit then apologized a few times and then promptly left the course. I think they were more than a little embarassed.
Some of my younger coworkers wish I had taken a more aggressive approach with them. I have found in my life experiences that anger at work accomplishes nothing other than making you look bad. These kids made mistakes and hopefully learned their lesson from a stern reprimand and getting embarrassingly kicked off the golf course. If they tell this story to anyone, they cannot honestly say that a member of our staff was rude to them despite their terrible behavior. This is something I am very proud of as I would have handled this situation very differently a few years ago.
Anger solves nothing. Treating people with respect despite the fact that they are not reciprocating said respect is always the right move. Respect is one of my biggest values. If people would just treat each other with a tiny bit more respect our world would be a much better place.
I hope you enjoyed this story of me scolding kids barely old enough to drive a golf cart.
Please like and subscribe so my mommy will be proud of me. I love you mom happy mother’s day.
A bientot!
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