We solicited wild stories from cart girls all around the nation. The following are real responses from real cart girls, both past and present. They are disturbing, and golfers everywhere must do better. If you’d like to submit your own stories, email email@example.com. Golf responsibly.
Read the original Cart Girl Chronicles here.
I was forced into writing this by my boyfriend. A few years back, I worked at a very nice public/private in college. Most of the golfers were in their forties or above, but we also had a lot of kids from one of the local high schools. To be blunt about it, they were shits. Little entitled shits. They thought I was hot, and routinely took turns dropping horrible lines on me. I was even asked to prom by one, and when I said no, he responded with, “I was just kidding, bitch.” So that was nice.
That’s no way to speak to a lady. I’m sure that kid went to prom alone and jerked off in the bathroom while he smoked menthol cigarettes.
I was just out of college and working as cart girl at an upscale public course. Tired of all the guys harassing me, I decided to leave my wallet open with a picture of my nephew in hopes that everyone would think it as my son and feel bad being so perverted with him in sight. Within five minutes of trying to make this idea work, one of the guys in the next foursome simply said, “Oh, looks like you’re DTF, huh?” I gave him his beer and just drove away feeling hopeless about humanity.
We are scum.
She ain’t pretty
This wasn’t really directed at me, but I was still there to witness it. I used to work at a public course outside of Ft. Worth. I approached a group of older guys that were having a good time. They clearly brought their own beer on the course, but I didn’t really give a shit so I didn’t say anything. One of the guys teed off and hit the ugliest low slice that ended up rolling like 250 yards and settled into the middle of the fairway. After the shot, he picked his tee out of the ground, looked back at his group and said, “She ain’t pretty, but she’s got big tits!”
I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I love it. I’ll be using that very soon.
Tap the Rockies
Golfers are an entitled bunch. I routinely turned guys down. Married golfers were the worst. I once watched a guy remove his wedding ring, place it in his pocket, and then proceed to approach my cart and order 6 Coors Lights. I handed him 6, and he looked at each one and said, and I quote, “These mountains look blue to you?” Taken aback, I gave him a standard WTF look. It was awkward. When I saw his group on the back 9, he asked for, and again, I quote, “6 more beers and your number.” I told him I could give him the beers, but that I didn’t give my number out to married guys. His friends erupted in laughter and he drove off to the next hole. Douche.
There is nothing more creepy than a married man on the golf course. I don’t understand how it happens, but it does.
Hello there! Here’s something disgusting I witnessed on the 15th hole of the course I worked at in college. A younger guy in his twenties brought his girlfriend out for a twilight round on a weeknight. There were few people on the course that day, and I was about to shut it down because it was so slow. While driving through toward the clubhouse on the back 9, I turned the corner to head down 15. As soon as I did, I noticed a cart parked off to the side of the tee box by the woods. Thinking that was weird, but not wanting to miss out on a potential tip, I pulled around the front of the tee box. That’s where it gets weird. I viewed something that still haunts me to this day:
A full blown hand job in progress.
The worst part was she was staring him right in the face while doing it. They didn’t even acknowledge me, and there’s no way they didn’t hear my loud ass cart. I got the hell out of there and never told anyone what I witnessed.
You can’t do that. You just can’t be out there slinging HJs on the back 9. That’s not how it works. Who are you people?
Image via Shutterstock
If you enjoyed this, check out An Apology To Beverage Cart Girls.