What is it about some people who have the need to play hall-monitor? The place where I play golf isn’t particularly fancy (actually, it’s not fancy at all) but I’ve been reminded of some sort of “dress code” on a few occasions. The thing a few people have gotten terribly upset about is that I didn’t have my shirt tucked in right before I was going to tee off. The first time someone bothered me about it (a very dour woman in the pro shop) I just pretended like I didn’t hear her and went about my merry way thinking she might be having flashback to the 50′s when anyone would even care about something so stupid. But it happened again! And the second time I told the guy off because he started grabbing at my shirt tail but it was the third time where I had to put a stop to this or I might get very upset in public. I told the guy, an older gentleman who I know and who works for free as the marshal that there is in fact no dress code here, I checked and he needed to back up off me. Rather than ease up and remember that I’m a client here (sure it’s very cheap but we’re talking customer service and it shouldn’t matter that this isn’t a fancy or expensive place) he gives me even more attitude and tells me he’ll get me a copy of the rule book. Ok. Enough. I’m done

So, I send a note to the GM and have to ask that he inform his staff about the fact that:
1. People who play, pay to do so and should be treated with respect
2. There is no shirt-tucked-in dress code
3. And even if there was one, which there isn’t, they shouldn’t confront people about it since it’s stupid and trivial.

What I sent wasn’t actually that mean, I just asked that if he valued us as customers he’d make sure this was stopped or if he doesn’t, that’s fine too but we’d not play there anymore. The response was what I expected, he apologized and made sure people were instructed. The problem is I realized that playing there wasn’t for me because the people that play there and the people that work there aren’t my people. All i wanted was a close place to play golf and tennis that was affordable and friendly. Sadly what I found was a bunch of angry old people, bad food and attitude. Hell, we could go to Florida and get that. I think we’ll end up playing somewhere else.

The A3 started acting up the other day in a very non-Audi sort of way… The battery kept dying. So, since it needed to get some other stuff looked at, I brought it to the dealer. Sadly there were no loaners and I was given a rental car from the on-site Enterprise rep. I had a choice between a Dodge Avenger and a Chevy Malibu. Not much of a choice but I decided that Mopar would win here.

The difference between an Audi A3 and a Dodge avenger is more than skin deep. This monstrosity apparently had nothing to do with the Damlier / Chrysler relationship because not one part on this cas is even close to something MB would make. The plastic on the interior is something out of a TicTac dispenser. In fact, I think it’s made entirely of TicTac dispensers.

Then there is the engine and suspension. Engine: gutless. Suspension: made of pogo sticks
Oh, and the tires: sidewalls as soft as an eclair.

All in all, the car is so crap it’s scary to drive.