The city golf course is an off-color song that gets better every time you play it. You find the rich and poor willing to spend 20 dollars to kill 4 hours on a hot summer day. Men wave-down the cart girl to buy ice-cold beer.

“Will that be all boys?” She asks.

Usually one of them gives her his phone number and she works the group like a pro. Jenny can sell beer and make you feel special at the same time. The men smoke cheap cigars in the shade of the old maple tree while the maintenance crew prepares the course. These tired men in worn work clothes are invisible to those of influence in starched polo shirts who compare the time of day to show-off their Rolex watches.

When I started working as a cart kid, I didn’t have my driver’s license because my past experiences operating machinery were disastrous. I left that out of the job interview. There was the time I lost control of my grandma’s three-wheeler, crashing it through her raspberry patch and running myself over in the alfalfa field.

Anyway, my first day as a cart kid began without any problems.

I parked clean golf carts at a 60-degree angle by the number 1 tee. It was easy enough. There was the break and there was the gas. But then Jenny arrived. She was wearing really short cut-off jeans and a flannel checkered shirt tied above her waist. “Will you take me to the pro shop?” She asked. Jenny got in before I could answer. She smelled like cherries and I hit the gas. “Is this your first day?” She asked. Jenny stared at me with her dark brown eyes and I looked back, intoxicated. “Slow down!” She screamed. And I slammed the break, but it was the gas and we launched into the pro shop.

I grabbed Jenny to keep her in the cart and felt her silky skin. We dented the door. I knew I was fired. And all of the golfers on the practice green laughed. But then the head pro came out and looked at the damage. “You’re just getting a handle of her, aren’t you?” He said. Mike had a wide grin on his face. After that, my reckless driving became legendary. Every new cart kid I trained got lectured about not picking up beautiful women and pulling a “Johnson”.

4 thoughts on “My Most Embarrassing Moment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s