THE MASTER VISTS “THE MASTERS”….zuki struts his stuff…. sort of

Good Morning Hootie Johnson Wherever You Are,

In the ever widening technical gap between youth and curmudgeon-dom, there was a small but significant victory for those struggling with continual flashing 12:00’s.  Working for a high-tech company forever on the leading edge presents an ongoing challenge for this observer of things.  For those of you not aware of my current employment dilemma, I’ve submitted a plan to increase our market share among less populated cities utilizing a number of federal grant programs.  The younger sales force, several of which were hired by me some 13-15 years ago, has complained about my plan, crying these smaller departments are not worthy of their valuable time.  Considering their collective dismal year in 2011 they have little to stand on.  It’s time to do something different!

Our Product Manager and I were sent to what would be a typical location in my grand scheme to organize and execute a sales presentation to three county and five city (7,000 largest population of five) police departments.  We were to assess and report back.  This morning when I arrived for work, there were two email messages from this abbreviated list asking for formal quotes totaling $9,895.00!!  I was pleased to say the least!

Our Representative who only lives two hours away, declined to show up.  I suspect it was his way of thumbing his nose at my plan but ultimately it did not serve him well.  Not only did the new accounts become house accounts with zero commissions but was put on probation for his f-ing job…long overdue if you ask me!  I’VE BECOME THE MESSINGER OF DEATH!!

Having the mettle and wherewithal to conciliate small town Georgia law enforcement brought about an ebullience I’ve not felt for some time.  With a sense of purpose we made our way to Augusta National Golf Course; home of “The Masters” one of the major tournaments played by professional golfers.  The place is a conservative institution where decorum is paramount; it is a place where traditions and the integrity of the game are jealously guarded.  In short one the last bastions of bigotry that segregates financially; covering their collective asses.  

As we approached the course it became clear this hallowed ground developed by the legendary Bobby Jones is in fact a barbed wired compound with armed guards at every entry point.  It’s like having a beautiful couch but covered in plastic.  You can see the beauty but can’t feel and inhale the luxury.  We were forced to park in one of several overflow lots and cross a busy street.  Once at the “Member Entrance” the large Black man guarding the entry looked at his watch, and without looking up told me I had three minutes to take my ‘photo op.’  This explains the above photo.

Knowing the Augusta National Golf Club to be what it is DID NOT dampen my victory lap at the office though, and strutted around telling my fellow workers and execs “The old man still has it!”  I’ll have to tone it down today as I suspect it’s become a bit over the top.  Even though the immediate order was probably a fluke occurrence, I’m sticking to my story!


  • zuki

    fez, no there is no Mrs. zuki or significant other as my penury existance deters potential lovers.  Most women my age are looking for security not the next ‘greeter’ at Walmart.  Should your co-worker still wish to hook me up with mom, please reply with a current photo….and I mean CURRENT so we can go from there. 

    Simply click on ‘image’ in the lower left part of the box then hit browse then upload and walla it should attach.

    • Bagwan

      I am sure penury existence is somewhere on the list of deterrents.

  • Bagwan

    “One of the last bastions of bigotry that segregates
    financially” — oh my, aren’t we naive. You sound like the new leader of the
    Occupy Augusta protest. The whole world is segregated financially and so many
    other ways. Humans tend to cluster with other similar humans. Did you ever
    notice that the card carrying members of Curmudgeon Corner where all old,
    white, overweight male drunks?

    I know you thought you were going to be given a tour of the
    hollowed grounds. Maybe be allowed to hit a small bag of balls on #12 and have
    a few drinks in the clubhouse with some of the members. The very reason private
    clubs like Augusta National exist is to defend against that type of atrocity.

    Now let’s talk about that order that wound up magically in your
    email on your first morning back. As long as we are talking golf I think the
    term “sandbagging” would apply here. Knowing Zuki, I am guessing that he had
    that order is in pocket before he ever left for Augusta. To be clear I am not
    criticizing here, in fact quite the opposite. Let those young whippersnappers
    know that they are fucking with an old pro.

    Now if you really want to be a member of a club in Georgia,
    I suggest you apply to the group in the picture.

    • zuki

      Funny you should point this out!  That IS the group sipping whiskey on the veranda…jeez

  • fez

    Zuki I assume that’s you in the photo.  We in accounts receivable were curious if there’s a Mrs. Zuki or significant other Zuki?  One of my co-workers wants to set you up with her mother is that even doable?


    A “Victory Lap” for just doing your job?!
    And… So… our Host ZUKI made a sale
    Total ten G’s… neither minnow nor whale
    A pretty good start
    It swelled up his heart
    Still plenty of time left yet to fail!

    Close MOI, close MOI very much.