"I'll have fifty old man's balls please"

What I found far more interesting was the interesting nexus of community that this place attracted.

Image Credit: Library of Universal Knowledge

You're fourteen (and nine months) and you’ve just landed a job at a pirate-themed mini golf course and driving range. It takes a while to realise that the older man smirking at you across the counter is asking for a bucket of one hundred golf balls at the reduced senior rate. This will be far from the last awkward innuendo that hangs in the air during your four and half years here and you will never quite work out which of these old gents are in on the joke. 

I, like many teenagers who have just become legally eligible to work, was rabidly excited to enter the workforce, and where could be better than a mini golf centre pockmarked with pirate graves and water features running with Powerade-blue water. Despite being expected to teach children on holiday camps, I managed to end my tenure with only the vaguest and most basic golf knowledge. What I found far more interesting was the interesting nexus of community that this place attracted — both its staff and patrons. 

I learned a lot about the subtle politics of children’s birthday parties and the true heights of chaos they can reach. This was also an attractive date location for other teenagers and the awkward antics of early dating made for excellent people watching. It was the driving range side of the business though that brought the most befuddling customers. Why, for example, if you had struck a magpie with a golf ball, would you bring its corpse in to hold up for the staff without any explanation? 

Our first jobs often leave us with both terrible memories and wonderful stories and there is nothing like hindsight to highlight the absurdity of the scenarios we found ourselves in at such a young age.