Out Of Town Blues

I'm not out of town, I just have the blues because someone else is. A friend went to Chicago last week and he is the guy who runs our golf group on Wednesdays (and, to a great extent, on Fridays... which is supposed to be run by Pete). I not only gave him a ride to the airport (and will be picking him up on Tuesday), I volunteered to cover for him this past Wednesday (and help on Friday while Pete ran it... It is, officially, Pete's group on Friday). He accepted because, I think, no one else volunteered to fill in.

It was a disaster, of course, even though Joe (that's the friend) had computerized the system. I wasn't familiar enough with the system to do as good a job as I wished. I did the best I could but managed to cheat myself out of a second place award ($5) and never did get an accurate (or any) score for one player. Still, as I was leaving, I was told, "You did a good job. There's no way I want to do it!" by one of the regular players.

I know I need to get a correct score for the player I missed (and compensate him, if necessary) and emailed Joe that sentiment. Even though Joe strongly suggested I not do that, I probably will anyway. Otherwise, it will bother me for some time. That's the kind of schlub I am, I suppose.