This is the guy who breaks his putter in a tournament and then discovers he needs that club for the rest of the tournament and by rules of the game cannot borrow from anyone . . . well, duh!

You’ve probably heard about the guy who gets so mad he throws his clubs into the water, bag and all . . . then he has to go into the water to retrieve the bag because he left his keys in it. Well, the tantrum I witnessed was like this: This guy is walking off the green, blinded by his anger. He’s cussing and swinging his putter and kicking the grass up. Making quite a mess of it, in point of fact. Meanwhile, his cart partner is in the bathroom and the others are ordering drinks from me. (Coincidence? I think not.) Anyway, he walks up to his clubs and starts pulling them out and bending the shafts on the side of the cart. I say to his friends, “Man, he must be really mad, he’s breaking his clubs!” One of the guys drops the drink I just handed him and goes running up to him, screaming, “Stop, you fucker, those are MY clubs!” We all gasp.

You know they have medication for people like this!

Click for larger image.

This, my friends, is the guy who silently walks from the hole, ball and putter in hand, face burning red, and has to sit in his cart, unable to move. Enter the cart girl, me, who unknowingly asks if he is all right. He looks up. Holy crud, the dude is CRYING! There’s no crying in golf! It’s freaking golf. How in the world can you cry over GOLF! Okay, I kind of stole that little bit, but it works here too and it’s true. This is the guy who is so wrapped up in how badly he’s playing that he mistakenly drives his cart over a cliff and breaks his leg. He’s so old that he has to be airlifted off the course. That’s actually sad, really.

This is the guy who gets so mad at me because I refuse to serve him another Bloody Mary that he forfeits the game and complains to the head pro of my accusations that he is too drunk. Guess what, I still have my job! I should have taken his keys, too.

This is the guy who tees off to the left into the trees. He goes into the woods and hits his ball and manages to get the ball stuck in the branches. Thinking he can get the ball down by tossing his ball skyward, he now has his ball and his club stuck up there. Now the dilemma: Does he find a better way or does he continue to chuck clubs up in the branches? I am a true believer that history has a way of repeating itself and in this guy's case, the lesson was not learned the first time. Up went another club and stuck went that club. Now he’s cussing and scratching his head and his partner is fed up waiting for him and leaves. Enter Cart girl. I drive over, climb up on top of my cart and with a club in my hand rescue his other clubs and ball. Grown men can act like such babies!

There you have it, some of my experiences during the treacherous, yet exciting, journey through your golf course as your favorite - or not-so-favorite, you be the judge - beverage cart girl! I’ll see you out there if you make it to my course and I will try my best to make you happy. But buyers are warned; you might just make it into book two!

Then again, you just might like that. . . .

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