This paper is surging with the hormones of a teenager.  Additionally, since it was a Freshman English Essay, it has long paragraphs.

     Every Saturday and Sunday about five old winos, around thirty other teenage boys, and I would wait in a room.  The room was known as the Caddy Shack, and we were Caddies, of course.  We waited to hear our names followed by "front and center" over an intercom.  The Caddy Master was assigning us to golfers, and he needed us in front of the Pro-Shop. I always hoped my appointments would be with women, because there were distinct advantages to caddying for women as opposed to men golfers.
     One reason I always hoped my appointments would be with women was because they had better dispositions.  Men played golf like the fate of the world depended on their every shot.  As their balls flew through the air heading for a patch of trees, a lake, or a sand trap, they shouted a locker-room-full of obscenities.  Sometimes, they even went into full-blown tantrums.  Like one time, after this "nut" finished his flare for cursing, he ran over to a ball-wash and whacked it with his golf club until his club was bent.  Then he threw his club into the woods and ran toward me.  He reached me and grabbed more clubs out of his bag, and he started bending them over his knee and throwing them into the woods.  Conversely, the women exhibited no signs of this testosterone madness.  However, they did demonstrate signs of estrogen surges. This was when they talked to their balls in-flight.  They sounded like they were trying to influence lovers in their beds.  For example, as one lady's shot whizzed off, she wailed, "Up, up, up, get-it-up, go-go-go, no, not over there, yes-yes, there--there, further, further, further!"  Also I've seen women show an enormous amount of patience.  One time, three women were actually trying to putt, as this new caddy danced around on the green's edge, waved the flagpole in the wind, and acted like he was in a marching band at half time.  Men more accustomed to barking complaints and orders would have thrown this crazy caddy over a hill.
     The physical advantages of having a woman golfer were readily observable. Women's golf bags were smaller and easier to carry.  Men liked having big ones, with lead-heavy bottoms, that were able to stand erect even in the deepest rough.  Their bags were symbols of phallic power.  Women's were dainty with very little or no weighty bottoms.  Although some old ladies used caddies, most ladies gracefully carried their golf bags.  However, every man over twenty seemed to need an extension of his manliness; he wanted his symbol of virility toted by--the Caddy.  Another consideration that made bags burdensome was the number of golf balls in them. When the big boys teed off, they had around fifty balls with them.  This compulsion for lots of balls in their bags wasn't among the fairer sex, who only carried around nine with them. Because men's tee shots were farther and higher than women's, they were harder to follow.  Hence, it was more difficult to do a good job.  With men, I was like a decrepit old bird dog only following the golfers around, but with women, I was like the Pointer, sporting dog, always directing them to where their shots had fallen.  On rare occasions, young ladies used caddies.  Even though they didn't wear their customary short tennis dresses showing-off those smoothly tanned thighs, I still enjoyed watching them more than the men or old ladies.  However, the men tried displaying their best side.  They did things like bending over, farting loudly, and singing, "I feel good--dut-ta-dut-ta-ta-dut-dutta-dutta-dut-like I knew I would!"  On the other hand, watching the old ladies bend over was downright dangerous; it was rumored to cause blindness and drinking among winos.
   Even though the Caddy Master decided whom I caddied for, this didn't stop me from hoping that I'd get the golfers with the smaller bags and better dispositions, the women.  And I especially wanted those young good-looking ones.  However, ninety-nine percent of the time, I toted the men's heavy bags, so I learnt to tolerate their attitudes and appreciate their locker-room humor.