Female caddies. They are few and far between. Fanny Sunesson is probably the most famous (looping for Nick Faldo) to caddie on the PGA Tour (player’s wives notwithstanding). There are a good amount on the LPGA Tour though.
Longtime male caddies have oodles of stories about wheels-off golfers they’ve endured over the years. But female caddies have to also deal with client’s cheesy pick up lines and clueless chauvinistic behavior–including peeing in public on the course.
Maggie Bigelow writes an excellent piece for Golf World on the highs and lows of being a female caddie. The long article is worth your time
“No one really tells you how to do it. Everything you learn is either from observing other caddies, or being yelled at by a golfer.”
Bring snacks in your pockets or caddie vest. Four hours of walking up hills with 30 pounds on your back can make you ravenous.
Expect to make less money when you caddie for female golfers. The club allots two hours two days a week for them called “lady golfing hours.” They only play nine holes, and some of them bring push carts.
Wash your golfers’ clubs off at the end of the day. Put all of them in a big bucket, and go to town with a scrub brush. They’ll come over and hand you a handful of cash, and you’ll remember why you showed up in the first place.
Tournaments can be hell. They are how you make from $500 to over $1,000 a weekend, but the money feels more than earned. I walked more than 20 miles in less than three days, and my feet were sore for a week.
Typically half of golfers get inappropriately drunk, and play terrible golf. The other half take it too seriously, and make a real attempt at winning the prize money. That’s the gist of it.
“Huh. How does a girl get involved in this sort of thing?” he asked, and then proceeded to unzip his pants.
I felt blood rush to my cheeks. A lot of men pee on the golf course, but most warned me prior to starting their stream. At the very least, the average urinator walked a safe distance away. I turned my back, and listened in discomfort to the rhythm of his pee.
By the second-to-last hole, my rage was rising. My back was aching, and not in the usual pleasurably fatigued sort of way. It was more of a fifteen-extra-pounds sort of way. My eyes were still scorched from nearly seeing this man’s genitals, and my pride was wounded every time he asked me why I was caddieing.
Nothing says golfers have to be kind to their caddies. It’s a paid position, so they can be as respectful or disrespectful as they please. But from my somewhat limited experience, the round is a little more enjoyable, the putts read with a bit more accuracy, fewer balls lost, when caddies feel like just one of the guys. Or so to speak, anyway.
Sheesh. Some guys just don’t get it. And never will.