I Was Trained For This

I joined the Marine Corps because a recruiter told me I would be fixing jets.

Jets.

Fast. Loud. Important.

What I actually became was a diesel engine mechanic. I worked on the tugs that pulled aircraft around the flight line. Not the jets. The things that moved the things that mattered.

This turned out to be my first lesson in adult life.

I thought I was signing up for one job.

I was actually signing up to be adaptable, calm under pressure, and accountable for outcomes I did not fully control.

That lesson kept repeating.

After the tugs came Okinawa. Two years. Beautiful island. Strategic location. Professionally speaking, a skills black hole. I stopped turning wrenches and became an “Air Freight Terminal Representative,” which is not a real job so much as a state of being.

Instead of fixing machines, I taxied aircraft carrying VIPs. Secretaries of Defense. Flag officers. Serious people making serious decisions. I stood ten feet from power with glow sticks in my hands, feeling the weight of responsibility without having a vote.

That feeling stayed with me.

When I got out, I did what a lot of Marines do. I kept moving.

I spent the next fifteen years in advertising. Big agencies. Big clients. Big rooms. I worked at agencies like McCann and Ogilvy with people like Idris Elba and Sofia Vergara. I helped launch brands, shape narratives, and sell ideas worth millions of dollars.

From the outside, it looked like a clean arc.

From the inside, it felt familiar.

Carry the bag. Read the room. Know when to speak. Know when not to. Keep things moving. Make the important people look good. Own the outcome even when you do not control every variable.

Eventually, the industry changed. I changed. The noise got louder. The work got farther away from the ground.

So I walked away and picked up a golf bag.

And immediately I thought, oh. This makes sense.

Caddying is the purest version of everything I had been trained to do.

You carry weight. You read terrain. You manage pressure. You give advice that may or may not be taken. You stay calm while someone else spirals. If things go right, they get the credit. If things go wrong, you stay with it anyway.

Golfers think adversity is a missed putt.

That is fine. Everyone has their battlefield.

What matters is presence.

Caddying stripped life back to signal. Wind. Distance. Slope. Feel. Trust.

No decks. No posturing. No buzzwords.

Just the walk.

CaddyChing exists because of that realization.

This is not about merch or media or monetization. Not really.

It is about honoring a way of moving through the world that values attention, humility, and craft. About showing up early, carrying the weight, and doing the small things well. About understanding that sometimes the most important role is not the one with the spotlight.

Now I’m not done with advertising by any means. I’d love to get involved with a Super Bowl campaign one day. Who in the ad game wouldn’t? I’m also keen on seeing where the next wave goes with all this AI.

What I do know is I’ve learned a lot about caddying and the art of client service…

I’ve been training for this game of life longer than I realized.

If you are reading this, you’ve probably been training, too.

See you on the loop.