Picture a golfer’s worst nightmare, and I don't mean a golf course with slow greens and a shredded fairway. Instead, the golf carts are slow and screechy and the food being served out of the clubhouse looked gray and stale. The golf course was a hoarder's house, as there were boxes cluttered throughout the back of the clubhouse, floors covered with wet grass and dirt, equipment that was rusty and slow, and old and screechy golf carts that struggled to turn on. It never ceases to amaze me that people flooded in to squeeze in a spot at the golf course when there were plenty of other, nicer golf courses in the area. Maybe it was the resident discount?  

At the Lake Bluff Golf Course, you either worked a 4 hour or an 8 hour shift with no in betweens. There wasn’t anything much worse than the 8 hour shift considering you would not be able to eat anything during that time. Also, with dozens of cameras pointing in every direction, the only way you could relax and breathe a bit had to be done driving the golf carts. As a cart washer, I had to be on top of every cart to make sure they were cleaned and back in the rotation for the golfers to use. This sounds easy enough, however, these carts always had mud splattered on the sides, beer cans crushed in the cup holders, and cigarette ashes left for us to clean up. Carts would even have to be washed a second time because usually the carts would barely make it through the first few holes. As the cart washers of the golf course were struggling to clean up the mess the golfers left behind and haul around age-old carts, the employees that worked inside got to relax inside and make an occasional drink or hot dog.

These grueling tasks were obviously a part of the job; however, there’s nothing worse than when your shift is over and your boss asks, “Can you clean the 3 carts that came in, bring up 2 cases of Bud Light, and take this phone call real quick?” As much as you want to tell your boss no, the same urge tells you to do the task, even though you're working for lower than minimum wage. So, often the last tasks of the day that are done past your shift, are mostly fueled by my frustration, hunger, the sensation of your butt touching the leather seats in your car on the drive home, and the thought of the little money entering your bank account the following week.

As I finish up the last tasks of the day, figuring out how to leave without being asked to complete yet another task, I end up racing through the clubhouse, saying, “Have a good rest of the day,” while jogging to my car. Most people wonder why anyone would want to return to working here. Because the work you do is for the place that hired you; the money you earn is what you do for yourself. It is hard to grasp the idea of returning to work, but the frustration from the tasks you do is only fueled by a person’s sense of hunger, fatigue, and a euphoric feeling of completing a job well done.