CCC Presents: The Worst Guests in America

Inviting a guest to your private club is like cosigning a loan with your reputation as collateral. Maybe it's that good friend you've been dodging because he still thinks every round is a bachelor party. Maybe it's a business prospect you barely know - a total wildcard who could either land you the deal of a lifetime or get you both banned from the property. Or maybe it's your wife's cousin who just got out of rehab and "really needs to get outside more."

Either way, here's the brutal truth: their behavior is a direct reflection on you. When they inevitably screw up, it's your ass on the line, not theirs. They go home to their public courses and simulator leagues while you're left apologizing to the membership committee.

Not everyone understands country club culture - and no matter how many times you remind them not to change their shoes in the parking lot, to tuck in their shirt, remove their hat indoors, and at least pretend to repair their divots, some guests are simply unteachable. They treat your club like a Dave & Buster's with better landscaping.

Today, Country Club Confidential presents our most wanted list: seven categories of guests who always land their hosts in hot water and never fully understand why!

THE CHEAPSKATE 

This financial phantom arrives at your club with champagne tastes and a water fountain budget. Orders the Macallan 25 neat, the lobster special, and somehow his wallet develops amnesia at every turn. When cornered about payment, he'll produce a crumpled twenty for a $200 tab, genuinely believing he's being generous.

His Venmo is perpetually "acting weird right now" - something about two-factor authentication or a bank link that mysteriously breaks whenever a check arrives. The valet, locker room attendant, and caddie have all learned to spot him from fifty yards: the man who accepts their services with the confidence of a Rockefeller and the gratuity habits of a ghost.

Prior Offenses:

• Pocketing dozens of “free” golf tees, ball marks, pencils and combs from a club

• Asked if member charging had Klarna payment plans

• Claimed the practice green was "basically free golf"

Known Associates:

• The member who invited him "just this once" three years ago

• His cousin who "forgot" to warn you about the wedding cash bar incident

• That guy from accounting who swears "he's good for it"

Warning Signs:

• Rear pocket suspiciously flat (wallet permanently MIA)

• Orders appetizers "for the table" then develops sudden dietary restrictions

• Phone battery dies whenever payment apps are mentioned

MR. 'AT MY CLUB...' 

This insufferable snob treats every guest round like a Yelp review for clubs beneath his standards. Within minutes of arrival, he's already comparing your fairway width to Shinnecock, your green speeds to Oakmont, and your member-guest gift to "what they gave us at Seminole." The tragedy? His actual home club is a semi-private in New Jersey where he buys range balls from a machine.

His running commentary sounds like a Golf Digest ranking nobody asked for: too much poa annua in the greens, the drink pours are "honestly embarrassing" ("real clubs don't over-serve, their members can afford to order another"), and don't get him started on the range balls. Every observation is delivered at keynote volume, ensuring maximum humiliation for his host as other members shoot "who brought this f-ing guy?" looks across the grill room.

Prior Offenses:

• Told the head pro his grip was "interesting, but wrong"

• Asked why the club champion trophy was "so small"

• Suggested the signature hole needed "a real architect's touch"

Known Associates:

• His father-in-law who got him on at one good club once

• The member who's still apologizing six months later

• LinkedIn connections who've never actually met him

Warning Signs:

• Wears a hat from a course he's never played

• Uses "we" when discussing clubs he doesn't belong to

• Name-drops his "good friend" the touring pro who wouldn't recognize him

• Asks about reciprocal privileges before finishing the front nine

THE TRANSFUSION TIMEBOMB 

This walking liability starts every round as your normal golf buddy and ends it as a one-man insurance claim. By the 4th hole, he's three Transfusions deep and screaming "WHO WANTS ANOTHER TRANNY? I KNOW THIS GUY DOES!" at volumes that reach the tennis courts. His deterioration is as predictable as it is unstoppable.

His greatest hits include yelling "BABA-BOOEY!", "MASHED POTATOES!", and "YOUR MOM!" during other members' backswings, turning what should be a peaceful afternoon into a NASCAR infield experience. By hole 12, he shouldn't be operating a shopping cart, let alone a golf cart. When nature calls, he'll stumble into the bushes facing the wrong direction, giving the ladies' tee box an unwanted surprise.

Prior Offenses:

• Drove a cart into the pond on 16 ("The GPS said go straight!")

• Tried to tackle the club president after making birdie

• Ordered breakfast at 3 PM, then fell asleep in his eggs Benedict

Known Associates:

• The member who now has a "one guest per year" restriction

• His wife who tracks his location but stopped answering after 2 PM

• Three former golf buddies who mysteriously "have plans" whenever he texts

Warning Signs:

• Orders a "double Tranny" on the first tee

• Brings airplane bottles "for emergencies"

• Can't remember holes 15-18 (making Aloha bets pointless)

• Starts rating cart girls on a "scale of one to fore!"

THE HUMAN RAIN DELAY 

This geological marvel operates on a timescale that makes glaciers look hasty. He takes more practice swings than a tour pro with the yips, each one accompanied by a full reset of his stance, grip check, and philosophical meditation on club selection. You could read Atlas Shrugged cover to cover in the time it takes him to read his eight-foot putt for double bogey - which he'll still miss.

His signature move is starting a long story about his brother-in-law's boat just as he addresses the ball, then backing off to properly set the scene. At the turn, he'll order a custom tuna cup with "extra relish, no celery, light mayo, wheat not white" while the groups behind contemplate vigilante justice. He searches for lost balls in hazards where no golfer should set foot and both plumb-bobs AND AimPoints putts like he's defending a U.S. Open lead instead of trying to save triple.

Prior Offenses:

• Took 11 minutes to play a provisional "just in case"

• Re-gripped his putter mid-round because "something felt off"

• Caused a six-group backup while ruling if a pinecone was a loose impediment

Known Associates:

• The marshal who follows him like a parole officer

• The 89 year-old member he plays with and blames for his groups slow play

• The pro shop staff who automatically add 45 minutes to his tee time

Warning Signs:

• Studies the yardage book before every shot like it's the SATs

• Asks playing partners to tend the flag on lag putts

• Brings alignment sticks to casual rounds

• Paces off distances from 150-yard markers to confirm GPS readings

THE VOLUME KNOB 

The perfect storm of sonic assault - he's both a volume knob and a complete knob. Unlike the Transfusion Timebomb who crescendos into chaos, this human air horn arrives at maximum volume and stays there. He'll bellow "NICE SHOT JIMMY!" across three fairways without checking if anyone's mid-swing, treating your private club like a driving range on dollar beer night.

His Bluetooth speaker pumps out a playlist that's somehow 40% Creed, 30% Nickelback, and 100% punishment. "WITH ARMS WIDE OPEN" echoes across the manicured landscape while members contemplate whether assault charges are worth losing their membership. But the audio assault is nothing compared to the visual: he's never met a neon color he didn't think he could pull off. Spoiler alert - he can't. His outfit screams louder than his voice, a walking hazard of electric yellow and hot pink that could guide planes to landing.

Prior Offenses:

• Got the club's first-ever noise complaint from the cemetery next door

• Yelled "GET IN THE HOLE!" on a par 5 tee shot

• His ring tone (maxed out) played the entire Chili's baby back ribs jingle during someone's eulogy at the member memorial

Known Associates:

• His deaf golf buddies (only explanation for their tolerance)

• The pro shop staff who "forgot" to charge his speaker last time

• Members who now carry noise-canceling headphones in their bags

Warning Signs:

• Answers phone calls on speaker in the clubhouse

• Tests speaker volume during practice swings

• Wears colors visible from space

• Wears block-lettered golf hats from other country clubs

THE OBLIVIOUS 

This walking question mark arrives at your club like an alien visiting Earth for the first time. He'll wander into the clubhouse wearing cargo shorts, tennis shoes, and no belt, genuinely confused why everyone's staring. You'll drop $300 in the pro shop just to make him presentable enough for the starter to let him on the course - money you'll never see again.

His golf IQ hovers somewhere between zero and "what's golf?" He doesn't know what a mulligan is, but somehow mastered the art of hitting second shots while his first ball is still in play. Thinks bunker rakes are for autumn leaf management and assumes the sand/seed mixture on the cart is "fancy ashtray stuff." When someone yells "Fore!" he'll helpfully shout back "Five! Or maybe twelve!" The saddest part? He genuinely can't tell the difference between your championship course and the abandoned par-3 behind the Dairy Queen. And he never will.

Prior Offenses:

• Tried to return his divot to the exact hole it came from

• Asked if he could "skip the sand trap parts"

• Brought his own hot dogs because "stadium food is such a ripoff"

Known Associates:

• The member who "thought he played before"

• His confused wife who bought him golf shoes that were actually track and field spikes

• The assistant pro who drew the short straw for the emergency lesson

Warning Signs:

• Asks what SPF the course provides

• Thinks "cart path only" means it's a shortcut

• Calls the flagstick "the pole thingy"

• Brought a baseball glove "just in case"

THE AGGRESSOR 

This walking anger management case approaches golf like it personally insulted his mother. He swings with the fury of a thousand suns, and when he inevitably whiffs, helicopters the club into his bag with even more violence. He snaps shafts like a toddler snaps crayons - frequently and without remorse. His bag looks like a crime scene of broken graphite and bent steel.

Golf requires patience and composure, qualities he left in the parking lot with his emotional regulation. Even the UFC might be too civilized for his temper - at least they have rules about hitting opponents after the bell. Give him a wide berth after any missed three-footer (guaranteed to happen multiple times), as he's been known to turn putters into boomerangs. Keep women, children, and anyone with delicate sensibilities at safe distances - his profanity-laced tirades have taught entire youth camps new vocabulary their parents will hear about later.

Prior Offenses:

• Punched a ball washer so hard it needed structural repairs

• Threw his entire bag in the pond, dove in to get it, threw it in again

• Left a putter wrapped around a tree on 18 like a modern art installation

Known Associates:

• His therapist who suggested golf as "relaxation"

• The club repair tech who bought a boat with his business

• Ex-playing partners who now check the tee sheet before booking

Warning Signs:

• White knuckles visible from the parking lot

• Brings clubs pre-dented to save time

• Practices his grip on other people's necks

• Uses Navy SEAL breathing techniques on the first tee

And there you have it - the seven horsemen of the guest apocalypse. If you recognized any of these specimens, our condolences. If you recognized yourself, please consider taking up tennis.

Remember, when you sign that guest registry, you're not just vouching for their ability to play golf - you're co-signing on their behavior, their bar tab, and their potential destruction of club property. Choose wisely, because while bad guests eventually go home, their reputation (and yours) stays forever in the grill room gossip.

The good news? Most guests are perfectly lovely people who appreciate the privilege of playing your club. But for those who aren't, well... at least now you know you're not alone in your suffering.

And if you're a serial offender who's brought multiple categories of worst guests to your club? The membership committee would like a word. Right after they finish reviewing the security footage from last Saturday.

Poll Question

👉 Cast your vote in today’s CCC poll - and forward this story to the poor soul who brought two of these guys to the same round.

Due to the length of this week’s story we had to truncate this email and so we don’t have poll results from last week, but for those of you that voted and commented thank you! We read all the comment and LOVED them! Keep ‘em coming!