by James Ross
“That’s kind of a rude thing to do to someone that was making you feel good. Remind me to teach it some manners,” Justin grinned.
“Alright guys, the fun and games are over for now. We’ve got to get out on the course and get some work done,” Curt said. He walked over to the lawn mowers that were parked on the other side of the tractors. “I bet you two are familiar with these pieces of equipment.”
“If we were home you can bet that’s what we’d be doing today,” Keith confessed, “cutting grass.”
“Well there’s a lot of it out here to cut,” Curt laughed. “There’s probably a hundred and fifty acres that need to be cut every week.”
“I hope that we don’t have to do it with lawn mowers,” Justin groaned.
“No, that’s what those gang mowers outside are for,” Curt said. “You two are too small to operate those tractors so we’ll use these smaller mowers to trim up some spots that the tractors can’t get.” He made his way through the shed, stopping at the lawn mowers.
“Look at this mower!” Keith shouted as he spotted an elaborate, compact mower with a cushioned seat and headlights. “Let me use this one!”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that one is off limits for you two,” Curt told the boys.
“Why?” Justin said as he admired the red finish and the black cushioned seat.
“That’s our greens mower,” Curt explained. “We’ve got a crew that gets here way before dawn to cut the greens. That way the course is ready to go for the early birds that want to tee off as soon as the sun comes up. The blades on that mower are so precise that it cuts the greens down to a fraction of an inch.”
“And it gets used every day?” Keith asked.
Curt nodded. “It does during the summer golf season when the grass is growing. The golfers are pretty picky when it comes to the greens. They want the ball to roll well so that they can make some putts.”
“Is that really what made Fred mad that day he missed that putt?” Justin asked fishing for the truth.
Curt chuckled. “Oh no, he couldn’t blame that on the greens. He just made a bad stroke and missed it.” Curt leaned down to whisper something to the boys. “Between you and me, it wasn’t the ringing of the phone that caused him to miss it either.”
Justin thought that it was kind of neat to be in on a secret. He whispered back, “Then what do you think caused him to miss it?”
Curt looked over his right shoulder and then turned his head to look over his left shoulder. “I don’t want anyone to see me.” He took his right hand and placed it to his throat and squeezed.
“You think that he choked?” Justin surmised.
Curt nodded his head. In a very soft and gentle tone he said, “But don’t let him know that you heard it from me. He was so afraid to lose a quarter that he couldn’t handle the pressure.”
“Why do you think that, Curt?” Justin asked.
“I say that because I’ve played a lot of golf with Fred. Don’t let Fred’s size fool you,” Curt began. “He’s a really, really good golfer. We call him the king of the up and downs around here.”
“What’s that mean?” Keith asked.
Curt thought for a minute about how to explain the slang phrase. “Some golfers don’t hit the ball as far as others, or they simply miss greens with their approach shots. They have to figure out a way to chip it close to the pin and make a putt to save par.”
“So he knocked it close enough to save par, but missed the putt,” Justin guessed.
“That’s right. Nine times out of ten, and maybe even more than that, Fred would have made that putt,” Curt summarized.
Keith and Justin both shook their heads back and forth. “We won’t tell,” Justin said in a hushed tone. “We wouldn’t want to be accused of that.”
“Oh, no,” Curt agreed. “Let’s just keep that between ourselves.” Curt winked at the boys and then moved back to the mowers. “Now come on guys, we’ve got to stop getting sidetracked. There’s work that needs to get done.”
“How do you want us to help?” Justin asked Curt.
“Help me pick up two of these mowers and we’ll put them in the back. Keith, you can grab a couple of these weed eaters and put them back there as well,” Curt directed. They loaded the back of the mini-truck with the equipment and Curt started the engine. “Gee whiz, I almost forgot,” he said, “run back into the barn and grab two of the gas cans, Justin.” Justin sprinted back to the shed and retrieved the containers.
Curt pulled the John Deere over to the elevated gas tank that sat near the shed and used one of the keys on his ring to unlock the padlock on the pump. Curt signaled to the boys. “Now, if you ever have to refill one of these cans, be careful because the fuel comes out quickly,” he cautioned. He filled the containers, locked the pump back up, and placed the cans in the truck bed. “Finally, we’re off to the job site.”
“Where are you taking us?” Justin wanted to know.
“There’s a creek bed out here that needs to be cleaned up a little,” Curt said. He drove to the eleventh hole and parked off to the side of the fairway. The creek dissected the hole from left to right. “Now here is what we have to clean up,” Curt instructed. “See how tall the grass has gotten on the banks?”
Justin and Keith nodded their heads.
“I want you boys to get in there with the weed eater and mower to knock that grass down. Any balls that you find you can keep.”
“That’s not such a bad deal,” Justin replied.
“It’s going to take you a few hours but the way I want you to view it is similar to the way we looked at things earlier this morning,” Curt proposed.
“What do you mean?” Justin asked.
“The other side of the fairway is your finish line. Your goal is to get there. That means that the job is complete. The finish line is the end of the job for you guys. We all know that everything has a beginning and an end, right?”
The two boys nodded in agreement. “I suppose,” Justin decided.
“Okay. Start things off. I’ll come back and check on you in a little while. Just keep the end in sight and remember to work to the finish line,” Curt reminded them. “If you do it right, then that will be a job well done.” He started the weed eaters for the boys, jumped into the utility vehicle, and drove off.
“I don’t want to do all of this work,” Keith complained as Curt pulled away.
“That’s what we’re getting paid to do,” Justin countered. “It could be worse. We really haven’t had to do much yet this morning.”
“Yeah, well, I just took a shower a little while ago. I didn’t want to get all hot and sweaty again.”
“They’ve got a shower in the clubhouse. We can take another one after we get done,” Justin said with encouragement. He revved the engine on the weed eater so that it was on full throttle and proceeded to knock down a large path of grass. “That’s easy, Keith!” He had to yell to keep his voice above the noise.
The boys went about their business and kept their goal in mind. Justin tackled his side of the creek with more enthusiasm than Keith. However, with all due respect, the weed eater that Keith was using kept eating the plastic line. He had to stop it frequently to pull some more nylon cord out of the reel and then start the machine back up. Once the grass was down, Justin found eight golf balls either in the water or on the side of the bank.
Curt returned a short time later with two plastic bottles of Powerade. “Here,” he said as he handed over the drinks, “you can take a short break. I didn’t know what flavors you liked so I brought a couple kinds.”
“I’ll take the Mountain Blast,” Keith volunteered.
“Good,” Justin conceded, “I want Artic Shatter.”
“How’s the work coming along?” Curt asked as he surveyed the scene. “It looks like Justin is pulling way ahead on his side of the creek.”
“My weed eater kept breaking,” Keith complained.
“We’ve got two options. After we g
et done with the break we can either trade weed eaters,” Curt suggested, “or Justin can keep the good weed eater and you can start up one of the lawn mowers, Keith.”
“I’ll take the lawn mower,” Keith said.
“That way I can keep going down in the creek,” Justin agreed. “Hey, Curt, see what I found?” Justin emptied his pockets and threw the golf balls in Curt’s direction.
“That’s a pretty good haul. Are any of them any good?” Curt asked as he started to examine the balls.
“I don’t know,” Justin said. “What makes them good?”
“Here’s a Pro VI that’s like brand new,” Curt spoke as he inspected the balls. “This Callaway looks like it’s only been hit a few times. A couple of these Top-Flites are decent. I wonder why we always find Top-Flites out here.” The boys shrugged. They didn’t know one brand from another and from their reaction it didn’t appear that they even cared.
Justin was curious. “What are we going to do after this job?”
“Once you reach your goal . . .”
“You mean the finish line.”
“Yeah, the finish line,” Curt grinned and nodded, “it will be time for lunch. We’ll head back to the clubhouse and get something to eat.”
“Come on Keith. Let’s get this job wrapped up,” Justin urged his friend.
“That’s what I like to see,” Curt voiced his approval. “Go after your goal with teamwork in mind . . .”
“ . . . And reach the finish line.” Justin fired up the weed eater and Keith started the lawn mower. With an extra boost of vim and vigor they finished the job in a short time.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Curt pulled the utility vehicle to a stop in front of the clubhouse. The boys, covered with grass clippings, jumped out and began their trek inside. “Whoa, where do you two think you’re going?” Curt admonished.
“To get something to eat,” Keith responded.
“Not looking like that. Let’s make a pit stop at the cart barn before we enter the clubhouse.” Curt led them away. The threesome entered the cart barn and Curt reached for a Black & Decker leaf blower that was hanging on the wall. “We could have stopped by the maintenance shed and done this, but I thought that the breeze on the drive back might clean you off.”
“I’m itching,” Keith whined.
“Hold on a second.” Curt started the motor on the leaf blower and pointed it at Keith. The forced air blew all of the clippings off his front side. “Now turn around.” Curt followed suit on Keith’s back. “Feel any better?”
“I don’t itch as much,” Keith said.
“Bend over. Let me blow the grass out of your hair,” Curt instructed. He forced the air onto Keith’s head and cleaned him up. “That ought to do it.” Curt turned to Justin. “I imagine you want the same treatment.” Justin nodded and in no time Curt spruced up his appearance as well. “Okay fellas, time for lunch. Let’s go.” Curt returned the leaf blower to the cart barn while the boys sprinted for the clubhouse door.
“Well, what have we here?” Julie blared as Keith and Justin barged through the door.
“That’s our new summer work crew,” J Dub answered. The boys stood wide-eyed in the middle of the pro shop area. They had forgotten that they didn’t know anyone else very well there other than Curt. Now they were standing in the middle of a bunch of strangers. It would be a few moments before their safety net walked through the door.
“We’re hungry,” Keith exclaimed.
“But you don’t have to feed us,” Justin continued. “We brought our own lunch.”
“Then help yourself,” J Dub chuckled. “Don’t let us get in your way.”
The two boys raced to their duffel bags and retrieved the lunch bags that their mothers had prepared for them. “What can I get you to drink?” J Dub asked.
“Strawberry Melon,” Keith blurted.
“Jagged Ice,” Justin followed.
J Dub glanced at Julie. “Those are two opinionated requests.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned as he headed for the refrigeration unit. He peered through the glass door. “What happens if we don’t have those two flavors?”
“Then I’ll take Mountain Blast,” Keith requested.
“And I’ll have an Artic Shatter,” came Justin’s reply.
J Dub served up the replacement drinks as Curt came through the front door. “Did you have a chance to meet our new work crew?” Curt offered.
“Just the whirr of the wind as it raced past me a couple of minutes ago,” Julie said. “I thought that we had some kind of tornado blow through here.”
“Hey guys,” Curt said to the boys, “you recognize J Dub from this morning.” They nodded. Both of their mouths were full of food. “Our number one assistant around here is Julie. She’s good at telling everyone what to do so make sure that you listen to her. Go ahead and introduce yourself.”
Justin took a swig of Artic Shatter to wash down his last bite. “Hi, Julie, I’m Justin.”
“I’m Keith,” came the other reply.
“Glad to meet both of you young men,” Julie said tongue-in-cheek, not wanting to start a conversation with the teenagers and ruin their meal. Turning to Curt she said, “It looks like you worked them hard this morning by the way they’re shoveling down that food.”
“What have we done today, guys?” Curt thought out loud. The boys looked at him and motioned with their heads. They were preoccupied with chewing. “We pulled the carts out of the barn and ran a few miles.” Justin shook his head up and down. “Then we came back and showered just in time for breakfast with Fred.”
“That probably consisted of doughnuts,” Julie said. Keith nodded.
“Next we had the opportunity to introduce ourselves to a few cats,” Curt continued.
“I see that you made it to the maintenance shed,” J Dub added.
Justin nodded. “Yeah, and one of the kittens peed all over me.” J Dub and Julie laughed.
“From there we went over to number eleven and cleaned out the creek,” Curt explained. “You’ll have to go down there and see how nice of a job they did, J Dub.”
“Oh you did, huh? We’ve needed that creek worked on all spring,” J Dub commented. “Thanks, guys.”
“Yeah, and I found a whole lot of golf balls,” Justin relayed to the room.
“I bet you did down in that creek,” J Dub noted. “Were any of them any good?”
“Curt said that a couple of them were and then he wanted to know how come we always found Top-Flites,” Justin answered.
Curt and J Dub exchanged glances and started laughing. It was an inside joke the two of them shared. Typically, in most markets, the Top-Flite logo was the lowest priced ball on sale. Therefore it was a natural for many public golf course players to get the most bang for a buck and still hit a quality golf ball.
In the far corner of the room Curt noticed that BowTye was wiping down the tables. “Say, there’s one more person that I’d like for you two to meet. BowTye, come on over here.” BowTye smiled and wiped off his hands. The little man moved over to the counter. “Justin and Keith, I’d like to introduce you to a man that just started working here recently. This is BowTye. We gave him that nickname because of that red tie he always wears.”
Justin got off his stool and extended his hand. He wanted to practice what Curt has taught him. “Nice to meet you, BowTye. I’m Justin.”
“My pleasure,” BowTye said in a rich, deep voice as they shook hands. BowTye then extended his hand to Keith.
“I’m Keith,” the other teenager muttered. Not bothering to stand, he briefly took his hand off of his sandwich and shook BowTye’s hand. In an awkward instant Keith wiped his hand back and forth on his pants leg. BowTye’s face registered his reaction and he tilted his head down at the floor. Every adult in the room exchanged glances.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After lunch the boys met Curt outside. The incident that had occurred in the pro shop, while overlooked at the time, was not forgotten. Rather than c
hastising Keith in front of the others, Curt was trying to figure out ways to enlighten him. What would cause him to react like that? He wondered. The moment passed and it was off to the next chore.
“Now what are we going to do?” Keith groaned showing again that he was not fond of working.
“Just a little something that we have to do every week,” Curt persisted. He grabbed an empty plastic trash can as well as several fifty-gallon trash bags and placed them into the back of the utility vehicle. “Hop in. We’ve got to empty the trash containers out on the course.”
“That’s a crock of crap for a job,” Keith protested.
“Hey, we’ll have none of that language out here. You’re the one that got yourself in this situation.” The boys jumped in and Curt turned toward the eighteenth green. “What I found out is that it’s easier to go backwards on the golf course. In other words, we want to start at the green and go toward the tee.”
“Why is that?” Justin inquired.
“That way we can keep an eye on the golfers that are hitting toward us. If we come up on some of them, then we’ll probably want to stop and watch them hit. We don’t want to get in their way and disturb their round,” Curt responded.
“That sounds so stupid,” Keith challenged. “Who cares?”
“We want to extend the proper etiquette to our golfers,” Curt clarified. “It’s our business and we want them to enjoy themselves so that they’ll come back.” They pulled up to the eighteenth tee. “Now which one of you wants to guess what the finish line is on this project?”
“If we’re going backwards, then I’d say that the finish line for this job is the first tee box,” Justin speculated.
“That’s right,” Curt said as he heaped praise on Justin. “It will take us a while, but since it’s a nice day, let’s enjoy being outside.”
Justin went to the sign on the tee box and took the plastic trash container that was attached to the post off of its resting spot. He emptied the contents into the garbage can.
“Now the reason that I brought these trash bags with us is so we can sift through the items and separate the cans from the plastic bottles and sort through the Styrofoam containers, candy wrappers, and banana peels,” Curt explained. “Here are some plastic gloves too so you don’t get your hands dirty.”