As perceived by a non-flogger
I have no business doing business. Least of all, while carrying sticks and chasing rubber balls into the woods. But I have seen countless movies and TV episodes that present this as normalized activity. With that in mind, and fully cognizant of my lack of pertinent knowledge, I did what any wise man does: I asked Google.
Page after page, all extolling the need to walk around on well-mown lawns while setting up your next big deal. It seems that there’s a “ballet” involved, where making the wrong move and throwing a temper tantrum (or one of those expensive sticks) can quash the deal. There seems to be a mythical back story, where the handshake won’t happen unless you play fair, avoid the twenty-stroke round (no birdie, I guess) and convince your partners that you are wise, athletic, good at finding lost spheres in the underbrush. Etc.
I guess I’m fortunate, even if not fortuned. My role in the business world is that of the mundane client. I won’t have to impress for success; just make sure that I pay promptly for everything. And on the upside, I will be avoiding contact with the chemical soup required to keep a golf course green. That includes the greens. And the flag holes. And the anemic carts that have little speed or stability, based on a few of the movies.
Do my kids play golf? Doubtful. We are not “businessers” (is that the word)? Entrepreneurs? In any case, when they bury me under the personalized stone, no golfers will have to miss a round on my behalf.
