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Confessions of a Squash Club Manager
Episode 1

by Dean Brown

Welcome to confessions of a squash court manager. Each episode is an actual event that has happened to me whilst working at my squash centre, which to protect peoples identities I will be calling the Corleone Squash Centre. This is in reference to my nick name around squash circles; the Squash godfather.

Monday's, don't we all hate Monday's? - the shitiest of all days starting with M, the perfect way to ruin a great weekend.
I was hoping today would be different and I would  be energized and glad to be alive by some of the lovely Corleone Squash Centre’s happy and jovial customers... fat chance!

Pulling into the car park of my squash centre the usual suspects are waiting for me, two old cronies named Gary and Jack, along with their usual smart arsed comments. The perfect way to start a Monday...NOT! 
"Late again Squash godfather, how do I get a job like yours?" Jack asked, obviously his turn to be the comedian of the duo today. How fucking original, I have been hearing this same line every Monday for the past 7 years. Try working a lot fucking harder for a lot fucking longer and you might have half a chance moron.

"Nice one Jack. My alarm didn't go off, traffic was hell, dog ate me homework; but I suppose you don't give a shit about about my excuses do you?" I answered, slowly trudging towards the squash centre door..
"Not really," he said, "Just hurry up open the bloody door will ya, I ain't gettin any fuckin younger," he grizzled.
The day was not starting the way I hoped it would, meaning it was looking like a typical Monday.
I got the two old pricks onto a court and away they went, happy as a couple of very old pigs in mud.

10AM saw the arrival of a couple of fresh new faces to the Corleone Squash Centre.
"Hi guys, welcome to the Corleone Squash Centre. How may I help you? A game of squash I hope, because if it's golf your after your in the wrong fucking place," I said, keen to make a good impression on some fresh meat.
"Can we grab a court for an hour please?" One of the newbies asked.
"Certainly guys, twenty five dollars and your off and running," I said." Just go down to court 9, I'll turn the lights on for you." What a host!

Everything was rolling along peacefully until about fifteen minutes into their session, one of the fresh new faces came around to the counter with a startling revelation.
"Do you know there are several dead spots on some of the floor boards on court 9," he asked, with a genuine look of distress on his face.
"WOW, holy shit, no kidding. Just hang on a second while I shoot down to the hardware store and grab a sledgehammer to rip em up with and then I will re-lay some new ones," I said, in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
He walked away back to the court, now with a stunned look on his dopey face.

 What a dick head. What did he possibly think I would do?...... even if I did give a shit.

Another happy customer

Good squashing
Squash godfather