As you might have gathered by now, I work at a sports facility. So it seems normal, that we have a strict NO SMOKING rule everywhere inside the house. Problem being, that I am a.) THE senior staff there and b.) a heavy smoker. Thus, I insisted to have one room in the house, where I could smoke, when we bought and restructured our clubhouse five years ago. So we (yes, there are still other smokers around, although one does get the impression to be part of the last herd of dinosaurs around, nowadays. But this is another story.) have a small kitchen on the first floor, overlooking the parking lot and the 6 hole short course, where we go for breaks and smokes.
So it happened yesterday, that our book keeper, our facility manager and I stood together, enjoying a coffee and a cigarette in the afternoon. Noticing two golfers at the corner of the short course, trying to heave their golf gear over the fence to the parking lot. Starting to test, if the fence would be strong enough for them to allow them to climb over it. In order to save the few steps it would afford them to take the path off the short course back to the car.
We just built that fence new last fall and I still see the fairly large figure printed on the bill before my inner eye. Start of this week, our greenkeeping staff cleared and raked the area along the fence, where one can still see construction marks and sowed new grass. These two guys trampling over the seeds. I was getting furious, sending the facility manager off, to give them a piece of my mind.
It is amazing, how people playing golf – per definition a walking sport – hate to walk the shortest distances, as soon as they are off the grassy bit. Every extra step is too much, it seems. Forming little paths for shortcuts, where they should not trespass. Complaining about the slightest detour, we might have to ask them to take. “Why do we have to walk around the pitching green to the right and can’t just walk straight along it’s left side on the way to the East Course” (a detour of roughly 150 meters on their way to a round of golf, where they then happily walk 8 – 10 kilometers for fun), everybody asks. Well, because the sewerage tank for the new halfway hut toilets is located under the ground at the other side of the pitching green now. And we don’t want you guys break through its roof, falling into your own s… That’s why. One can’t always spell out the reasons.
But back to the two culprits on the fence. We could see them grudgingly take the path to the parking lot, after the facility manager was done with them. When they were coming closer, passing the window of our smokers kitchen above them, I recognised the two. It was my former boyfriend, the bridge teacher, with his neighbour. All of a sudden, I felt embarassed. I spent, what was it, six or so, years, with this man. And all this time I seemingly wasn’t able to instill enough appreciation for golfing facilities and their staff’s hard work in him to even respect basic rules. Good decision, I left him.