Working at a golf course, I meet a lot ofpeople. One sunny day I was sitting at the first tee when a Lexus pulledinto the parking lot. Not the customer parking lot, but the employeeone. Out stepped a boy of 10, a woman in her mid-40s and a man. He wastall and thin as a rail, with glasses engulfing his face. On his head avisor vainly attempted to control his curly hair. He went into the proshop to pay; I was in a good mood and decided it wasn't worth botheringhim about the parking.

Making his way over to me, he said quicklyand quietly, "I'm hoping we're next."

"Well, sir,you don't have a tee time," I explained. "But I can squeezeyou in after this group."

He seemed enraged.

"Ijust paid to golf with my family," he hissed. "And I want togolf - now! Besides, the lady in the pro shop said I wasnext."

If I had a dollar for every time someone tried topull that trick! I was the starter; the "lady in the pro shop"did nothing but take the money and point them toward me.

When itwas his turn, he planted his feet into the soil, took his Big Berthadriver and began his swing. At the height of his back swing, his wifecould be heard whispering to her son, barely audible over the wind andchatter of the golf course. The man dropped his club and snapped hisbody around like a whip.

"Would you shut up!" heshouted. "You're screwing me up." His family fell silent,complying with his request and not surprised at his short temper andunnecessary anger.

He hit the ball terribly, and blamed it onfalling acorns from the trees. I was amazed at this man's audacity andrudeness. Golf is meant to be fun; you should enjoy yourself whileplaying.

What had this man so tightly wound I do not know, but hemade quite an impression on me. I have vowed that wherever life takesme, I will never be him.