No. 12: Advice to Gen Z Cart Kid

dear pards,

i just got my first job, working outside services at my local country club. pretty mid tbh, think like $10k to join with no waitlist. i’m realizing there’s lowkey way more to this job than i thought when i applied. i was expecting to just vibe, loading bags on carts and driving the picker (which ngl looks fun af). instead i spend most of my shifts washing carts that members destroy, emptying nasty trash, scraping sand off everything, and getting torched by old guys pissed about me not having their push cart ready when they show up unannounced. the older guys i work with are god tier at knowing all the members and their whole deal. whose bag goes on where, who’s extra about towels, etc. i’m trying not to be trash, but fr can’t tell what these golfers actually care about. so from someone who’s been around the game, any advice for a cart kid trying to learn the ropes?

-sand-filled sambas in santee

Dear Sand-Filled Sambas,

As a retired cart rat, let me lead off by empathizing with your often unseen efforts as the true lifeblood of the green-grass ecosystem. There are two types of outside services staff: the pompous prep-school kid simply strapping bags to carts, half-assing club cleans with dry towels, and then holding out his hand for dough; and the kid who isn't afraid to both schmooze with the members and roll up his sleeves and grind in the damp, subterranean cart barn beneath the pro shop. You don't sound like a complete lost cause. Though without proper counsel and the use of proper punctuation, I worry you may find yourself on the side of the spectrum that none of us have much empathy for.

I know the job post said you'd be working the bag drop, picking the range, hosing off carts, and playing free golf. It sounds like you're realizing the reality looks more like scraping cigarette butts out of cup holders. Excavating wet sand from the floorboards of carts. Unclogging grass-filled ball washers. Pulling the picker out of puddles on the range. And fishing half-eaten apples out of the rear bag well. All to be rewarded with $10 an hour and the stray Coors Light left sweating in a cart cooler.

At the end of the day, you have a top-10 high school job. Joke about the jabronis with the rest of the staff, and show up with a smile, knowing you just might land a job with one of them someday.

Without much more preaching, I'll leave you with one small piece of advice as you prep your next cart for play. You can skip the ice in the cooler. Forget the damp green towel behind the sand bottle (though that is a nice touch). Heck, don't even hit it with the hose. But whatever you do, don't give out a dull writing utensil.

Your favorite pencil-whipper,

P╞r╠℮

P.S. This week’s Postage Stamp is the Cradle, set beside the main clubhouse of the Pinehurst Resort, by Dave Baysden. If you’d like a copy, you can grab it here.