Jan 21, 2011


This is life with Some Guy Named Bob. 


We had a golf tee time this morning at 9:15.   Under ideal circumstances,  if the planets align correctly, if one allows for the Coriolis force and adjusts for the barometric pressure, Some Guy Named Bob will arrive at 9:18ish and hustle down the first fairway to catch us.

Absent those conditions, all bets on his whereabouts and arrival, are off.

Add to that a golf tee time is generally only approximately correct.  It depends upon the speed of play. 

At 9:02 we found ourselves, minus Bob, second in line to tee off.  A group of four octogenarians preceded us,  so there was still an outside chance that Bob might arrive in time to not be late.

At five past nine, Bob called me to say that he was on his way and that he would be there in a "few minutes".  I get this call each Thursday a few minutes before starting time.

No one knows for sure why Bob is habitually late but because Bob has a serious hoarding problem, I suspect he stops at thrift shops along the way, losing track of time. 

We have given up on him and we tee off when we are told to do so, Bob be damned.  We figured this tactic might encourage him to get there on time, but so far, not so much.

Anyway, I told him we were second up and that he needed to hurry.  I also told him that there were groups waiting behind us, so waiting for him was not an option.

At 9:12 we teed off, with no sign of Bob.

At 9:22, as we finished up hole one, Bob called again.  I figured he was at the first tee, looking for us.  In classic Bob fashion,  he was at the wrong golf course, a mere 8.6 miles away.  His new estimate of his arrival in the right place was "in 10 minutes". 

That estimate would have required an average driving speed of 51.6 mph to be accurate. At least according to my subsequent Googley research.  Hooterville has no crosstown freeway, so the best possible travel time between courses is 25 minutes. 

Around 10 am he found us on the 4th hole.

It is not as if Bob got bad info from someone.  Bob made these reservations, and even called the Seafood King yesterday to make sure we were "squared away" on the time and place.   Physician heal thyself.








Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

7 comments:

The Bug said...

LOL - Bob is a sorry case indeed. That is too funny that he MADE the reservations. Do you think he subconsciously doesn't WANT to play golf?

mouse (aka kimy) said...

time is such a fluid concept....

good luck!

Reya Mellicker said...

People who are habitually late drive me totally crazy, maybe because I'm always on time. You're a good friend, Merle. You are!

fifthelephant said...

maybe he should be called Some Guy Named Late Bob.

Perpetual Chocoholic said...

Some days I feel like Bob.

Bella Rum said...

This is downright subversive behavior and should be halted... or is is passive aggression. I forget. Um.

Megan said...

I do love SGNB. In an "I'm so glad I don't have to deal with him" way.