Bayberry Hills Golf Course

If I had to use one word to accurately describe my golfing experience at Bayberry Hills Golf Course, that word would be “despicable.”

Let me paint a picture for you.

June 22nd, 2021. It’s Tuesday morning. I had a 7:07 am tee time with my father-in-law, brother-in-law, and my 14 year old nephew. My father-in-law, who is a well respected local figure, is physically disabled. Because of his condition, he uses a rolling walker for his mobility.

After entering the Pro Shop at Bayberry Hills Golf Course to check-in, we informed the receptionist that three of us would play golf, and that my father-in-law would drive the cart to watch us play. The receptionist proceeded to tell us that my father-in-law would not be able to participate because he didn’t have a bag of clubs with him. We explained to the receptionist that he is incapable of playing, however we would have no problem paying the additional green fees so that he can enjoy watching his family play golf. With a smarmy look that only the dregs of a soulless witch could possibly contain, she told us “That’s the rule. He can’t play.”

That was red flag #1.

After convincing the (not-so pleasant) dead-eyed entity AND paying the additional green fees, she allowed the four of us to proceed with our scheduled tee time. When we walked down to pick up our golf cart, we were met by the starter named Ken.

I have an unusual last name. So do my in-laws. And we’ve heard them pronounced every possible way. It happens, and that’s ok. When you hear someone berate your name in a condescending way, that’s a different story. That is how Ken greeted us which was immediately followed with him informing us that we’re late. Keep in mind, we arrived with time to spare, however the unpleasant interaction with the “I’m completely dead inside” receptionist in the pro shop delayed us by a few minutes. If we’re late, then we’re late. I’m fine with that. I appreciate that you have a business to run. But don’t insult me or my family’s name. That was a big mistake.

That was red flag #2.

So our golf experience was off to a rocky start. It can only get better from this point. Oh, was I wrong.

Now, I’ll be the first to say that I’m not a professional golfer. I’m not even an amateur golfer. In fact, I’m awful at golf. But I do enjoy playing it with my family. As a paying patron, I have every right to play the sport with my family and we proceeded to do so playing in a Best Ball format so that we can keep things moving along.

As we got to hole #4, we noticed that the group of golfers behind us caught up to us, and had to wait for us to complete our round of play. At the rate of play that they were performing, the logical thing for us to do was to let them play through so that we wouldn’t hold them up. It seems like the right thing to do.

As the group approached us, the class acts in the first golf cart drive by my father-in-law giving him the stink eye while another fellow gives him the middle finger. A second golf cart drives by where a middle aged man with a white mustache (who looked very much like the Lorax) decides to drop a few f-bombs and some other obscenities in front of all of us.

That was red flag #3.

At this point, we figured this much is true:
1. We’re already here, and we wanted this to be a special family experience.
2. Let’s finish the game, and choose not to ever return so we can at least get our money’s worth.
3. Let’s make sure that everyone/anyone who even considers to attend the Bayberry Hills Golf Course to play golf has an opportunity to read about our experience.

So in a nutshell, it was despicable.

If poor customer service, rude patrons, and the complete opposite of a professionally run establishment is your thing, then you’ll love it.

Honestly, take your money somewhere else and spend it on anything…ANYTHING else, and it will be money well spent.

If you do decide to play golf at Bayberry Hills, then you might as well take bags of cash, and toss them out your car window while driving down the highway. Because that’s exactly how you’ll feel afterwards:

Money wasted.