Upsetting
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
 
Oh, all the rules.

My friend Tom told me that he thought whining worked when it comes to solving problems because “the squeaky wheel gets the grease.”

“But isn’t the squeaky wheel also a pain in the ass?”

We were at the public course near my house, the one that costs $8 for nine holes if you have a resident’s card. Golf isn’t my game, but every couple of months I meet Tom to hit a bucket of balls at the range. It’s kind of an excuse to do something before we go drink beers.

He is a very good golfer, but his swing is violent and awkward. The results, though, are impressive: his 3 wood at the range sailed well past the 250 sign.
I don’t hang out with a lot of golfers, but there’s something refreshing about how Tom doesn’t really follow his shot. He knows it’s going straight, and he has a pretty good idea where it’ll end up.

He turned to me.

“In this day and age, no one gives a shit about the manner in which they conduct their affairs,” he said. “All that matters is the outcome, and if these fuckers cry a little to get their way, I almost have to tip my cap to them.”
 
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