How to Become a Bev Cart Girl Quick Career Tips

So last month I decided I wanted extra cash without drowning in student debt. Saw this bev cart girl post on some job board and thought – how hard can it be? Grabbed drinks for people? Easy money. Boy was I wrong.

The Cold Start

First thing I did was hit Google looking for tips. Everything said “just be hot and smile” – total BS. Applied to 3 golf courses near me. Got zero replies. Then I realized my resume said nothing about carrying heavy stuff or handling customers. Duh.

Went full detective mode:

How to Become a Bev Cart Girl Quick Career Tips

  • Stalked bev cart girls on Instagram – saw them balancing 40+ drinks in tiny carts
  • Called my cousin who bartends – she laughed saying “you can’t even carry groceries without dropping them”
  • Actually read the job description buried in page 3: “must lift 40lb ice chests daily”

The Humble Pie Interview

Finally got an interview at Piney Creek. Manager took one look at my nails and said “You’ll chip those first shift.” Told me to haul this cooler up a hill as a “test”. Barely made it halfway before my arms gave out.

Got rejected on the spot. Manager said two things I’ll never forget:

  • “This ain’t Instagram – golfers will yell when their vodka tonic’s warm”
  • “Your cart dying on hole 9 is nightmare fuel”

Becoming The Cart

Took 16 rejection calls before changing tactics:

  1. Bought ugly non-slip shoes
  2. Lifted water jugs daily till my arms shook
  3. Memorized every cheap beer/booze combo
  4. Practiced fake smiling through allergies

Landed a trial at Oak Hollow when their cart girl got heatstroke. Shift one was chaos:

  • Spilled 4 margaritas before hole 2
  • Forgot ice (you NEVER forget ice)
  • Golfers complained the cart sounded like a dying raccoon

The Real Juice

After 3 weeks of burns and bruises:

  • Learned to park downhill so coolers slide OUT
  • Stock extra sunglasses – drunk dudes pay $20 for cheap shades
  • Carry band-aids for golfers who whack themselves with clubs

Still sweating buckets and the tips ain’t great. But yesterday some grandma golfer tipped me $50 for remembering her weird bourbon-lemonade mix. This gig’s brutal but those tiny wins? Pure gold.

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