by James Quinn
The Burning Platform
I first met Richard (not his real name) in the fall of 2010. I had just joined a club and his golf group. He was a large, plodding man who enjoyed walking the golf course while guiding his battery powered golf cart around via remote control, sometimes with comic results such as dumping his cart and clubs into a sand trap. He always blamed the mishap on a malfunctioning remote controller. Oh sure, Richard. We shared one common quirk on the golf course. We both wore Sketchers walking sneakers (50 bucks!!!!) while everyone else wore various expensive brands of soft-spike golf shoes. Comfort over image and style.