Flying to Thailand to play golf seems unnecessarily extravagant. And I wouldn't be doing it if there were a more efficient way to get some time with the chief financial officer of Phrukitt Industries. But the only invitation that I know this guy will accept is for a round of golf.

 

So I fly in, and drive up about two hours from Bangkok to meet him in a place called Khao Yai. I don't actually drive, of course. I sit in the back and try not to look out the windows.

Watching what is going on while hurtling down a Thai highway is a sure way to induce a heart attack or involuntary bladder activity in any sane person. The slow-moving and massively overstocked trucks drift randomly back and forth, creating a swaying obstacle course. Trying to drive through these objects at 120km/h would be an entertaining video game, but in real life it is nothing short of terrifying.

Once we have reached our destination, I unpack my golf clubs and head up to the clubhouse. I order a fresh lime soda in the open-air restaurant and stare out at the view of a lush green jungle with a great big strip of grass carved through the middle of it. My client soon arrives and we head over to the first tee. This is where my problems begin. Almost any sports psychologists will tell you that you need to have a positive attitude when striking a golf ball. The one thing you must not think about is what could go wrong.

I know this. I've discussed this with other golfers many times. And yet I just cannot think, as my club descends towards that small, white, evil little ball, of anything except how embarrassed I will be if I mistime my swing and the ball does nothing more than dribble along the ground a few metres. Which is exactly what happens.

I resist the urge to scream all of the swear words I know, avoid making eye contact with anyone and mutter about taking a penalty while I get another ball. With my next shot, I manage to hit the thing at least far enough that the caddie will have to drive us in the golf cart to get to my ball.

The caddies are all Thai women with huge sun hats and matching uniforms.  The uniforms are bright orange in order to reduce the likelihood of the people wearing them being hit by talentless golfers.  My caddie, whose name is Poi, encouragingly says to me on our way to the edge of the fairway:

“You first time play golf?”

I think about this question for a while and come to the optimistic conclusion that she omitted the word “here” from the end of the question.

“Yes, but I like it very much so far” I say not quite truthfully.

I struggle through the next nine holes playing my normal game: on average I manage two good shots in a row, followed by a third shot that I believe I have played exactly the same as the previous two, but which turns out to be complete rubbish.

At the halfway point we stop for a drink in the shade and I discover to my surprise that I am winning by a solid margin. This is not a good outcome, as losing appears to have put my client in a very bad mood.

The whole point of client entertainment is develop a rapport, to make clients feel comfortable around you and feel good about hiring you. With this guy staring forlornly into his mineral water, I am in danger of having made this trip and played this game for nothing.

It's not that my client is a worse golfer than I am. His real disadvantage is that he is not prepared to accept his lack of ability. When his ball is within a couple of metres of the green, for example, he does not do what a sensible bad golfer does, swallow his pride and putt the thing to within striking distance of the hole. Instead, he consistently gets out the pitching wedge and spends the next five or so shots sending his ball sailing from side to side over the green.

There is of course only one thing for it. I have to change my strategy. I somehow have to try to play worse.

Not trying to win is very relaxing, and after my change of tactics the game becomes a lot easier. My swing becomes more fluid and my strokes much cleaner. I go from regularly hitting the bunker while trying to get the ball on the green to regularly hitting the bunker while actually aiming at it.

In addition to playing badly with surprising accuracy, I make a big effort to look frustrated. I hang my head, I yell, and at one point I throw one of my clubs into a pond. Something I've wanted to do for years. My client continues making hopeless mistakes but eventually the score evens out. By the time we get back to the restaurant, he has won by three shots with a tidy 59 over par. He is elated.

"That must have been tough, eh Alan, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory like that!" he gloats.

This, frankly, is a perfect result. In my efforts to lose I've actually played well and made a client very happy.

"You know, if you hire us for your capital raising we'd have plenty of time for a few more rounds," I suggest.

"Sure. Why not?" he says "If you can handle another thrashing!"

I certainly can. This is the first game of golf I've ever enjoyed.