Jason's Crazy ClubCorp Stories!

---

Mamee's Last Visit to The Hamlet

June 28, 2023

This was the last time I interacted with Mamee at *my* club, The Hamlet, where I served as GM. She claimed her visit was for the wine dinner—a point she repeated to my Food & Beverage Director, Fadi, at least a dozen times. Ironically, she didn’t even stay for it.  

Instead, she pulled my entire F&B leadership team—including me—into the wine room to present a labor chart. The problem? She couldn’t read or explain it herself. Her first question: *“Why did you use the same amount of labor on Tuesday as Wednesday when your volume was half one day compared to the other?”*  

My team answered reasonably, but I stepped in to clarify: “That labor is the minimum required to open for the day. Volume is irrelevant, and we’re already analyzing options to either boost revenue on the slower day, cut the menu to reduce labor, or possibly eliminate the day altogether.”  

Her response? Silence. She just kept harping on the need to cut labor. Sure, we understood. But what I *thought* was: *Why are you grinding my team down over this nonsense? We’re driving revenue harder than ever—nearly $300k above budget in F&B alone.*  

Then she turned her attention to Fadi. “Did you do the Twisted Tea promotion? Where are the table tents for it?” Fadi hesitated, fumbling for an answer. I stepped in with the truth: “We don’t have them because they won’t sell here.”  

I have members buying $60 shots of tequila and $20 cocktails like they’re going out of style. Why on earth would I put a $25 bucket of sugar water in front of them? We were compliant with the requirements—just not promoting something that doesn’t fit our clientele. *Leave me the hell alone.*  

Her reaction? She snapped at me—in *my* house—emasculating me in front of my team. Chef Matt tried to step in and diffuse the situation, but I cut him off. “Don’t waste your breath. This was my decision, not Fadi’s.”  

As my blood pressure rose, I pretended to take a phone call and excused myself. On my way out, Mamee quipped, “Good, I was about to kick him out so we can talk about him anyway.” Maybe it was a joke, but what came next was no laughing matter.  

She grilled *my team* for every detail about how I was running my club. The only substantial information she gathered was that Chef Matt needed a new reach-in cooler—which she promised to purchase using *my* budget—and that Fadi mentioned Marino’s return. Armed with this, she joined me for our traditional walkthrough.  

During the walkthrough, we stepped into the walk-in cooler, and she remarked, “This looks better than last time, but it still needs improvement. Also, your guys have issues with you.”  

I asked, “OK, like what?”  

Her reply: “I’m not going to tell you. You need to talk to them.”  

“OK, I will. Anything else? I got a wine dinner starting in 15 minutes and you tied my guys up for an hour they didn't have."

She then asked, “Are you letting that guy Marino back in?”  

I replied, “No. Why does everyone keep asking me this? I talked to Maurice, and we’re letting Shari back in, but not Marino.”  

She didn’t say another word.  

Now, as GM, I expected her—as a corporate support function—to address the clear discrepancy between what she heard from my team and what I told her. A competent, unbiased professional would have said, “Jason, your team told me something different. Let’s clarify.” We could’ve resolved it on the spot.  

Instead, she bundled that piece of information along with some fraudulent photos and sent them directly to Maurice. Why? Not for any legitimate business reason. This was personal.  

Here’s the thing: this wasn’t just about our personalities clashing—it was tied to the DEI narrative the company was pushing. Mamee’s appointment was part of that strategy, and rather than support the team or the club, she used her position to create division.  

Take the $5,000 my club lost for our New Year’s Eve party. Instead of supporting her company—the one that pays her salary—she sided with an external vendor, simply to spite me.  

Why? Because I wasn’t part of the DEI box she wanted to check. Despite my performance, my success in turning the club around, and my efforts to foster inclusivity for my team and members, I wasn’t the right “fit” for her agenda.  

This is just one of 20 similar stories from my time at The Hamlet. I told every single one to Maurice, along with warnings about the bad blood. He ignored all of it. Instead, he bought into her fabricated narrative hook, line, and sinker.  

I’ve never lied to Maurice. He knew the truth and the stakes. But the DEI narrative overshadowed everything, and as a result, real leadership, performance, and integrity were sacrificed..

Mamee at Norbeck: The Seafood Fest Incident

August-October 2018  

In August 2018, during ClubCorp's version of Seafood Fest, the chefs and F&B Directors had a chance to win up to $1,500 if their sales from the special menu were the highest in one of three groupings. I saw it as an opportunity to showcase what my team could do and told my chef, "Let's show them what we’re made of."  

We gave it everything we had, and the membership loved it. In the end, we came in second, earning $750. I promised my chef—who also happened to be my roommate at the time—that we’d split the bonus.  

But instead of congratulations from Mamee, I got more aggravation. I was even told she suspected I had padded the numbers. I hadn’t. We had simply put out a great product, which the members fully supported.  

According to the rules, the bonus was supposed to be paid within four weeks after the competition ended, which meant I should have received it by the end of September. By mid-October, when I resigned, I still hadn’t seen a dime.  

Finally, my last paper check arrived, and the bonus was included—about $350 after taxes. But before I could cash it, Payroll called and told me not to deposit the check because a new one would be overnighted to me. Fine.  

The new check arrived, and lo and behold, the bonus was gone. That was the *only* change.  

I protested briefly but eventually gave up. It was clear what had happened. Mamee had removed the $750 bonus. She didn’t just overlook it or forget it—she actively ensured I didn’t receive it.  

Think about the effort that took. She spent time verifying if the bonus had been issued. She made the call to Payroll to void the check. She arranged for a new check to be cut and had it sent overnight via FedEx. She likely spent more on the process of canceling and reissuing the check than the $750 she was determined to withhold.  

Why did she do this? You tell me. Was it out of spite? A personal grudge? Some misguided power play?  

What I do know is that her actions weren’t about the bonus itself—they were about control and making a statement. She went out of her way to punish me for no valid reason, undermining both my efforts and the hard work of my chef, who deserved his half of the bonus.  

This wasn’t about money. It was about her need to grind an axe. And that, sadly, was a hallmark of our interactions during my time at Norbeck.