The Legend of the Golf Box
I was at a conference earlier this week. At dinner, I was part of a conversation whether golf was still important as a business networking opportunity. The consensus seemed that it was, but for just slightly more than half the people in the room.
I haven’t played golf in nearly a decade. So naturally I was a little surprised to receive a box of Max-Fli golf balls via Klout. I’ll give them to someone who can use them, and spread my largesse and influence.
The last time I played golf, I going to Hilton Head for a week of business meetings and boondogglery at Hilton Head Island, which has some of the most beautiful and challenging golf courses in the world.
If you really want to play there, you should be a good golfer, with the right equipment – PING clubs and the like.
I was schlepping a set of mash-up set of clubs, assembled in pieces from garage sales, hand me downs, and a new putter purchased K-Mart after the head fell off the old one a few years before. If they had their own brand, it would have be something like PONG.
I didn’t travel to golf, and I didn’t have one of those plastic travel cases for schlepping clubs around the globe by air.
I took my luggage and my clubs to the airport, where Delta employees sold me a cardboard shipping box for my clubs for something like $10.
I can’t begin to describe the looks of bemusement on the faces of my colleagues when I showed up at the shuttle to the hotel/resort with a set of junky clubs stored in a cardboard box.
It was a priceless moment, but it wasn’t the best business impression. It was more the kind of moment that leads to work stories that never die. Like they say in those commercials, if you lose in Vegas, you sell your hair to a wig shop. Don’t sell your hair to a wig shop.
In my case, the “don’t be that guy” rule is don’t schlep your clubs to Hilton Head in a golf box.