The Cubicle Warrior’s Double Life: Tee Time

The Cubicle Warrior's Double Life

“We are sending this email to confirm your tee time for Saturday afternoon at 1:40. Please arrive to the course at least 30 minutes prior to your tee time. Thank you!”

How could he forget that he and his compadres had drunkenly reserved a tee time the other afternoon at arguably the hardest course in the area? He only ever played at this course when it was with a client or his uncle that beat him by 20 strokes every time. Ben shrugged and continued through his day while getting very excited to golf with the crew this weekend.

Ben woke up Saturday morning to Jake straddling him in bed aiming a phone camera at his face while Nick poured an ice cold Busch right into his open snoring mouth. He was going to ask his friends how they got into his townhouse, but then he realized he can never underestimate them. He got up and threw some clothes on to walk out in his living room where Dylan was taking Snapchats with Ben’s dog to swoon over some girl he met at Applebees last week.

Ben groggily muttered a question he had asked too many times before. “What the fuck are y’all doing?”

“Come on bro! It’s time to go!”

It didn’t matter that their tee time wasn’t for six hours because Ben’s amigos were ready to get drunk. They threw the rest of the Busch in the Yeti and jumped in Ben’s Tahoe. Ben always drove everywhere because Jake was a terrible driver, Nick had a suspended license, and Dylan didn’t have a car. They ordered a pitcher each when they got to Hooters and harassed the waitress until they finally left for their tee time.

When they arrived at the course, they got after it. There were three snowmen recorded on the first hole and they were already worried about running out of beer. Jake took the golf cart to the Tahoe to grab the Yeti and some bungee cords and they had the thing attached to the back on the cart in no time. BACs continued to elevate as the group approached the turn and carried on into the back nine.

Dylan’s tee shot went wide right on the par-5 14th, so he and his cartner Jake went searching through the woods. Jake doesn’t just suck at driving cars, he sucks at driving golf carts too. As he drifted off the cart path he auto corrected and tossed the Yeti off the back. The guys all ran to the scene as if a puppy had just been run over and began to clean up the mess and regroup. Dylan quickly punched back out into the fairway when all of a sudden a random golf ball landed about 10 feet from Ben. Ben whipped out his hybrid faster than Johnny Manziel can ruin a career and hit the ball right back at the group behind them.

“Yo what’s their problem man?! We aren’t being that slow, we just had a little spill!” Nick was ready to fight.

The debauchery continued until they got jammed up at the par-3 17th. As they waited for the group in front of them, two more carts rolled up behind them. Ben took a quick peak and immediately noticed one of his top clients.

“Oh shit. One of my clients was in that group behind us guys.”

“Hey, which one of you assholes hit my ball back at me?!” It was Richard, a client whose voice Ben recognized too well. The same client he had been on the phone with for weeks now trying to land a deal.

“Richard! Great to see you.” Before Ben could continue on with the bullshit Nick drunkenly chimed in and blamed Ben for the ball that had been sent back. Ben’s heart sank into his stomach as he looked at his client waiting for all hell to break loose. Richard paused for a moment and then walked up to Ben.

“Never would have I ever expected a ballsy move like that from a nice guy like you. Let’s get lunch on Monday, we have a deal to close.”

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Just a big dude from Virginia who loves Dale Earnhardt, guns, and eating red meat.

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