Wednesday, July 20, 2016

A Rousing Round of No Thank You

It never ceases to amaze me how time will make just about anyone forgetful. Sometimes it takes less than an hour for someone to be forgetful, but perhaps it is a little of both. This time of the year the people that don't punch a time clock will poke their head in my office and inquire if I am up for a game of golf. Of course being someone who does punch a time clock it is the most convenient excuse as to why I am not up for it, but there are real reasons that others seem o forget even if faced with it in the last hour or so. Facts are facts, but really people like myself do not belong on a golf course unless it requires a hard hat, and is with like minded individuals. Some of my greatest human failings come out loud and clear in this type of a situation.

Am I bad at golf? Actually no, I am not bad at golf. I can play an entire nine or eighteen without reaching a stroke limit once and usually am within ten strokes of par. These would be the absolute minimums for not being "bad" but definitely doesn't qualify as great. Most of the people that ask if I want to play have seen me at a driving range at one time or another hitting the ball on average around 275 to 300 yards with reasonable accuracy. I know what clubs to use in what situations, and I can even get a ball out of the sand or the trees, of course that is due to a lot of practice. No my human failings aren't athletic, they are more constitutional in nature. They tend to be amplified by the fact that I don't drink and it appears to be a side sport for the rest of the field.

Spelling it out, but I am sure my wife can agree and find a few more things to note, that don't belong on a golf course, I have a special kind of ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) and it ain't getting cured any time soon. I tend to be very loud and flamboyant when I talk, that goes over real well around the tees and even if I can control that (hey, it's been known to happen) my attention span is pretty short too. It stops being humorous around the third time I come walking out of the woods with pockets full of lost golf balls and a couple of clubs that people threw in there, just to be reminded that I went in there to hit my own golf ball out. By this time people behind us are starting to get violent, and you don't want a mob of blue haired old ladies furious because they want to play through do you?

It's not like these things aren't obvious by dealing with me on a day to day basis either. Many of the same people asking me about playing golf have probably had to send someone to look for me because whatever task I have been sent on earlier in the day was delayed by all of my unfinished side projects that I get lost in along the way. On the other hand they don't have that much trouble finding me because my voice carries. It's a double edged sword. Then again I deserve at least a little credit for gracefully declining the invitations instead of doing the thing that all the drinkers on the golf course do. Prove that inviting me was a stupid idea. Come to think of it, they never seem to dis-invite the drunkards either, so I guess I am safer just not going to begin with.