Okay Brian, you revived it, I'll add to it. It's a bit wordy, but since there is so little going on these days in the forums, I figured, what the hell? So, here's a couple anecdotes from the worker's perspective.
I worked on the grounds crew at my local public golf course many, many, many years ago, back when I was 19. I had a fun time. You wouldn't believe the jobs I was given, considering I was a new guy, a young guy, and basically a mostly inexperienced golfer to boot. Some days I actually got to cut new holes. My boss would say, "move everything to section 6 today." That was the extent of his direction to me. I had a chart showing me section 6, but no advice as to strategic placements. I'm sure there were many days where golfers said "Who the hell picked THIS location!" I have since played at courses and asked myself that same question, then thought back to when I cut some of those holes and surmised, it was probably somebody like the 19-year-old me.
As a course worker I was supposed to be considerate of golfers. One day, another worker and myself were in a hurry to get back to the shop for our 1/2 hour lunch break, which was always from 11 to 11:30 sharp. For whatever reason we were behind schedule and realized the only way to get back by 11 was to drive the work cart at full speed (which is far faster than a regular golf cart) whenever there was no one around who could see us. We didn't want to give up a minute of our break. We knew all the short cuts, but sometimes we had no choice but to ride down the side of a fairway in the rough. Whenever we were near a golfer, we would go slow and go wide around them. But when there were no golfers around, we were running pedal-to-the-metal.
On this particular day I was driving. We came onto the last hole we would have to travel down before jumping off to the utility path that brought us back to the shop. There were no golfers anywhere in sight. I was driving like a mad man. As I got to the crest of this one particular large hill/hump on the left side of the fairway, I never let up. We caught air off it, traveling a good 10 feet with our wheels off the ground. As we cleared the crest in mid-air, only a few feet out of our flight path, to our surprise stood a golfer in the middle of his back swing trying to hit out of the rough.
It's safe to say we were far more than a distraction to him. He may have needed new underwear. We didn't wait around to check. We just kept going and yelled "SORRY!"
Thankfully, he must not have complained. We never got in trouble for it. Of course, there were no such things as cell phones back then. By the time that guy finished his round, he had probably cooled off. Today, I'm sure we would have been reported immediately. Probably wouldn't even have finished lunch before it got to our boss and we got reamed out. In fact, today, I'd be the first one to call and complain to the pro shop.
Ah, those were the days.