Cart Whisperer (That’s Right — $350 Flat Rate, No Refunds)

I finally found my calling.

It ain’t in sales.
It ain’t in preaching.
It sure as hell ain’t in physical labor.

Nah, friend — turns out I was born to drive a golf cart.
Not play golf. Not caddie. Not “assist.”
Just drive the damn cart… and make the whole damn day better by being there.

That’s it. That’s the gig.
They call me the Cart Whisperer now. And by they, I mean me. But still.

🪑 So what do you get for your $350?

A caddie?
Nope.

A life coach?
Hell no.

You get a fully licensed, emotionally detached, whiskey-voiced, middle-aged man who knows how to:

• Brake smooth.

• Accelerate with confidence.

• Play music just loud enough to scare off your thoughts, but not your sponsors.

🍺 What I do:

• Say things like “Mmm… bold choice with the 7 iron” as you chunk it 40 yards.

• Point out squirrels mid-backswing.

• Laugh at your bad shots before you do, so you don’t have to pretend it’s funny later.

• Call out “Hell yeah, that dog’ll hunt!” anytime a shot stays remotely airborne.

I keep the cart moving, your pride alive, and your beer cold.
I’m basically the human version of a glove compartment — useless until you need me, then suddenly I’m all you can think about.

🧼 What I don’t do:

• Clean your balls (grow up).

• Rake bunkers (I ain’t the grounds crew).

• Offer advice (“aim left” ain’t advice — it’s a prayer).

• Pretend like this isn’t a midlife crisis in khaki shorts.

🚩 A few bonuses:

• I do not care about your scorecard. If anything, I’ll fudge it higher for humility.

• I will absolutely stop the cart mid-hole to stare at a hawk like it’s a sign from God.

• I tell stories that may or may not be true but feel true, which is more important.

🛻 Why me?

Because you’ve golfed with your “buddies.”
You’ve paid for swing tips from some 19-year-old who ain’t lived long enough to know regret.
You’ve had “fun” before.

But you ain’t never had a round with The Cart Whisperer.

I’m the upgrade you didn’t know your country club needed.
I’m what happens when Southern wisdom, medical leave, and a gas-powered vehicle collide.
I don’t even watch golf. But I’ll make you feel like your round matters… at least to the cart.

$350.
Cash.
No refunds.
No regrets.
Only vibes, velocity, and very questionable commentary.