After seeing multiple beer cart girls on my Tiktok “For You Page,” I decided it would be the perfect summer occupation for me. Riding around in a golf cart all day selling beer, what could be better than that?? Well, probably a lot of things. I hope I’m not bursting anyone’s bubble, but working the beer cart is not as glamorous as it may seem.
What is a beer cart girl? Good question. Let me take you through an average day on the job. I arrived at the course at eight in the morning, and was the first person in the club house (not counting the people in the pro shop). I would grab my keys and drive the beer cart (which is basically a golf cart with a giant cooler on the back) to the loading dock. Then, I would go back into the club house, grab my inventory sheet, iPad, and money pouch. Then, I would go to the cart room and start to get my drinks together. I probably would put about seventy drinks on the cart at a time, ranging from beer to seltzers to shots to mixers, and haul everything out to the cart in plastic tubs. Then, I would count everything to make sure I had the right numbers, fill the cart with ice, and start my rounds. Getting the cart ready usually took about an hour, so by nine I was usually on the course. I spent my day driving the course, selling beers and Bloody Marys to guys who talked like you would expect a Fox Newscaster would.
Though most of the guys I sold to were only kind of invasive, there were a few times I felt really uncomfortable and unsafe. My first day on the job, I was asked by a guy if I counted my calories. His friend then laughed and said “Look at her, she can eat whatever she wants. She needs a slice of pizza!” First of all, neither of them had any right to comment on my weight and my appearance. And secondly, who randomly asks someone they don’t know about their calorie count? Weird. Pretty much every day I was asked how old I was or where I lived, which may not seem out of the ordinary, but it always felt like they were asking another question on the down low. Guys always tried to bribe me with drinks and ask me to take shots with them, to which I would normally respond, “It’s ten in the morning!” Some guys would stand way too close, or stare at my butt or my chest. A few even asked for my number (and yes, they were all old enough to have been my father).
The most frustrating thing about the job was that I just had to sit there and take it. I couldn’t speak up for myself and call them out for behaving badly because I was risking making money. As a waitress (technically), I got paid five dollars an hour, so to make the job worth my time, I needed to make tips, and to make tips, I had to deal with the uncomfortable flirting and weird comments. I often felt like I was trading my dignity for money, but I needed the money. So ladies, before you take the job, consider how you’ll feel after you laugh at an old guy’s intrusive comment to make ten bucks. I made a lot of money this summer, so it was worth it in that regard, but I can’t say I’ll be going back next summer. Happy end of golf season everyone!