Lately through my daily life, people have noticed my lack of care toward my job as a Broad Run Golf employee. You see, I work as the Pro Shop Assistant and as such am required to stand at a desk and deal with every customer that comes in and wants to buy something from us; be it golf, a snack, or some merchandise. But if you saw me at work you would notice a distinct change in how I act at work compared to pre-Columbus Day. This is that story:
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| This place is Hell disguised as a beautiful golf practice facility |
I should have known that it was going to be a bad day the moment I got to work. Everybody yelled at me that day, starting with the building. As I entered the establishment for the morning shift I have to deactivate the ADT security for building and for some reason I entered the code that armed it thinking (for the longest time) that it was the correct code to disarm it.
This caused a series of alarms to sound followed shortly by a phone call from the ADT and thankfully it was a very patient young lady who for whatever reason, did NOT think I was a burglarer but instead giving me the benefit of the doubt. She requested only the names and phone numbers in which the security was named under. So I whipped out the employee log book and looked up my bosses.
After a few mistake via which of my three bosses the ADT security would be under as well as some mistakes between cell phone numbers and home numbers, the ADT lady deactivated the alarm and tried her best to aid my future code entering by suggesting that the buttons were sticky and to press extra hard. Unfortunately she was unaware of my complete lack of knowledge for the arm code and the disarm code.
As I tried to calm and assure myself that the rest of the day could be better, I was only setting myself up for the worst possible day I’ve had.
Within a couple of minutes, at least a dozen people called asking about the rates of the course for 9 holes with cart. I of course said that as far as I knew, they were standard rate. Many people brought up that they weren’t sure because it was a holiday, but I assured them that both the standard week day rate was in effect and that the all day rate would be available as well.
I was wrong on both. Not only were the more expensive weekend rates in effect, but the all day deal was not. When the dozen customers came in expecting to pay week day rates, they were…less than happy to find out that I, in essence, lied to them. They not only called me out on my mistake, but also demanded that they be served the promised rates because they would not have come knowing that the golf rates would be so costly ($37.50 vs. $21.50 per person).
Now both of my main bosses were at work that day and that always puts me on edge because one of them just sits at his desk and watches the security cameras to see if I make a mistake in any detail of my job, but today it was even worst. However, because of my price mix ups, I thought it was a blessing they were there (at first) because it meant that they could handle the sticky situations of the customers I had accidentally lied to. Most were easy to fix like some got the cheaper rate and some got the all day deal.
However, there were two that I completely messed up on. I accidentally charged two for 9 holes of golf with cart instead of the 18 holes with cart that they had a definitely asked for. I have no idea why I did that, I suppose I’m just used to people only getting 9 holes of golf that I just instinctively gave them 9 holes.
Well when the golf Marshal sent them back up to the Pro Shop to pay for their other 9 holes you can imagine the amount of confusion and anger that they felt. They were confused that they only got 9 when they said 18. They were angry that it was so expensive that day because of the holiday. And they said the line that no one wanted to hear, “Well I wouldn’t have paid for 9 if I knew how damn expensive it was.”
Thank you random customers, because you were the cherry on the top of my stressful day. And by cherry, I mean the horrible bear shit that covered the barely tolerable day with horribleness.
I go to my boss Rick and say, “Rick… I really screwed up. I charged this guy with just 9 holes and he wanted 18. Now finding out how expensive the 9 were by themselves he’s saying that he would never have paid that much if he knew that they were only going to play 9 holes with that amount. I don’t know what to do.”
Rick talks to the guy and like every customer before; the guy plays the victim and gets to go out for another 9 holes. Rick doesn’t look happy, but doesn’t look mad either. It was like he was in the middle of emotion.
After there is a break in customers, Rick comes out and asks, “How you doing?” in a very neutral tone.
I say, “Not great. It would have been nice to have a note reminding me that holidays are weekend rates.”
Bad move Richard.
Rick: A note?
Me: Yeah just a reminder.
Rick (pointing at me and walking over): Let me tell you something about notes! You have been here long enough to know the rates of this place and to know that holidays are weekend rates! Don’t give me any crap about notes!
He leaves me in shock and defeat. I try to say more to him, but all I manage is a mumble of, “It was just a suggestion. Sorry for… talking.”
Somehow, the day gets worse. My other boss, Jim, is the one constantly watching the cameras to see what I am doing wrong. This is creepy by itself, but on this day, it was obnoxious.
Whenever I had down time I would read my old Logics textbook for this class I failed and would have to retake. I would complete problems in the book and try to be prepared for when I had to take the class again. I had been doing this for weeks now and for whatever reason, I thought I could continue on with this habit on this joyous of days.
Well Rick comes over and says, “Jim wants you to put the book away.” I’m beaten, my confidence in myself is gone, and with it, my fighting spirit. I comply and place it back into my book bag along with my work.
Being stressed out as I was; I needed something to set me straight. Normally I would consume a vast quantity of caffeine to feel invinsible, but having already consumed my coffee and energy drink, I was out of options. Somewhere in my mind I thought that doing math problems would allow me to cope with this day. These problems were simple like; 2x+5 = 46. I wrote them on paper and Rick comes over again and asks what I’m doing. I tell him and he gives me this look like I’m crazy and asks why.
“It’s just something to do,” I said.
While I was dealing with another customer, Jim finally emerges from his dark cave and squints at the daylight. His eyes, being only used to light the security cameras provided, set on my distracted self. His overly large body mass waddles over to the desk like a penguin. Jim takes the chair I was using to sit on and moves it far enough away for the message to be received: stop sitting down.
It was a blunt move, but once again, I was too defeated to put up a fight so I just went with it. But after several minutes of no customers, I could only think about how I was standing and really wanted to sit. I even came convinced myself that because no customers had come through in a while, it could be considered a down time and I had earned a seat for a few minutes.
No sooner had I sat down, customers began to pour into the store again. I desperately tried to sit down when I could, but the constant flow of customers had me up on my feet too often to enjoy it.
When at last the onslaught is over, Jim waddles out again. This time, there are no subliminal messages.
Jim: How are you doing Richard?
Me (sitting down now): Hanging in there.
Jim: Good. What I need you to do is to stand up. You look like a frickin yo-yo whenever a customer comes in. You don’t sit down when you have guests in your house do you? I also need you to stop doing math or whatever and instead talk to the customers. Ask them how they shot, tell them to have a good day. Be friendly. So why don’t you put that chair back where I had it, put that note book away, and start doing your job.
At this moment, I seriously considered quitting. I also had an incredibly difficult time controlling the urge to just destroy Jim’s stupid face with an eight iron I had been eyeing for quite some time. Part of me didn’t think it could actually wait to get the club in my hand before I attacked Jim.
But I was able to control myself and I nodded silently to Jim.
Jim: I used to do this job too and I know it can be hard. But you’re a young man and you seem athletic. You should be able to stand for a while.
This was when I finally couldn’t take much more. I had to say something, but all I could do was just attack that one part. Athletic.
Me: Well actually I’m training for a marathon right now and my legs are-
Jim (cutting me off): You’re training for a marathon?
Me: Yeah and my legs are really tired all the time and my knees are killing me
Jim: Well I just don’t want you sitting down all the time. When it’s obviously slow you can sit for a few minutes, but I need you on your feet most of the time.
Me: Yeah ok.
With that he leaves. Now it’s factually correct I was training for a marathon, but my legs were not quite in as much need for a chair as I laid claim. I didn’t care though. I just needed a win somewhere no matter how small and if I got it from a chair, then so be it.
The rest of the day went by slow and my relief got stuck in traffic making him 2 hours late for work. Luckily I was able to not be bothered by Rick or Jim for the rest of the day out of sheer awkwardness (I think) or maybe because I was being forced to work extra because my co-worker was unable to come in.
Either way, my job satisfaction has reached its all time low. I hate my job and will allow customers get away with almost anything now. I have a new outlook on life in which I’m almost actually trying to get in trouble because if I'm going to, then at least it would be for something actually serious, than for something minor and insignificant.
Maybe in this regard they’ll care less about the details and more about the big picture.
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| These people are happy because 1. They get to share cake and 2. They DON'T work at Broad Run Golf. |
