This article was machine-translated from the Korean original. Read the Korean original
01Prologue: A Splendid Nice Shot Built on a Pile of Receipts
On the morning of the 25th of every month, payday, a credit card statement notification from a financial app rings loudly on the smartphone of Assistant Manager Lee, a fourth-year employee at a large corporation. The number displayed on the screen is 4.85 million won. The moment he faces this grim figure, which easily exceeds his after-tax monthly salary, Assistant Manager Lee’s mind goes completely blank—a blackout. Just six months ago, he was an ordinary office worker who diligently saved money in a savings account and discussed modest financial management. However, from the moment he picked up a golf club, lured by his department head’s remark that "you can't have a conversation in business these days if you don't know golf," his financial ruin was perfectly orchestrated.
Behind the staged shots taken at the indoor practice range on weekday evenings after work, and the selfies of the green fairway posted on Instagram with trendy hashtags like #GolfBeginner and #FirstHourUp, lies an unbearable 'swamp of installments.'
Young people resorting to credit card juggling to afford the unrealistic green fees at prestigious weekend courses, and making unreasonable purchases of luxury shafts and limited-edition wedges worth millions of won just to avoid feeling inferior among their playing partners. This is the sorrowful portrait of the "Golf Poor," a new type of financial refugee following in the footsteps of the so-called "Car Poor" and "House Poor."
Established golf media outlets, which must stimulate the influx of young golfers to sell paid equipment advertisements and membership packages, never mention the reality of this bankruptcy. This is because, to them, golf must always be packaged solely as a "relaxed and hip lifestyle of the younger generation."
However, Club14, which sharply dissects the pretentious consumerism and distorted distribution structures both on and off the field in South Korea, rejects this rule of silence. This article is a social satire column that starkly uncovers the vicious psychological mechanisms of "golf beginner poor"—those who squander their bank accounts and are driven to the brink of becoming credit delinquents within just six months of starting golf—and proposes a clever "break strategy" to enjoy golf while protecting the peace of your wallet.
02Stage 1: "It's not hitting because the club is crappy" — The first antlion trap known as gear obsession
The first gateway for beginner golfers to enter the path of financial bankruptcy is the terrible 'gear obsession' that strikes around the third month of their journey.
When you first register at a driving range, you hit some chip shots with house clubs (shared clubs) and vow, "I will compete solely on skill, without any greed for equipment." However, by the time you learn a full swing and start hitting your 7-iron, the gleaming personal club sets of those around you, along with the dazzling appearance of Titleist T-Series and Bridgestone Tour B clubs, begin to catch your eye.
The decisive blow here comes from the sophisticated marketing of golf YouTubers and fitting studios. The moment a novice golfer is exposed to videos claiming, "You must use a shaft and head that fit your body to fix your swing trajectory," or "The basic specifications of off-the-shelf brands cannot correct a beginner's slice," their brain structure is completely gaslighted. A cowardly yet sweet excuse is formed: the reason I can't play golf well is not due to a lack of practice, but because of the "lack of equipment" that cannot accommodate my feel.
Eventually, on a weekend morning, I rush to a large gear market in Gangnam and hand over my 12-month interest-free installment card. A driver for 1 million won, an iron set for 1.8 million won, a putter and wedges for 800,000 won—if you add a golf bag and a measuring device pouch to that, a hefty sum of over 4 million won is emptied from my wallet in an instant.
Despite his actual head speed being only around 80 miles per hour—less than half that of the pros—he habitually engages in the eccentric behavior of packing expensive Fujikura Ventus Black shafts, the kind only tour pros can handle, into Titleist TSR heads. It is not about purchasing technology, but rather the prelude to a tearful expenditure aimed at buying the shallow pride of "at least in terms of equipment, I am a single-digit handicap golfer" on the course.
03Stage 2: The Cruel Initiation Ritual of "Raising the Head" and Part 3: The Night Trap
Once the equipment is perfectly set up, the D-day for the 'first round'—finally heading out onto the field—is set. While golf novices are brimming with excitement at the prospect of stepping onto the green grass, Korea's distorted golf course fee structure brutally slaughters the wallets of these beginners.
The prices at membership stadiums in the Gyeonggi region on weekend mornings are beyond imagination.
When you add up the green fee of 280,000 won, the cart fee of 100,000 won per team (25,000 won per person), and the caddie fee of 150,000 won (37,000 won per person), plus the cost of gas and tolls for the journey, and the clubhouse breakfast and 60,000 won sundae snack at the halfway house that you have to buy while feeling self-conscious around your senior companions, at least 450,000 to 500,000 won in cash evaporates for just one day of golf. An office worker's entire week's worth of household expenses vanish onto the fairway in just five hours.
As an alternative, poor golfers with limited funds seek 'third-session night no-caddy rounds,' where green fees are relatively cheaper. However, this night golf is also another form of trap.
"If you think, 'Night games are in the low 100,000 won range, so it’s not a burden,' and push the booking app button three or four times a month, just as small amounts accumulate into a large sum, your credit card statement at the end of the month will show a cumulative charge of millions of won, no different from a day trip to a prestigious stadium."
When you add to this the cost of drinks shared with companions at nearby unmanned gardens or street stalls after a round of golf past midnight—sharing self-congratulatory remarks like, "My drive on the 14th hole was incredible today"—the office worker's wallet slowly dries up like a grass doll, racing toward the breaking point of becoming a credit delinquent.
04Step 3: Instagram as a Runway and the Psychology of 'Show-off Addiction'
The most decisive and fatal psychological trigger that prevents poor golfers from putting down their clubs, even as they are on the brink of bankruptcy, lies in their 'addiction to showing off' through social media.
In South Korea today, golf has transcended the status of a mere sport. It is consumed as the finest and most intuitive "identity card" to prove that I enjoy a certain level of financial security and a luxurious lifestyle in this fierce capitalist society.
When you post a photo on your Instagram feed dressed in multi-million dollar designer wear from a top-tier premium brand, striking a stylish pose next to a sun-drenched tee marker at a prestigious members-only stadium, hundreds of "likes" and comments like, "You're already going to a members-only club, Assistant Manager? I'm jealous," explode in response. The moment you become addicted to these shallow reactions in the virtual world, the fear of an empty bank account and outstanding credit card balances in reality is completely forgotten, as if you had been injected with an anesthetic.
Behind the psychology of those who insist on weekend rounds of golf by swiping credit cards beyond their means lies an intertwined extreme FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) syndrome—the fear that they might be left behind in this luxurious trend—and an impatience to always appear to others as having a successful life.
Young people who spend half their monthly salary at luxury select shops to coordinate golf wear mix-and-match outfits, and use the remaining money to frequent screen golf rooms and join bands, building a Tower of Babel of delusion that "I am a hip golfer." Although they exude the perfect dignity of the upper class on the outside, the sight of them making do with convenience store triangle kimbap and cup noodles during weekday lunch hours while worrying about credit card payment dates is the saddest and most raw comedy born of Korea's distorted culture of ostentation.
05Editor's Note: Turn off the installment principal and turn on the real swing.
Golf is a great sport. A golfer's true self-esteem and class are perfected in the process of lowering scores through honest sweat and textbook practice, and honestly confronting oneself amidst nature.
However, swiping credit cards excessively without considering my financial means, solely for the sake of the gaze of others and a single line of pretense to display on my Instagram feed, is no longer a sport but merely a sweet poison leading me to my own destruction. No matter how many luxury shafts worth millions of won I equip myself with or how much I stand on the turf of a 500,000-won membership, a swing where I tense my wrists due to anxiety over my wallet will inevitably result in a vicious slice and betray me.
To all the poor golf novices out there who sigh tonight while looking at their credit card statements and browsing booking apps for next weekend's round: I urge you to put the brakes on that flashy vanity and start playing truly honest golf that protects the peace of your wallet.
This is because the honest shots of a "100-plus" golfer, who gives up designer clothes and club memberships meant for show to others, and simply sweats it out with colleagues at a neighborhood screen room holding lightweight practice clubs, are a million times more valuable and dignified than the grotesque birdies staged atop a pile of installment receipts while held hostage by the gaze of others. I hope you make sure to remember before your next tee-off that your credit rating is far more precious than a single-digit score.
