There’s a conversation that inevitably happens while in the presence of other golfers whom I’ve never met…and it goes something like this:

Golfer #1: “I’m a 12 handicap!”
Golfer #2: “Really? I’m a 10!”
Golfer #3: “I’ve recently worked myself down to a 4!”
#1 & #2: “Wow! That’s awesome!”

Then they all turn and look at me. With my hands in my pockets and my head down, I haphazardly kick at a broken tee by my feet. Briefly, it crosses my mind to lie. But then I immediately realize my first shot would expose me for who I really am. Sheepishly, I utter the truth: “I’m an 18.”

Silence.

Then #3 breaks the ice by telling #1 to go ahead and tee off.

F#$%ing golf handicaps. I suddenly feel like the least endowed man in the locker room. That’s the way it is with the handicap system – it groups the good players and the hacks into separate buckets. This is even more true when you’re off the course. Think back to when you’ve met someone at a non golf-related event and realized you both like golf. I’d bet one of the first things that came up was your handicap.

A few years ago, I was at my wife’s work holiday party and she introduced me to her co-worker’s husband. Not knowing many other people there, we struck up a conversation that eventually led to us talking about golf. His first question after both of us acknowledged playing golf was, of course, “What’s your handicap?” Turns out this guy was a 7. Though we continued our conversation amicably, I just got the feeling he immediately placed me below him in the category of general life successfulness.

OK, perhaps that sounds a bit nuts. But we class people all the time for non golf-related stuff, don’t we? Consider this: You’re introduced to someone from the same town as you. One of the first thoughts would be to tell each other which neighborhood you live in, right? Well if that person lives in the nicest neighborhood in town, do you think to yourself: “Hmmm, must be rich” (or something along those lines)? Be honest!

Well, it’s the same for golf, except our measuring stick is the handicap system. Have you ever noticed foursomes are generally comprised of people with similar golfing abilities? For example, my foursome’s handicaps range from 18 to 26. Likewise, a group of low handicappers typically won’t play with hackers. I’ve actually heard a few decent golfers state they won’t play with anyone over a 10 handicap because it will “ruin their game.” WTF? You know, many people who keep a handicap typically play the same course all the time. If I played the same course all the time, I bet I could lower my handicap too. I mean, probably not down to scratch, but…but I digress.

Anyway, as golfers, perhaps we need to change the way we interact with each other (grant me some leeway here). What if we thought of it in these terms instead: Asking someone to reveal their handicap is like asking them to reveal their salary. To me, it elicits the same kind of subliminal “classing” in someone’s head.

Generally speaking, most hacks are pretty down-to-earth about their golfing wretchedness. I know I am. In fact, if people didn’t ask me about my handicap the second they realize I play golf, I’d tell them almost immediately that I stink at golf anyway. But asking for someone’s handicap – that just instantly puts your game on a scale – people know exactly where they stand in comparison to you and that leaves me feeling a little “exposed.” But if I just tell someone “I stink at golf” – that leaves it rather ambiguous. Then if we go play and I shoot an 89, they tell me: “Oh, you’re much better than I expected!” See? I like that approach way better than letting a statistic speak for me.

So seeing as the vast majority of golfers stink, it’s probably best to keep your handicap to yourself…

And then only reveal it when you need to (like at the club tournament table)…

Oh, and even in that case, for God’s sake, whisper it!