Don’t turn every disagreement into a corporate emergency.
Dear Callaway,
I understand there has been an incident involving Good Good HR, free expression, and apparently the fate of the golf industry.
Graphic courtesy CBS 8
I want to offer my services. Not as a lawyer. Not as a crisis-management expert. And certainly not as someone who understands what Good Good is doing on the internet.
I am offering myself as a Golf HR Sensitivity Consultant.
My qualifications are impeccable. I have spent years asking the really important questions. For example: Why is my half-ball putter so damn good?
I don’t mean “pretty good.”
I mean unnervingly good.
I have stood over that thing wondering whether I accidentally purchased a putter or some prohibited performance-enhancing device.
That is the kind of question Callaway HR should be investigating. Not somebody’s opinion. Not somebody’s joke.
Not whether a person somewhere on the internet expressed an insufficiently enthusiastic opinion about Good Good. The half-ball putter. That’s where the resources need to go.
Graphic courtesy Golf Digest
And while we’re conducting this investigation, I have another important question: If I buy an Opus wedge, can I get a side of Tour Sauce? I don’t think that’s unreasonable.
I’m already buying the wedge. You’re getting my money. The least you can do is throw in some sauce.
Maybe a little ramekin. Call it customer appreciation. Call it loyalty. Call it whatever you want. Just don’t send it to HR. Because that’s apparently where everything ends up now.
Somebody says something. Someone gets offended. Someone else decides the appropriate response is an internal investigation. Suddenly we’re holding a corporate summit about the philosophical implications of a golf joke.
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s Good Good.
Relax. I have nothing against Good Good. I wish them nothing but success. I hope they make millions of dollars, hit every fairway, and continue producing whatever it is that people apparently watch them produce.
But can we maintain some perspective? We’re golfers. Our biggest ongoing crisis is whether the ball is actually lost or merely “probably lost.”
We don’t need HR determining which opinions are sufficiently acceptable for public consumption. If someone says something you don’t like, you can disagree. If someone says something dumb, you can point out that it’s dumb. If someone makes a joke you don’t find funny, you cannot laugh.
This is an extraordinary concept, I realize. It may require a seminar.
Fortunately, I am available. My proposed Callaway training program would be called: “Free Expression, Free Relief and Free Tour Sauce With Every Opus.”
Module One: Understanding Humor.
Module Two: Understanding Opinions.
Module Three: Understanding That Not Every Bad Take Requires HR.
Module Four: Why Is My Half-Ball Putter So Good?
Module Five: Can I Get Tour Sauce With That Wedge?
Module Six: What are you more likely to watch—another Good Good video, or the Royal Canadian Mounted Police absolutely vaporizing Adam Hadwin at the Canadian Open?
One is a guy making golf content. The other is Adam Hadwin getting turned into a human lawn dart by a Mountie while trying to celebrate his buddy’s victory.
Which raises the obvious question: Why aren’t we conducting sensitivity training on the Canadian Open?
I expect Module Six to be particularly controversial, especially given my background in hockey. The Good Good hit looked less like an act of corporate misconduct and more like Gretzky trying to angle someone off the puck—except apparently this time HR decided to blow the whistle.
The entire program should take approximately four hours, although I can extend it to a full day if Callaway provides lunch.
I would also like to clarify that my training philosophy is very simple: Don’t turn every disagreement into a corporate emergency.
