The country club isn’t always a great place to find girls, especially girls my age. Not many 18 or 19 year old chicks hang out at a golf course or the tennis courts unless their parents drag them for some lame brunch. For that reason, my summer job as a caddy was the worst. While my friends were off ogling girls in bikinis while they worked as a lifeguard, I was following middle-aged men around, carrying their golf bags as they knocked back Coors Light after Coors Light. The days were long, the sun was hot, and though I made some decent money, I was bored to tears and tired as hell. June dragged on and July was even worse. There was no way in hell I was going to come back to this crappy job next summer.
All of that changed the second week of August. Mr. Schmidt, one of the club’s top golfers, called me on Monday night and told me there was to be a change for his tee time the following morning. Instead of Mr. Schmidt, his two co-workers, and his chief client, Mrs. Schmidt and three other women from the country club would be taking the spot. When he said this, I was hopeful that he would tell me not to come in, but instead, he asked me to caddy for the four women. I naturally agreed, as my work wouldn’t change that drastically at all. I’d still be carrying clubs either way.