You know what they say: a bad day of golf is still better than a good day of work, especially if your work is one of these 12 gigs.
BEVERAGE CART DRIVER AT BOOZY CORPORATE OUTING
If there’s anything more awkward than the ham-fisted flirtations of a pudgy middle-aged man with booze on his breath, it’s the wan smile on the face of a patient young woman mixing yet another cocktail for her sloppy suitor and wondering when her shift will ever end.
RULES OFFICIAL IN FINAL GROUP OF MAJOR
The way tournaments have been going these days, odds are something’s going to happen—and when it does, you best know the 600-plus pages of the Decision on the Rule of Golf like you do your kids’ birthdays.
DRIVING RANGE PICKER
Like Mad Max on a fuel run, he heads out in his rickety, jerry-rigged ride, fully aware of the grim fate that awaits him. In an instant he is spotted by club-wielding barbarians with bucket-loads of ammo and brainless ambitions. On the course, these heathens rarely hit a green in regulation. But on the range they unleash screamers with frightening precision, whooping in celebration as they rattle the mesh cage around our hero, who, regardless of what he’s earning, should really be getting paid a whole lot more.
COURSE AMBASSADOR AT JAM-PACKED RESORT
Though it may sound grandiose, “ambassador” is an apt title for a role that strains even the finest diplomatic skills. Pressed by antsy golfers to get things moving, our on-course Kissinger drives ahead for delicate negotiations with a stubborn, sluggish foursome, who remind him haughtily that they’ve paid their $400 so they’ll take six hours if they damn well please. Ever tactful, even in the face of such surly nonsense, our ambassador strikes a statesman-like balance between persistence and politeness. But he has no real power. As the pace of play crawls on, he rides away muttering to himself, “You came out of retirement for this?”
CADDIE ON THE BAG OF ARROGANT HACK
A caddie’s job is to keep up and shut up. That part’s easy. The hard part comes when the player does neither, banging balls all over the planet while droning on incessantly about himself and his game. Being the insufferable fellow that he is, he also blames his looper for misreading putts that he barely gets rolling and misclubbing him on irons that he flat-out shanks. He caps the miserable day by failing to tip.
LOWEST RANKING CADDIE IN THE CADDYSHACK
Forced to wait all day for a single loop, he finally gets one. It turns out to be the guy described above.
CAMERA OPERATOR IN CHERRY PICKER
As if an eight-hour shift under a broiling sun isn’t hard enough, there’s nowhere to relieve yourself. Well, expect for that Gatorade bottle.
HEAD PRO AT SUFFOCATINGLY STUFFY PRIVATE CLUB
He got into this line of work because he loved the game, not because he dreamed of playing yes-man to a pack of self-important Judge Smails-types who find reason to complain in everything from the speed of the greens and plushness of the fairways to the offending branches of a 300-year-old oak tree they’re bent on seeing removed.
ASSISTANT PRO WHO HAS NEVER HAD A WEEKEND OFF
The last time he played, he shot a tidy 67. That was 11 years ago.
BALL-HAWKER DIVING INTO GATOR-INFESTED WATER HAZARDS
On the one hand, we respect the bravery and bull-headedness required to don a wetsuit and plunge into a festering, predator-filled pond in the hopes of recovering some ProV1s, which reliably re-sell for as much as a buck each. On the other hand, we wonder: has your brain gone cloudy from the bends?
Courtesy of Josh Jens (golf.com)
