So, I work on a golf course. Sure, it may be the least conducive environment to creativity but alas, the bills need payin’ yo. Anyhow — a golf course is a place that is literally just grass(I am aware of the obvious nature of this statement, SHUT IT). The entire day is spent, cutting, watering, feeding, killing, cutting, watering, feeding, killing, reviving, cutting…watering…feed…kil… you get it…
As members carry their little metal sticks and even smaller white balls, they often have no understanding of the living, breathing, and thriving environment that is neatly laid out ahead in 18 (sometimes 36) holes.
BAHHHH ‘scary sounds’ ‘walls shaking’. WAKE UP, I know dis boring but dis get better just hang in there.
I have no grudge against golfers, I play myself, albeit not very often but I do play. My issue is the money spent to be a member of a golf course and the lack of respect that often follows. I once heard a colleague say that golfers when they drive to the course, take their brain out of their skull and leave it in the car park.
Hmm.
Why do humans pay thousands of dollars to walk around a paddock that cost’s millions of dollars to maintain, that's worth tens of millions of dollars to its owners to simply, exclude care for the property they inhabit.
There is unspoken agreement on most golf courses that players maintain a certain etiquette when they walk on. They repair divots, they repair pitch marks, they dress smartly, and use designated paths and driving areas to reduce damage to turf. However, the majority don't follow.
I know this story is meaningless to the people who have no interest in golfing (to use an American term) but, I mean… just. WHY.
My work on what basically could be considered a big backyard is the opposite of difficult. It can be hard, I can walk around most days trying to find answers to unanswerable questions. I can stand on a putting green hose in hand and watch golfers drag their spiked shoes across the million-dollar surface we work rain, hail, or shine to make sure is prepped nicely for them and I can think. I can weigh up whether hosing them down is the right move, or I could just walk off, take a deep breath and bash my head against the steering wheel of my utility cart.
I love my job. I love what it means to care for such precious land. I love the battle we face when the Australian summer hits hard, or the winter mornings frost over. All I can say is, golfers are, and always will be, the worst thing for a golf course.
Anyway. It's just grass, ain't it?
