**Closing down the golf shop the day before**
Holy shit I can’t believe we did 180 rounds. Don’t these people have lives. Christ. There goes getting home early. Oh well, at least I don’t have to be back here until 7:00 tomorrow. Too bad I can’t do anything with that because I won’t get out of here until motherfucking 9:30.
**7:45PM, leaving the parking lot**
“That wasn’t so bad. Shit, I wonder what I should do with all this time. I could see who’s in town. I bet there’s a couple bars open, maybe grab a bite, hell I could even go out, be home by 1-1:30 and be just fine for tomorrow. Fuck yeah let’s do this.”
**7:20AM Thanksgiving morning, hungover**
“That sucked. God I hope today’s light.”
**A tall, trimly built gray haired and professional looking man in an Erin Hills hat and Augusta National pullover strides eagerly into the shop and leans over the counter.**
“How’s it going, how can I help you?”
“Yeah we’re the 9:30 group, we’re a little early.”
“Yeah, okay, did you want to check i-”
“We’re going to have some breakfast first is your grill open, do they have food ready?”
“No they’re closed today.”
“Why? We didn’t see anything on your website that it would be closed.”
“It’s Thanksgiving sir.”
“Well can we get off early? We’re here early.”
“Did you want to hit any range balls?”
“I don’t know. That’s not really what we had planned. I guess give us a bucket.”
“What size bucket did you want?”
“I don’t know give me whatever you have, a large I guess. Hey, yeah their grill isn’t open, yeah I know they didn’t post that when I made the tee time.”
“My large has 150 balls in it sir is that okay?”
“No, I don’t need that many, Jesus Christ. Give me a small.”
“Okay here’s your cart key and your range balls, thank you sir.”
“So what’s our new tee time, are you going to get us out there early?”
“Well sir I do have foursomes up until your time, if you want to tee off now we’d have to get you to the tee right away, is your group all here?”
“No we’re waiting on two more to get here. So no breakfast and you can’t get us out early huh. Alright,,,thanks.”
**Aggressive double birds to the back of the group’s heads as they walk out.**
“Wow fuck YOU dude. Fuck, no wonder you’re up here your wife probably kicked your ass out of the house. Miserable prick.”
*Two hours and six groups later*
“Thank you for calling the golf shop how can I help you.”
“Yeah we’re open.”
“My latest? It’s, uhhhhhhhh, it’s a 12:00PM.”
“Ok, how many.”
“Ok, 12:00PM for two. Got it.”
Uuuuugggggghh I guarantee these assholes are going to take five fucking hours to play. Fuck that, I’m dragging their asses off the course at 4:00PM sharp.
**12:30PM, first groups are arriving from 18 green.**
**A short older gentlemen walks paternally up to give a much too friendly pat on the back**
“So when are you getting out of here?”
“Hopefully around 4 or so.”
“You got some family to go be with?”
“No my parents are too far to go see, but my girlfriend is here, her family is having dinner around 1.”
“Well hopefully they save you a couple pieces of turkey. Shame you couldn’t see your folks. Take care now.”
“Yeah, maybe I’ll see em for—”
**The member is much too far out of earshot by now to hear the despondent pities of a lowly club pro, having long ago tuned out his response as he felt a pat on the back and superficial conversation a sufficient penance for keeping a staff from their families today.**
**4:45PM, the last cart pulls into the parking lot from 18 as the sky has now definitively faded from afternoon to sunset**
These stupid motherfuckers. What the fuck were they doing out there, camping?? Fuck. Do they not fucking realize I have to be back up here at 5:00AM?? They’re going to be lucky if I don’t wring their damn necks when they get up here.
**A late 50’s academic in an obviously older college sweatshirt brings the cart to the clubhouse and starts pulling mineral water bottles and Clif bar wrappers out of the cubbies.**
“Thanks for letting us out, this is a first rate track you got here. Sorry to keep you, we tried to rush the last couple holes. So is this your course?”
“Uhh I’m just the pro, our Director of Golf is off today.”
“Ahh well we’ll have to come back when he’s here and visit with him about this top notch course he’s got, maybe get some tips. Anyways you take care, hope the turkey’s warm when you get home.”
“Yeah have a great day sir. Thanks for coming to see us, Happy Thanksgiving!”
POS. Hope he never comes back. Wtf kind of question is that, is this your course? Of course not motherfucker, none of those assholes with the GM have seen the sun set on this golf course since they got hired. Yeah, this is my course, I own all this shit and I just decided out of the kindness of my heart to work it by myself. Idiot.
**6:30PM, two plates of warmed thanksgiving and a third beer in hand.**
“Thanks babe, I’m sorry I missed dinner with your parents, tell your mom thank you again. This is delicious.” Yeah, your dad texted me about going out to the lease with him and your brother but I have to be at work at 5:00 to open the shop. Yeah, I know I’ve turned him down every weekend but it’s not because I hate the idea of spending all weekend drunk and killing everything, I have to work. We’ve got 220 rounds on the tee sheet. Hopefully by 2, shouldn’t be any later than 2:30, definitely in time to have lunch with your mom.”
**10:45PM, in bed, scrolling social media**
Damn, Scott got a whole fucking week off for Thanksgiving. What the fuck was I thinking getting into the golf business, I don’t even like golf that much, I suck at it, haven’t shot under par in damn near a year.
*scrolls down, sees post about Tiger*
“Fuck yeah Big Cat let’s go BABAY”.
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