John thinks pretty furiously when something like this comes up, and always gives a very definite opinion. When the President follows his advice and makes a good shot in so doing, he makes John feel like just about the biggest brain that's come along since Einstein.
The two main points that Rip Arnold made clear to John before he tackled this job were that he should talk to The Boss as little as possible and never make him wait on a shot. To ease John's early tension, Rip was around the first time they went out together and that sort of helped.
John is a fair golfer himself, though he doesn't get a chance to play much now that he works in the pro shop. He shoots in the low 90's and thinks he could do a lot better if he put in more time at it, although he's bad with the woods.
With the President's clubs disposed of, he went inside the shop to go back to work on the regular job. A twosome was waiting to tee off. John fetched their clubs and took them out back to the yard where the caddies waited. As John handed them over, four cars in a tightly knit caravan headed out of the Cherry Hills driveway. There were three small sedans and a big, black limousine in front.
"There he goes," John said, with a little rise of excitement in his voice. "He sure is one of those golfers it's easy to caddy for. You don't bump into them too often."
Probably not, though caddies no doubt bump into them a little more often than they bump into Presidents.