======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ==== ======= ======= ====== ====== ====== ===== ==== ====== ====== ===== ====
“Played golf with Garrett from accounting on Saturday. Big mistake. Huge douchebag.”
“Shitty golf swing?”
Whoever it was that came up with the phrase, “You can tell a lot about a man from his golf swing” is easily one of the wisest guys to have ever held a 9-iron. It’s an exact science. You show me someone who is socially inept — be it in the workplace, a happy hour, at their kid’s tee-ball game, or even a funeral — and I’ll show you someone who swings a golf club like he’s been instructed by retards his entire life. If you see someone on the range swinging like your 13-year-old sister, you can safely bet three paychecks that he is as cool as syphilis. He probably rollerblades on weekends with his son, decked out in matching protective gear: wrist guards, elbow pads, helmet, kneepads, and probably a rape whistle.
These people don’t deserve, or belong in, important roles in business or society.
In the corporate world, this theory becomes most applicable. Having at least a halfway decent golf swing is vital to the advancement of your career, depending on your field. I’d argue that still frames of a job applicant’s golf swing should even be featured on his résumé. It’s not that you have to be knocking down flagsticks and spinning it back like Vijay Singh, but you need to be able to belong out there, or at least be good at pretending to belong. A strong swing shows fortitude. It shows gumption and character, confidence and class. It shows proper upbringing and it shows pride.
Let me help translate this into practical business terms. Let’s say you’ve got a great product you’ve finished developing, and you’re ready to finally push it. You’re ready to turn those countless hours, those sleepless nights, that vast research, and those tens or hundreds of thousands of development dollars into revenue. It’s now time to choose your distributor. You’ve got it narrowed down to the two biggest, most reputable in town. Per American corporate custom, you hit the links with each company’s pitchman — a feeler round of golf. You’re sitting on a clear winner, so they want your business, and they want it badly. For argument’s sake, let’s assume all aspects of each company are equal.
Company A sends Gary: a 5 handicap with a power drive, an adequate approach game and a soft touch around the dance floor. Gary, being the golfing enthusiast and gentleman of the game that he is, brings you a fine cigar and buys you a drink after the round.
Company B sends Connor: a topping, slicing, mock-turtleneck wearing, “which club should I hit here?” excuse for a golfer that looks like he’s out there swatting flies instead of swinging a golf club. It doesn’t matter which club you hit, Connor, because you can’t hit any of your fucking clubs the way they’re supposed to be hit. Whose clubs are those anyway? Fuck you, Connor.