This is a true incident that happened to my cousin, Steve.
Steve is an avid golfer. Goes to tournaments, golfs every weekend, LIVES for golf. Normally plays very well. However, Steve tells of one game, about half way through, when his score went right down the toilet. He was playing pretty good until...
Steve had recently moved from out-of-state to Boise, Idaho. One weekend as he played a round of golf on one of the more popular courses in town, he caught up with two other golfers on the course. Steve asked if they would mind if he "played through" and got ahead of them. The older man, seeing that Steve was by himself, invited Steve to join them and play as a group. Steve thought that that would be all right, introduced himself, "Hello, I'm Steve Welker," and offered his hand.
The older gentleman shook it and said, "Hello, Steve. I'm John Evans and this is my son," and he introduced the younger man with him.
They started to play the next hole. John said, "Where are you from, Steve? You new here in Idaho?"
Steve remarked that as-a-matter-of-fact he had just moved into Idaho from Portland, Oregon where he had been most of his life.
John asked, "What do you do here in Idaho, Steve?"
Steve replied, "Well, I'm a private investigator. I investigate cases of insurance fraud and court settlements." Steve went on to talk about some of the things he had done, crawling through underbrush for hours with a camera to take pictures of a "handicapped" man hauling wood, a prostitute that was suing in an auto accident case, and such. (But those are another story.)
After a bit, though, Steve felt guilty because he had been doing all the talking, he said, "What do you do, John?"
John's face got one of those I-thought-you-would-never-ask looks as he said, "Well, Steve, I'm the Governor of Idaho!"
And it is at that point that Steve's score went down the toilet.