Alas, the time has come. You made it. You graduated. Against all odds, you crossed the finish line. You were crawling, but you crossed it. Now it’s time for the real world.
You landed your first corporate job. The pay is shitty, you can’t stand most of the people you work with, and you have to spend 45 hours every week in a miserable cubicle constructed of harsh reality and tempered dreams. It’s not all shitty though. For one, you get paid. And if you’re able to swing a club without looking like a complete fuck stain, the corporate golf outing can be one of the few enjoyable moments in your life. It just sucks that you have to play with guys from the office. Everyone has to deal with the same stereotypical slap-dicks. Who are these assholes? Well, that’s what I’m here to tell you.
The Humble Scratch Golfer
Larry from sales is the humble scratch golfer in your office. He’s learned from his years in sales not to be the pompous, overbearing dickhead that no one wants to be around. He’s just a sly, smooth talking son of a bitch.
“Nah, I’m not that good. What are we doing here? Scramble? Acey Ducey? I don’t care whose team I’m on. Doesn’t matter to me. Just ready to get out of the office, kick back and have some fun.”
Larry is really damn good. If he gives you the “I don’t even know how I’m playing this well” modesty shrug after sticking the pin again, you should probably murder him.
“Just getting really lucky, guys. Promise.” Seriously just fuck off, Larry.
The dude is one over at the turn. I say HE is one over, because he hasn’t used a single one of his partner’s shots yet. Who is his partner? The “I’m just having a bad round” golfer.
The “I’m Just Having a Bad Round” Golfer
Garrett from accounting is the third member of your fucked up fivesome. He’s just your average office geek that drives a Camry, brings his lunch to work and carries his Blackberry on his belt.
“Yeah, I mean I’m pretty good. I think I was like four or five over the last time I played, even though I putted poorly. Haven’t played since the summer though. Plus it’s been a really long time since I’ve had a lesson.”
Apparently Garrett is a great golfer that just can’t find his stroke today.
“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me today dudes. I usually nail that shot every time.”
Garrett, we’re not buying it, man. You’re playing like dick, and your swing makes you look like a less-athletic Charles Barkley with epilepsy. It’s absolutely heinous. He’s not to be outdone by the next around-the-office golf character, though.
The Golfer With Way Too Much Gear
This is Eugene, also in sales. Eugene strives to be like Larry, except Larry hates his guts. He’s not as successful, so he tries to compensate by looking the part. He’s not fooling you though. Eugene has gloves on both hands, bright yellow golf shoes, a wristband, a Titleist high-profile visor (that he probably copied from Larry), clubhead covers for all his irons, and the R-11 driver before that fucker even came out. Of course he’s hitting Pro V-1s, five of which he has already lost.
“Here you go, man. I found this Pinnacle over by a tree. You want it?” Yeah thanks, dick.
Eugene is a 16 handicap, annoying as shit, and will not stop talking about Deborah from HR, his newest client, and the jet ski he’s saving up for. As annoying as he is though, he doesn’t touch “zero etiquette” golfer.
The Zero Etiquette Golfer
Barry is VP of the company, and he’s the “zero etiquette” golfer in your group. After this round, you’ll wonder how the hell he got to where he is. He somehow manages to be both obnoxious and socially awkward at the same torture-fucking time. He’s oblivious to the rules of his environment, even at the place where this underrated attribute is perhaps most important: the golf course. Anyone with at least 10 rounds of golf under his belt understands the importance of knowing how to act on a golf course. It’s a gentleman’s game, for fuck’s sake.
You will learn to hate Barry. Actually, he’s the one member of your group that actually helps establish a sense of camaraderie among the others. Everyone develops a seething hatred for this clueless asshole, and the group becomes collectively closer because of his ability to inspire such hatred.
He does it all: walks in your line, answers his cell phone during your backswing, talks while you’re trying to sink a birdie putt, claims every tee box, and drives the cart up next to the green.
Seriously, screw Barry.
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