Labor goes many ways

Anybody driving Interstate 80 through Pennsylvania realizes thousands of desolate acres cover the northern part of the state and a stop somewhere in the middle makes the journey more tolerable.

On the return trip from Jersey City, N.J., to Cleveland following last month’s GCBAA Summer Meeting, I decided to stop in State College, Pa. College football fans – and numerous turfies – recognize State College as the home of Penn State University. State College is a place I called home for seven years. And, no, I wasn’t a class-skipper who needed 14 semesters to earn a degree from my native state’s flagship university. For the record, I attended a Big Ten school whose name, initials and colors I never mention during football season. Hint: it doesn’t have a turf program and basketball is athletic priority 1A, 1B, 1C and 1D.

The stop in State College served a work and personal purpose. I wanted to see the Penn State Golf Courses, a 36-hole facility where I spent almost two years working a “hobby job” around a demanding full-time sports writing gig. More specifically, I wanted to visit and thank superintendent Rick Pagett, assistant superintendent Scott Martell and anybody else on the crew who might have remembered my feeble attempts at mowing lasers and raking bunkers.

Rick, Scott and retired assistant superintendent Don Chester are big reasons why I hold an incredible job serving an amazing industry. I came to the trio in August 2010 looking to satisfy a passion for working on golf courses despite already spending more than 50 enjoyable hours a week chasing sports stories and career goals. I would have understood had they turned the Buffalo Turbine in my direction and whisked me back to a saner place. But they invited me into the shop, and I convinced them I could handle leaving one job at 1 a.m. and arriving at another one at 5:30 a.m.

The schedule they created involved five-hour shifts Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Given the demands of my full-time job, it was about the most extra work I could handle. Realizing I had a passion for golf stemming from caddying as a teenager, my sports editor Walt Moody offered no resistance when I told him I was working a “hobby” job. I somehow squeezed in time to begin reading a certain magazine during this hectic period.

Rick, Scott and Don’s flexibility – and Walt’s support – entered my mind when editing Bruce Williams’ analysis of non-traditional scheduling (page 20). As wonderful as having a crew filled with employees dedicating 40 hours per week to your course sounds, it doesn’t match reality. Finding labor is tough, bordering on near impossible in some places. Even Rick and Scott, who manage a pair of golf courses across the street from a major university with a renowned turf program, struggle filling positions.

The days of having dozens of applicants willing to work from 5:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. five days per week, including at least one weekend shift, are over. Retiree and student networks help; H2B programs carry some facilities through peak seasons. We have heard stories of courses turning to local prisons for labor, and few industry images spark as much curiosity as automated mowers and rakes.

In addition to non-traditional scheduling, we explore night maintenance (page 12). Restaurants and bars fill positions with employees who also hold full-time jobs. Could night maintenance provide golf courses with similar workers?

Your first inclination might be to shout “NO WAY” and slam this magazine. It’s a natural reaction. We often spend more time convincing ourselves why something won’t work instead of crafting a plan that might actually solve a problem.

By working 15 hours a week, I didn’t solve a fraction of the Penn State Golf Courses’ labor issues. I went away when my full-time job became too intense. But I gave a trio of managers struggling to fill positions a reliable body during a few busy stretches. They gave me a chance to work on a golf course again. Both sides received fulfillment. Isn’t that the goal of successful labor arrangements?