I was 17, and my parents rented a house in a secluded country estates, this ginormous idol to suburbia didn’t have many jobs for teens. The main town was twenty minutes away (I didn’t have a driver’s license) which left only three options. Option 1, work at a minimart. Option 2 work mowing lawns door to door and lastly Option 3, work at a golf course. I didn’t want to work at the minimart and the Mexican gardener cartel put me out of business before I even moved there, so the only option I had left was to work as a cart boy and range guardian at a golf course. (I am white I belong on a golf course)
So I turned my application in and did what every young teenage boy did without having someone on the inside. I bugged the hell out of them; I went down to the Golf course every day on my bike and asked as politely as I could for a job. It was only after 3 weeks and twenty visits that I finally got the job.
At the interview I was told that minimum wage was 5.15 an hour, which felt like millions to me. My duties included getting in the cage range cart and scooping up the balls people had hit, and taking care of golf carts once the patrons of the course were done golfing. Once in a while someone would get really lucky and hit my cart and I’d jump because it would make a loud CRACK! usually right behind my head.
This job by itself was uneventful until maybe a month after I had joined.
Let me preface this by saying that I grew up in a very protective and very naïve manner. Some might even say homeschooled.
There was a shack on the enclosure where the carts were kept, it had repair tools and other miscellaneous stuff, but what it lacked in visual beauty on the outside, it made up for on the inside with GRAFFITTI. I first noticed stuff like, “Moses likes boys” and “Moses is gay” and others like “Moses takes it up the butt” and the list goes on and on. When I first read this, the sensitive man in me was hurt. Honestly now, if being gay means being considerate and talking about current events AND not talking about fucking chicks all the time then sign me up. Unfortunately I had the self-confidence of a teenage Niles Crane from Frasier and so the abuse continued.
I responded by writing, “Matt is cool” and Steve is a good person” (who were people I thought I were “writing the mean things on the wall”) I laugh now, I think Jesus would have kicked them in the nards and called it an accident but then WWJD wasn’t popular then. This kind of sensitive Christian defense didn’t really do much, the abuse turned to a more verbal outlet, there were laughs when I walked away, saying stuff about me in ear shot and then acting surprised when I got closer, and the little things like driving away when I wanted a ride (so I had to walk 4 holes back to the enclosure) Little stuff when I look back on it, but abuse none the less. Granted this abuse is nothing that actual gay teenagers deal with day in and day out but no one should have to deal with being teased while they work.
One day at work, Matt (this blonde kid who looked like the blonde kid from cobra kai in karate kid) thought it would be a good idea for me and him to spar. You know, throw our fists at each other while still on the clock. There was one stipulation that we would fight until the first blow was landed and then stop as if nothing happened……….
To be continued……..
Respectfully Moses Follivan.