Horserace

A tri-summer event, the horserace was a rare mixing of beer and golf.  Men would sign up weeks in advance to make sure they got to take part in these cherished events. 

The rules:  Approximately 20 men partnered up and all 20 played the same hole at once, starting at either hole 1 or hole 10 with all 20 groups and ending on 9 or 18 with 2 groups and a lot of drunk men. (As this was often a very popular event at the club, they usually had two horseraces, the first starting at hole 1 and the second starting at hole 10.)  Each team alternated shots per member and the goal was to race through each hole.  The real goal was to drink a lot of beer. 

So, the afternoon beverage cart shifts for this particular horserace were being covered by Kelsey and Amy, thus they would cover the horserace. On these days it was a requirement to go back in early and restock the cart with lots and lots of beer, couldn't get enough beer. As the two rushed in to stock up before the event, Tur quickly reminded them of his superior management skills by telling them they needed to do one more round.  Amy's cart was fully stocked with beer (no gatorade or water), so Kelsey was quickly deemed 'it'.  She begged Amy to go with her though, as one of the rowdy members had been taunting her all afternoon by calling her over to where he was standing and then telling her he would get his refill in the halfway house. Oh the always lovely and delightful Mr. Collingsworth. 

The girls had an uneventful drive around the back nine and approached 18, Amy could see Kelsey's face turning red as she approached the Assholes on their final hole.  The men came into view and both girls could see Mr. Collingsworth beckoning.  His hand waving ever so slightly in the breeze indicating his desire to get something from the cart.  Unfortunately, Kelsey was not as calm as Collingsworth, by this point her face resembled that of a tomato and she apppeared to be doing the Cruella Deville drive with her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, her foot pushing the gas pedal to the floor and her face staring madly at the resolute golfer. 

"Hold on tight Amy!" she says.

"Uh, what? Maybe you ought to slow down a bit Kelsey, we're getting close..."

All of a sudden the beverage cart is racing across the 18th hole, about 5 yards from Collingsworth, Kelsey showing no intent to slow down.  Amy starts to panic.  As Amy was sitting on the side of the cart that also held the large ice chest with candy bars and gatorade in it, her feet could only rest against the dash of the cart and she could only hold on with her right arm to the small arm rest on the side of the cart.  About 5 feet from Collingsworth Kelsey, still flooring it, cuts the cart to the left, hard.  Both Amy and the ice chest fly out of the cart.  Collingsworth and his cohorts immediately start belting out laughing. 

Kelsey's face is redder than a tomato as she hisses, 'Amy, what are you doing? You were supposed to hold on. Get in here now'.

Collingworth quickly adds, 'Kelsey, I'll just get my beer in the halfway house,' as he and the men continue to howl with delight.

Amy jumps up, still not clear what happened, grabs the ice chest, throws the contents back in, and jumps in the cart.  Both realizing they are very short on time before the horserace they hurry back to the dungeon.  Filling up their carts, they realize they only went around the back 9 and Kelsey talks Amy into driving the front nine while she finishes stocking. 

Grumbling, Amy heads out at a much too fast speed, realizing Kelsey will now get to choose the better of the two horseraces to work.*  Finally, rounding number 3 she's still flooring it, refusing to take her foot off the pedal until she can see the dungeon again.  As a cute bunch of guys can be seen chipping on over the hill, she finds herself at a dilemna. Slow down and fulfill beverage cart rule #2 - flirt with any and every cute guy, or make it to the clubhouse in time to possibly get a decent horserace.  Hmm. They are quickly approaching, and they are very cute.  Suddenly, one of them flags her down.  Now she has to stop, but she's going too fast, she's about to pass them.  She cuts the steering wheel hard to the left, because why not impress them with both her cute outfit and her keen driving skills.  Unfortunately, it was too sharp at too fast a speed. The ice chest flies out of the cart and the contents go everywhere.  She is immediately mortified and a very similar shade of tomato red that Kelsey managed to muster not 10 minutes earlier.  How lovely. 

Cute guy #1 says, 'Uh, I just wanted a refill on my ice cup, I didn't need the whole chest.'

Cue all cute guys on hole number 3 to erupt in laughter.

All men are assholes, she reminds herself.  At least, all men golfers. 

The second guy, remarkably less cuter - shocking, comes over to help her.  They get everything back in the ice chest, and she hops back in, thanks the less cute guy, snubs the cute one, and puts the pedal to the metal. 

After an uneventful final two holes Amy returns to the clubhouse and notices Kelsey is nowhere to be found.  She has obviously gone to find the horserace with the most drunkards before Amy can get to them.  Begrudgingly Amy restocks her cart and heads out to find the unattended golfers. 

In the horserace that she found there were only a few players of consequence, they are as follows:

The assholes:  Collingsworth, Genzer, and Hackler...obviously they would be drinking, but not enough to dull the pain...or tip. 
Dave Roberts: Wannabe asshole
Jack Frost: The oldest man alive, even older than the sunshine boys.
Mike Case: The coolest of the drunkards.

However, there was one bag boy of consequence that caught her eye.   Amy quickly spotted Zack following Regina around.  Not so bad after all, at least she didn't get stuck with the young Hackster too.  No, 9 holes and 3 hours of duty with Zack wasn't such a bad thing.  Especially with those freckles and that smile that made her melt...no, no, no she thought, you have a boyfriend, no...

"Excuse me, ma'am, ma'am excuse me, my son would like a purple gatorade.  That's number 216," the woman said as she grabbed a purple gatorade and took off with her son looking thoroughly inconvenienced. 

Already a line was forming behind her cart.  Unfortunately, there was no one over the age of 16, family night at the country club, a beer cart girl's dream come true. 

Her daydreaming over, and the thirsty kids becoming no less thirsty, she got to work.  It was clear she would be heading back to the dungeon before long to get more gatorade. 

Well on her way to what would be, hopefully, one of the least succesful horseraces of the season she attempted to quietly start up her cart in an effort to move to the next hole without too much noise from her diesel engine beverage cart.  As the holes wore on so did the kids and the gatorade.  At hole number 6 they were down to 4 teams and she was down to 6 gatorades.  Time to head back to the dungeon.

On her way she spotted Zack, the cute, Christian bag boy in what appeared to be a flirty conversation with one of the K lifeguards - Kadrian, Kyra...she could never tell which was which, at the pool.  Well, that would not do she thought.  What to do...

"Ah, SHIT," narrowly avoiding a collision with a giant oak tree Caroline swerved to the left and headed for the dungeon with the determination to make a concerted effort to think less about boys and more about her job.

Now, how could she make Zack cheat on his girlfriend with her instead of one of the K's...

Turning her cart around and reversing down into the dungeon she parked her cart and jogged up to the stock room, narrowly avoiding the dishwashers and line cooks that were enjoying their evening break smoking cigarettes, stealing drinks from her cart and talking about how much gun powder they feed to their dogs to make them more vicious. 

Reminding herself that she should probably grab more gatorade than necessary to make up for the ones being taken from her cart while it was parked in the dungeon she pushed on the door, but it didn't open fully.  She pushed again.  It scooted open a little bit more.  Something was propped up against it.  One more hard push and she was in.  The lights were on in the inner room and the door was oddly unlocked.  She could see the lights were on and could hear the loud fan going as she walked into the inner sactum of the stock room.  The hot mugginess of the un air conditioned room was somewhat relieved by the giant fan that was sputtering but not enough to warrant spending more than the 5 minutes it took to grab all the necessary supplies to keep golfer's thirsts at bay.  But, there was also a loud banging...

"SHIT,"  she mumbled startled as she saw Nicole and George O'Connoll going at it in the corner of the stock room.  Clearly mounted by O'Connoll on top of the 4 foot stack of Mountain Dews and Code Reds, Nicole had obviously planned this out because really, who drinks Code Red?  O'Connoll's plaid golf pants were collecting dust at his feet and the ease with which O'Connoll was able to slide Nicole's short fake juicy mini-sweat skirt up must have cut the foreplay in half, making for quick sex.  Both just stared at Caroline as she realized there really was something worse than Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County.**  Unscripted O.C. was nothing to unscripted S.O.C.C.  That bitch Kristin has nothing on Nicole. 

"Holy Shit, Holy Shit, Holy Shit," Caroline kept murmuring as she backed out of the room.  Nicole has been told time and time again that that outfit is inappropriate and unacceptable!  "I mean really," Caroline thought out loud as she headed back to the dungeon, "A sweat suit, you'd think we were working at a public course!"  Wait until Kelsey hears about this, if Nicole could not dress herself someone else would have to. I can't take much more of this she thought.  She made a mental note to push the Code Red and Mountain Dew on the bratty kids.

As she headed out of the dungeon with a still empty cart and quickly drove past the holes she was supposed to be servicing, she saw several men waving their arms for her, she kept driving past however, she was on a mission.  A mission to spread the news of Nicole's fugly sense of fashion far and wide.***

She found Kelsey surrounded by a gaggle of men and also eyed Brandon, the pro working this horserace, looking not too excited about said gaggle.  Approaching Kelsey's cart everyone looked surprised to see her. 

"Hey Caroline! How's it going?  I was just about to go back to stock up on more beer.  This'll be my second restock, I can't keep the beer in the cart long enough to get it cold! Oh, and shhh, I've gotten $17 in tips!" she whispered.  As per usual, Kelsey was raking in the dough and Caroline was left with nothing but the crumbs. 

"No, you can't restock, you can't go back," Caroline said.

"What?' Kelsey responded with the familiar confused look on her face.

"Quick, here, help me," Caroline said motioning toward her beverages.  "I'll give you some beer if you give me some gatorage.  Looks as though I got the family horserace."

"What, why?" Kelsey said.

"Well, you can't go into the stock room.  I went back to get some more gatorade for the bratty kids and walked in on Nicole and George O'Connoll..." she stammered off as Kelsey responded, "No! Were they on the Code Reds again? Ewww."

"Yes!" she responded not able to get the memory out of her head.

"And was Nicole still wearing that awful mini-skirt sweatsuit?" Kelsey asked as they began transferring beverages between the carts.

"Yes!" she said switching 4 Coors Lights for 4 purple Gatorades. 

"We really have to do something about that...even if we have to dress her ourselves.  We're fixin to have a mini-Von on our hands if we're not careful Caroline."

"Yes!" Caroline responded yet again in even greater force.  She finished switching out the beverages and realized it was definitely time for her to head back over to her neglected group of golfers.  "I've got to head back, watch out for sexual deviants if you have to go back in," she called as she left for the front nine.

Seeing the ever vacant beverage cart arrive many men started shouting and waving their arms in an effort to ensure they would not let her pass by again without getting refreshments.  As she pulled up and parked several golfers were already calling out orders. 

"Where have you been?" asked Dave Roberts.  "We've been waiting for you for 3 holes!  I don't pay the big bucks to belong to this club to sit around and wait for my beers.  I'll take 4 Bud Lights on 314," he finished as he took the 4 beers and stormed off.

So much for getting that signature on the tally sheet she thought.

"I need two Coors miss, one for me and one for my buddy who just shot the whole in one Jack Frost, and make it quick."  said one rather old man she was rather sure she had never seen before.  "What's the number?" she responded.  "Number? What number?" he said.  "Your member number, the only way I have to charge you for these beer," she responded.  "My member number? You are the beverage cart driver, the employee, aren't you supposed to have those memorized?" he retorted.  "Uh, no" she said wondering how on Earth she would ever memorize 400 different numbers for 350 people she had never met.  "In my day it was never like this, you'd never have this kind of back talk, from the help no less!  It's like they have no idea..." he muttered on and on as he walked away withOUT giving her his number.

Great she thought, just what I need.  More unaccounted for drinks from my cart.  What a jackass.  Well, maybe I can look up his number if I can figure out whose partner Jack Frost is...

"Hey little lady, I need a beer, and a smile." he said interrupting her thoughts.  It was the always lovely and delifghtful Mike Case.  "I saw that crotchety old man giving you a hard time.  Just because his fellow, crotchety 100 year old partner made a hole in one does not mean he has the right to be rude to you.  To think you could or would memorize 400 numbers for 3 months of work.  Well, I will give you my number and my signature," he said writing his number, his purchase and his signature on her tally sheet.  He promptly handed it back to her and grabbed his accounted for purchase from the back of her cart and with a wave and a smile sauntered off.  Why couldn't everyone be as lovely and delightful as Mike Case.

As the dwindling group approached the green at number 9 she started to relax a little.  The sun was going down, the golfers and kids were no longer thirsty and she was able to crack her latest pseudo-intellectual novel.  The heroine of the novel was just locking eyes with the hero for the first time as she looked up and realized everyone was gone.  She was sitting by herself on the course and saw Kelsey heading back to the dungeon.  Cursing her inability to pay attention to things that literally bored the life out of her she  put her book away and drove the cart back to the dungeon to follow. 

"Hey Caroline, guess what?" Kelsey bombarded her as she steered her cart into the garage behind Kelsey's.  "I have a date!"

"Oh, which unwilling non-drooling country club attendee's arm did you have to twist to get him to ask you out," Caroline predictably responded.

"What Caroline?" Kelsey said.  "Stop being silly, it was Brandon!  We're going out tonight, oh he's so cute!"And then she squealed in jubilation.

"What the hell was that?" a gruff voice said. 

"Oh, sorry." Kelsey said responding to Charlie's inquiry.  "I'm just so excited!" she managed to squeal out again as she skipped off up to the pro shop. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry too, sorry I have to listen to that ALL day." Caroline added when Kelsey was out of ear shot.  "Oh, well could be worse, she could be acting like that while wearing a mini-skirt sweat suit."

"Ha," Charlie managed to respond having no clue what was going on. 

Caroline went back up to the kitchen to clock out and return her keys for the day.  She ran into Kelsey again, more skipping of course, on her way. 

"Bye Caroline! I'll let you know tomorrow how it went!" she said.

"I can hardly wait!" Caroline retorted unable to hold her sarcasm any longer.  Determined to get out of there before having any more incidents she clocked out and pretty much ran to her car.

*As it has become clear, some men drink far more than other men, thus they are much better tippers.  A beverage cart girls only goal, besides tanning and flirting, is making those tips that are decreed uneccessary by private club regulations.  Therefore, the horserace is one of the only events of the summer at which tipping is rampant.  Beverage cart girls must be strategic.

** Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County:  MTV's reality show response to Fox's soap opera The O.C.  And while I'm on it, is it scripted?  I know everyone says no, but really, those kids can't come up with that stuff on their own, can they? 

***fugly:  Comes from the popular website www.gofugyourself.com.  A website dedicated to exposing celebrities tragic encounters with fairly hideous clothing.

The Beginning

Many Many moons ago, when she was 12 years old….It was a hot summer day, exactly like all the others.The sun was letting off as the day began to retire into night. The course continued to empty as late afternoon groups finished their rounds or gave up in favor of a shower and dinner. But she was still out there, rounding number 12 with her parents. After a long day of junior golf she was more than ready to call it quits and watch some tube, it looks like she was the only one willing to give up the game.

Junior golf had been, as it always was, long and boring. Thirty 10-14 year olds swinging miniature golf clubs as hard as they can, trying to hit a tiny, white ball, for 2 hours was not anyone’s idea of fun. This was the age before 14 year old golfers played in major tournaments, the age before 3 year olds were given their first golf club before their first tricycle.  Unfortunately, when the parents love the game, the kids are often forced to love the game too.  Thus, there she had been, swinging at that damn ball, over and over again.It didn’t help that she was a lefty.  And now, after a great day of junior golf, she was on the adult course, the course that never ended.  They had been out there for what seemed like hours and were only on number 12, would this ever end?  Probably not.

There was just one salvation.

“Mom, how many practice swings do you have to take?  Can’t the last shot count as a practice swing for this shot?  Can’t we be done yet?”

And the predictable response from Dad, “Amy, I’ve told you and told you, do not interrupt our golf games, be quiet!!!”

“But Dad, this is soooooo boring, it takes me 20 shots to get to the green.”

“Amy if you do not shut your mouth I’ll make it so you can’t even take a shot.”

He took his shot and the ball shanked right, into the sand trap.  Good riddance, that’s what he deserved as far as she was concerned.  Of course now, “Amy, I missed that shot because you disturbed my concentration, if you say another word I will take away your television privileges for the next week…I can’t believe that girl Maggy, she’s your daughter, you fix her…..God damn it…..”

“Ha Ha, Amy’s in trouble, Ha ha, you’re in trouble.”  His huge tongue was sticking out at her, she could see.John delighted in tormenting Amy beyond belief.  It was his only purpose in life as her 10 year old brother.  At least she had one thing left, she climbed into the driver’s side of the cart and prepared to drive across the hole and pick up her mother after another beautiful shot.  Driving a golf cart, it was the single, greatest salvation for a kid who would not be able to drive a car for another 4 years.  And it was the only thing that made this day bearable for her.

The wind at your hair, she thought, there’s nothing like it.  You can move the cart left and right, move much faster than any person can walk or run, especially any 12 year old.  Technically, to be able to drive a golf cart you had to have a driver’s license, but her parents let her drive when they were out of range of the clubhouse.  Now she drove over to her mother, the wind flowing through her hair, the pedal pushed to the floorboard, there was nothing better.  Suddenly, she felt herself being pulled from the cart; her father grabbed her by the wrist and simultaneously put his foot on the brake.  “Your driving days are over missy, you can just sit in this cart and think about how you’ve acted today.”  And he left her in the passenger side of his cart as he went in search of his ball.

“Ha Ha, you’re in trouble, you’re in trouble….” He chanted happily.

“Shut up John” was all she could think of to retort.

“Mom, Amy told me to shut up…”

Oh this would not end well.

Now what would she do for the next 6 holes. 6 holes!  That was like forever for a 12 year old she thought.  And then she heard it, the low rumble, coming closer and closer.She could just see it rounding hole 11, it would soon be here.  The beverage cart was approaching.  Though she knew she would not be allowed to have anything from the cart with her parents in the mood they were in, it was great to just to see it.  That had to be the single best job on Earth…driving the beverage cart.  Nothing could be better, driving around all day without a care in the world, no parents to tell you what to do or where to go, and no golfing.

“Can I get ya’ll anything?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” her parents responded predictably in unison.

She had to be, like, 16 was all Amy could think, and she’s free!  Free to drive wherever she wants and drink and eat anything that was on her cart.  Life couldn’t get any better.And that’s when Amy made the decision.  She would be a beverage cart driver when she turned 16, when she was old enough to drive.  Yep, that was settled.  One day she would be the beverage cart girl for Southern Oaks.  One day she would have all that freedom.  Though she knew it was a lifetime away, she could not wait.

Relevant Rules and Regulations

Dress Code - All men must wear collared shirts with sleeves in the clubhouse and on the course.  All women must wear collared shirts in the clubhouse and on the course.  Denim is strictly forbidden in the clubhouse and on the course.  Swimsuits are strictly forbidden in the clubhouse and on the course, they are only permitted at the pool.  Nothing other than tennis shoes or golf shoes can be worn on the course.  One must look presentable at all times.  Unless you are Von, if you are Von the rules do not apply to you.

Tipping - No tipping whatsoever is allowed.  Tipping is (allegedly) included in the price and employees are (allegedly) compensated accordingly in their bi-monthly paychecks. 

Employees - Employees are not allowed to use any restroom or public place where members gather.  Employees must remain in employee designated areas and cannot converse with members unless first spoken to by a member.  Employees must do what members say as the member is always right.

* A problem arose in the rule book when, in 1997, the first member's son was hired as a bagboy.  After that members who are also employees have been very hard to manage as they cannot be told what to do because they are members. 

Conduct - Always be very quiet on the golf course.  If you are loud enough to disrupt a member's swing he is permitted to kill you.

The Players

Management - There are four key leaders at Southern Oaks, Head Honchos if you will.  One: Coach Morgan, a lovely, surly man of 65 whose greatest love is the pool and the iodine he uses as sunscreen. That is correct, Coach Morgan uses iodine to dye his skin as he lays out in the sun up to 8 hours a day.  His crispy skin is nothing to his crispy toenails though.  They have spent so much time in the sun they have begun to resemble fritos.  Needless to see he is the bossman at the pool.  Two: Leon (aka 007) is the captain of the course.  Leon enjoys riding around in the oldest golf cart known to man, the golf cart is cart number 007.  He is the greenskeeper, he makes sure each and every hole is in pristine condition for those who will never notice.  Three: Rick Reed is "The Professional" at Southern Oaks. That means he's a really good golfer, and he's in charge of teaching everyone else to play golf really good.  He's also really really nice and not, like most golfers, really arrogant.  Four: Tur Arsala, my fearless leader.  A funny middle-aged Turk who enjoys playing golf poorly and telling people to do things that make absolutely no sense.  He is the club manager.  He is in charge of all employees who work in the clubhouse; i.e. the kitchen staff, locker room staff, halfway house staff, waitors and waittresses, pool grill staff, and beverage cart staff.  When he says things most employees only pretend to listen.  In a nutshell, Coach = pool, Leon = the golf course itself, Rick = anything involving a golf club, and Tur = anything that doesn't make sense.

The Kitchen and it's Staff - The kitchen is the nexus of the club, just about everything and everyone goes through here eventually.  There are 4 entrances into the kitchen.  One, as described earlier, leads to the halfway house, which is just off the 9th and 18th holes. The other three are off the cooking line, one leading to the oak leaf room, one to the grill, and the third to the employee's break room and the tunnel.  Now, the key to the kitchen staff, and almost everyone else here at Southern Oaks, is that everyone is related to eachother.  The head chef, Dwayne, is owned by (and married to) Von - halfway house (my direct boss). Von's son, Dwayne's stepson, Sean, is a dishwasher in the kitchen.  He is 16 and enjoys goofing off and taking several breaks a day with his cousins, who are also dishwashers.  The baker, a super nice guy named Gary, is Dwayne's brother. Jackie, one of the line cooks, is Von's sister and a super bitch.  She is arguably one of the most difficult people to get along with at Southern Oaks.  So, in essence, everyone in the kitchen is somehow related to Von.  And, the King, LeRoy, is maitor d.  He is Von's father.  He owns everyone.  There are others who will pop up here and there but are not necessary to mention at this time.

The Halfway House and Beverage Cart Girls - Von and Jessica bravely tackle the duties that come with running the halfway house.  The halfway house is exactly what its name describes.  A place where members can get food and beverage halfway between their round, between the 9th and 10th holes.  Von is really good at bossing people around and everyone is really good at being afraid of her.  She has been at Southern Oaks for quite a long time (gets longer everytime she talks about it) and believes she can use this to her advantage.  Fortunately she has the IQ of a wall so she's not so good at accomplishing her goals.  She's also afraid of boats.  Jessica is quite a bit younger than Von and always has her books with her as she also takes classes at the local community college.   The members call her 'spud', possibly because she looks like a potato.  The beverage cart girls are as follows: Reagan, Nicole, Kelsey, and Amy.  Reagan is the senior beverage cart girl (beer chick) by one year, her parents are members, therefore she is special.  She is a product of private schooling, will be attending the local state university, and is the only beer chick who can play golf well.  Her height and big bones do not go well with her short shorts and collared shirts  Nicole likes to think she is the senior beer chick.  She and Jessica are cousins and her favorite two confidants in the whole world are Jessica and Reagan.  She is 16 years old, attends the local, hick high school, and is super excited about being a wrestling cheerleader and a Southern Oaks beer cart bitch.  She likes to think she can play golf and she and Von are in competition for lowest IQ.  She brings the words 'dumb blonde' to life.  But in a very different way than Kelsey.  Kelsey loves life, a bubbly tiny blonde who looks good in everything and even better in nothing, as many of the male members and emplolyees fantasize.  Our southern belle, she's your typical Theta from AU and is at Southern Oaks this summer to network and get a full time job for the fall.  She ranks in as the oldest of the beer cart girls at 22.  And finally, Amy, the odd one out.  Not a fan of kissing up to the members for tips, as two of the other girls love to do. And not a fan of many of her fellow employees.  Low tolerance and even less patience drive her to avoid everyone and everything but her books and her boyfriend, a lifeguard at the pool.  Though she dislikes almost everyone around her, she dislikes golf even more.  But she has some unavoidable obsession with it also, probably because her parents are the couples club champions of the club, her mother is the women's club champion 3 years in a row, and her brother is a scratch golfer and bag boy.  The four girls soon became best friends and looked forward to working together every day. Oh....wait...actually they never quite made it to the friends part.

The Pro Shop and Bag Room - The Pro Shop is frequented by, among others, Rick the pro and the Assistant Pros Ed, Mitch, Regina, and Brandon.  They teach people how to play golf and sell various golf clubs, clothes, and accessories in the pro shop.  The bag boys, under the command of the Pro Shop people, are teenage boys who deal in golf clubs.  They carry members clubs from the bag room, where they are stored, to the golf carts; they also clean the golf clubs and golf carts and store both at the end of ever day.  The important bag boys are Zack Stevens, Nate Stevens, Philip Philips, Drew Hackler, Jay Burqhart, John Jones, and Brashiers.  Zack is a sweetheart who has devoted a little too much of his life to Christ.  Nate is his little brother.  Philip is the pretty boy.  Drew Hackster is an asswipe whose Dad, a member, is also a giant asswipe.  Jay is a less arrogant asswipe who delights in tormenting those around him.  John is Amy's brother and the all American nice guy who just loves the game of golf and the people around him (much to Amy's dismay).  And Brashiers, much like Jay Burqhart, can go suck a dick.  The bag room is like the wild card, on any given day you never know what you're gonna get.

The Pool Staff - The lifeguards serve one purpose, and one purpose only.  They are eye candy for the members. You'd think they'd be there to save people who drown, but no. All the people who swim at Southern Oaks Club pool are professional swimmers and the lifeguards never have to get in the water. And why, you ask, are there male life guards?  Because the Coach is required by some higher power to have an equal number of male guards and female guards on duty at all times.  Otherwise all lifeguards at the pool would be females.  Regardless, the females who do work at the pool are as hot as they are lacking intelligence, and let me tell you, they are quite hot.  They are Kelsey (not the beer cart girl Kelsey), Kyra, Kadrian, Kendall, Kelly and Lindsay Woods.  They can all be summed up in two words: dumb blonde.  Except Woods, she's a brunette.  The male lifeguards are Darren Dibble (double D), Daniel Brunsman, Cole, and Joel.  Darren and Daniel's priorities lie in doing as little work as possible and getting great tans on their hairless chests.  Cole just wants to be Brunsman.  And Joel, like his girlfriend Amy, likes to escape the world in his books.  To everyone else at the club the pool is an alternate universe where the only thing up for debate is how small a lifeguards swimsuit can be for her to still be able to potentially save someone and keep it on.

The Greenskeepers - Under the command of 007 works a crack squad of pure stealth.  Dan Hubbard, the twins, and the mexicans work tirelessly to keep the holes in a constant state of perfection.  They do a little work, then a little leering, then a little more work, and a little more leering.  Funny, whenever one needs a greensman, he can almost always be found 'working' on a hole that backs up to the pool.

 The Scragglers - There are various other people who work at the club who do not fall under any of the other categories.  The maintenace men, for example, are Mike, Charlie, and Rob.  Mike is a nice guy with a wife and a daughter he's trying to turn into a model, she's 14.  Charlie also has a wife and child, only he's 22 instead of 42.  Rob likes to drink lots of beer.  The woman and her baby who work in the cage in the tunnel never really had names, though it is rumored that her husband's mother is the woman, Mable, who can be seen around the club 'working as a waittress' and picking up cans. She is approximately 100 years old.  Eva and Cynthia work in the women's locker room.  They don't really do much work, but they are very good at knowing when the precise moment the employees food will be put out in the kitchen.  Charlie is the men's locker room attendant. His claim to fame is surviving the gang related gun shot wound to his kidney.  He is Von's brother.  And Ron, Ron cleans the clubhouse and does odd jobs, he's a super sweet, super nice guy of about 45.  And finally, the woman who wanders around on random days watering various plants around the clubhouse.  Nobody really knew who she was or if she was even a paid employee, but nevertheless, she was good at watering those plants.

The Members - Clearly it would be fruitless and cumbersome to mention all of the members who belong to Southern Oaks Country Club.  Therefore, only the most memorable and relevant to the summer of 01 story will be mentioned.  The Sunshine Boys: men above the age of 65 who play their rounds as the sun rises each morning.  They arrive most days on the number one tee by 6:45 a.m.  Their golf bags are the heaviest of all the members as the sunshine boys horde dozens of golf balls in their bag, needless to say the bag boys are not fans.  Bud Rogers, a classic sunshine boy, is one of the meanest men who ever lived.  He always gets 6 Budweisers from the Halfway House before his round and refuses to play behind women, he will quit in the middle of his round before he plays behind women golfers.  Walt Powers is the trendiest sunshine boy anyone has ever seen, he loves to delight the beer chicks with his colorful (read: dirty) jokes. He is a favorite of Kelsey's.  And Lee Gideon, another favorite, is a former actor turned golfer and atheist.  He is a dear favorite of Amy's.  The drunkards: men who play a round approximately 8 days of the week and drink at least 6 beers each every round.  The most memorable drunkards Southern Oaks has ever seen are Don Deselms, Matt Costello, and David Marsh. They play golf for the beer.  The beer cart chicks love these men.  Hardcore Assholes: these are the members who are obsessed with being the best, though not all are assholes, they all are hardcore.  Mr. Collingsworth, Mr. Genzer, and Mr. Hackler will do anything they can to have the lowest score on the golf course.  As a result they are arrogant assholes on and off the course.  The beer chicks do not love these men.  There are also the Hardcore Assholes's kids, like Will Dodson and Blaine Bacon.  These kids grew up on golf, some are top notch and some are not, regardless, they all play.  And last but not least, the scragglers: Mr. O'Connor is your typical sexual harrasment case waiting to happen.  He plays golf to oggle the goods.  He particularly enjoys any of the holes featuring a beer cart girl or any hole that has a decent view of the pool.  There are many members like Mr. O'Connor.  Mr. David, on the other hand, plays for fun. What a revelation, playing for fun.  There are not many who play just to enjoy the game, but he is one of them.  He stocks his cart with his clubs, a coke, and a cigar on any breezy quiet afternoon and sets off to enjoy a round of golf. 

These are the player at Southern Oaks Country Club.  Not all have a significant part in the story.  They are just the typical people one would meet in going to any golf course around the country. 

Introduction

The apparent heat that made the outside thermometer on her car register 91 degrees and the lush, green grass of the ruff, visible from the club entrance, indicated the beginning of another summer.  Idle hands would no longer stir indoors, work days would now be cut short in favor of a quick round before dinner.  Pulling around the drive at 8:45 a.m. she could see the sunshine boys already finishing up their round on 18.  It would be difficult, she knew, to find a parking spot that was not in the direct view of the leering groundsmen. Their favorite past time, other than cutting and watering grass of course, was locating the female with the shortest skirt/shorts.  They also liked the lifeguards at the pool. 

After parking her car, she made her way into the  clubhouse that was oh so familiar from her childhood days.  The entryway was a tribute to 1970's floral print and fake plants.  Her favorite part was the green turf leading from the valet parking to the member's entrance.  Then, the hallway to the famous oak room and administrative offices (including her bosses), decor: same fabulous floral print.  Just ahead, the "upscale" dining rooms, those her family had eaten in on so many special occasions. Mostly, without her.  Through the large white doors, the kitchen, so recently off limits, would now be one of her bases of operation for the next 3 months. She got a few stares, not surprisingly, as she sauntered through the kitchen towards the halfway house in her collared shirt and short khaki skort, not many well groomed white girls were often seen in the kitchen.  The store room that connected the kitchen to the halfway house was filled with all kinds of objects that would soon get in her way.  Hurrying through the storage room, she could soon see the crowd that awaited her in the halfway house.

As it was a Saturday morning, she knew it would be busy. Von could be seen frantically filling styrofome cups with ice and water in preparation for the onslaught of thirsty men she knew would soon appear. Jessica was attending to the coffee needs of the members. The behind the counter area of the halfway house, intended for no more than two, was clearly far too crowded with 5. Tur, the club manager, stood around making the employees nervous; and Nicole graced everyone with her presence by, as usual (she would soon come to find), doing nothing.  Kelsey just looked extremely confused.  Fortunately, a sixth person was deemed 'too many' and Nicole, Kelsey, and she were sent to the dungeon.

Back through the kitchen, with more leering eyes, the girls went down a flight of stairs through the employee lounge, down a concrete enclosed hallway that led to the tunnel.  The hallway was very steep and curved around for about 100 feet until it opened into what appeared to be a large, long, dilapidated garage that was directly under the clubhouse.  On the far left, among the rest of the crap, were two large ice machines.  On the right were two large wooden doors and then, beyond, what appeared to be a giant cage, with a woman and her two children inside. A cage?!?!? Hello...Fox News. Nicole walked toward the wooden doors and fumbled her keys looking for the one that would fit the giant lock on the giant doors. Once open, she saw her future, she saw the beverage carts. She was the beverage cart girl of Southern Oaks Country Club, one of them at least.

It was her first day.