This article was machine-translated from the Korean original. Read the Korean original
It is the time that inevitably arrives after the front nine holes are finished. An announcement plays over the caddie's radio: "The group ahead is backed up for about 30 minutes, so please wait at the clubhouse." A subtle sense of anticipation fills the faces of the golfers, their stomachs empty from rushing early since dawn. It is a time to console for missed shots from the front nine with a glass of cold makgeolli and a plate of warm sundae or tteokbokki, and to strategize for the back nine—this is the 'clubhouse break,' a unique and romantic culture found only in Korean golf.
However, the moment you open the clubhouse door and step inside to face the menu, that romance instantly turns into an unpleasant reality.
This is because the numbers on the menu are completely illogical. A plate of tteokbokki mixed with a few pieces of fried food costs 65,000 won, a bottle of makgeolli that costs 2,000 won at a regular supermarket costs 15,000 won, and even a cup of hot cappuccino approaches 20,000 won. Even a 5-star hotel lounge in Gangnam, Seoul, charges 18,000 won for a cup of Americano, yet a golf course rest room in a mountain valley on the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province is taking exorbitant profits beyond that.
The most absurd thing is that, despite facing these ridiculous prices, the majority of golfers open their wallets without a word of complaint. They try hard to act cool and hand over their cards, saying things like, "That's just how golf course prices are," or "It feels a bit petty to haggle over the price in front of my playing partners." This is a cunning and audacious business strategy by major golf course corporations that hold Korea's chronic "face-saving culture" and "pretentiousness" hostage.
Established golf media outlets that make a living through advertising sponsorships keep their mouths shut even when witnessing this wicked distribution structure. This is because major golf course corporations are their biggest advertisers. However, Club14, which uncovers the true face of golf solely from the reader's perspective, does not sit idly by. This article today points out the excessive profiteering at Korean golf course clubhouses and is a record of the 'timid but sure method of rebellion' that the editor secretly carries hidden in his golf bag to deal with it.
01The scene of deformed prices denying the market economy
Prices at golf course clubhouses in South Korea are a deformed monster that has emerged from the blind spots of antitrust regulations and the Fair Trade Act. While prices in a general market are regulated through competition, consumers are completely deprived of their right to choose within the closed environment of a golf course. Because there are absolutely no other restaurants or convenience stores nearby, hungry and thirsty golfers are trapped in a 'monopolistic structure' where they have no choice but to accept the prices set by the golf course.
When you look closely at the specific menu items, it elicits a wry smile beyond anger.
"Tofu Kimchi and Boiled Pork," a staple at clubhouses, costs around 70,000 to 80,000 won at most prestigious stadiums. When you receive your plate, all you get is five or six pieces of boiled pork, a block of handmade tofu, and some stir-fried kimchi. That is enough money to make a profit even if you ordered an extra-large size at a local market jokbal (pig's trotters) stall. As for the popular summer menu item, watermelon punch, they don't even serve a whole watermelon; instead, they mix a few diced slices of watermelon with soda and milk and charge 50,000 won.
Coffee is even more serious. They package it as a reasonable price by emphasizing that refills are available in the first or second half for an initial payment of 15,000 to 20,000 won, but even taking refills into account, it is price gouging with a profit margin of thousands of percent relative to the cost. Charging such a price for a beverage containing only a few grams of coffee beans, hot water, or a little milk foam is no different from deceiving consumers.
Why does this continue? The golf course management's excuse is always the same. It is the clichéd repertoire that "since they are located in the suburbs, transportation costs for ingredients are high, and they hire professional chefs to maintain quality." However, recently, most golf courses have been converting their clubhouses into unmanned vending machines or outsourcing operations to large corporate food service companies to cut labor costs. In other words, a contradiction is emerging where the quality of service has actually declined, while prices continue to skyrocket year after year.
02Psychological warfare holding golfers' 'face' hostage
The reason golf courses can so boldly reap excessive profits lies in the unique "face culture" of Korean golfers.
In Korea, golf is more than just a sport; it is a social gathering where people show off their social status and economic power. In particular, complaining about the high prices on the clubhouse menu during a business round, with senior colleagues, or with companions you have an awkward relationship with is considered a form of 'dignified behavior.'
Golf courses have a keen grasp of this psychology. They continue their audacious business practices, convinced that "surely, no one would act petty in front of their playing partners just because they are stingy with money." While it stings the stomach of the person paying, a distorted atmosphere has become entrenched where swiping a card with a pretentious air is seen as a sign of boldness.
In fact, complaints are frequently posted on a golf community saying, "I suggested skipping the clubhouse because prices were too high, but my playing partners treated me like a penny-pincher." Since even skipping a meal just to have a light drink costs at least tens of thousands of won, it is no wonder that clubhouses are known among golfers as "robbery strongholds where you legally get your wallet emptied."
03Editor's Timid Rebellion — 'Whisky Vials' in the Golf Bag
The editor, unwilling to be a fool for constantly conforming to this absurd cost structure, began to research a timid yet sure way of rebelling of his own one. A method to enjoy his own high-end flavor while avoiding checks on prohibited items at the golf course and without adding to the clubhouse's price gouging. It is the 'Whisky Vial' pocket strategy.
Most golf course terms and conditions explicitly state a clause prohibiting outside food. It is common to be stopped when unloading caddie bags at the clubhouse entrance or entering the locker room, as well as when carrying large coolers or delivery food openly.
However, the whisky vials chosen by the editor are different. Whiskey vials typically refer to small, clear glass or plastic experimental bottles ranging in size from 30ml to 50ml. They are tools used by whisky enthusiasts to portion out expensive liquor for sharing. The night before a round of golf, the editor divides the single malt whisky (usually intense varieties like Lagavulin 16 or Balvenie 12) that has been carefully stored in the display cabinet at home into four of these small vials. Then, they slip neatly into the inside pocket of a pouch bag or the pocket of golf pants. Because of their small size, they are completely invisible from the outside.
The highlight of the operation unfolds in the shaded rest area during the waiting time after the first half.
The editor confidently walks to the shade bar and orders the cheapest sparkling water or a cup of room-temperature ice instead of other expensive snacks. Or, they politely ask to have their tumbler filled only with ice. (While there are moves at some stadiums to charge for even ice, ice for beverages is still considered a service.)
Settling into a secluded table in the clubhouse, the editor stealthily pulls out a whiskey vial from his pocket as his companions order a plate of sundae costing 60,000 won. The moment he pours the clear single malt whiskey into a glass filled with ice, the deep oak and peat aromas that fill the clubhouse offer a sophistication that cannot even be compared to the cheap 15,000-won diluted makgeolli sold at golf courses.
Editor, what is that? Are you drinking something good all by yourself?companion
The moment the companions' eyes are focused on her, the editor distributes the remaining vials she had prepared in advance, one by one.
The alcohol at the golf course is tasteless and expensive, so I brought my favorite single malt whiskey in shots. Try mixing it with ice like a highball.Editor
This is the moment when your positioning shifts from being a stingy golfer who smuggles in outside food to save money to being a "hip and well-prepared golfer who knows how to enjoy their own distinct tastes even on the course." The pleasure of enjoying a fine spirit, lauded by whisky enthusiasts worldwide while gazing at the green grass—for the price of a 20,000-won lukewarm Americano or cappuccino—is something that those who haven't experienced it cannot understand. This is precisely the editor's most sophisticated way of resisting the distorted system of profiteering at golf courses.
04Epilogue — The Market Changes Only When Consumers Change
The golf population in South Korea has surpassed 5 million, and young golfers, who make up a significant portion of this population, no longer blindly follow the older generation's culture of "saving face." They desire rational and valuable consumption. While they are willing to open their wallets willingly if the service and quality match the price, they feel a strong aversion to opaque and coercive monopolistic profiteering, such as that seen in current clubhouses.
The fastest way to make major golf course corporations come to their senses is for consumers to 'boycott' their price gouging products. If it's expensive, just don't eat it. Only when more golfers prepare cold drinks in their tumblers in advance, or carry their own small substitutes like the editor to leave tables at clubhouse shops empty, will golf courses finally lower their barriers and start displaying normal price tags.
If you are preparing for your next round, I recommend that you look for a bottle of whiskey lying dormant at home. Not only will a small vial save your wallet, but it will also make you shine as a true connoisseur of genuine taste amidst the pretentious Korean golf culture.
This concludes the first exposé essay of the [OFF THE FIELD] section. In the next issue, we will return with "[Golf Room Essay] How to Show Off with a Membership Gifted by Your Ancestors — An Analysis of the Unsightly 'Old-timer Singles' Manners of Shouting at the Group in Front to Move Aside," which covers the tearful battles of pride and unsightly manners among senior golfers taking place in locker rooms and saunas. We wish you, our readers, a passionate field life.
