I love snowmobiling, I just hate guiding, and until I quit my job yesterday I was in the middle of my 5th year of snowmobile guiding. And, despite the guests and the contact I'm forced to have with other humans in this particular line of work, I probably could have made it through to the end if the work to compensation ratio hadn’t been so far out of whack this year.
Allow me to explain –
In years previous I lived within 40 minutes of the job site. Both places of employment were in or near Park City. I’d get there by eight a.m., warm up the snowmobiles and be guiding by nine. That, and I had a normal person for a boss. This year I got a job at Snowbird and my reasoning was that this place was closer and would be easier to get to and from work everyday. Not true. This was the routine. After teaching school all week I’d use my weekends to get up at six, drive 40 minutes to the bottom of Little Cottonwood Canyon, hitchhike to Snowbird, catch the 7:30 tram to the top of the mountain, ski down the back side of the mountain, change out of ski gear and into snowmobile gear, warm up and gas snowmobiles, hope the guests don’t cancel, take guests for rides on dangerous machines, repeat process in reverse, go home without a break in my week. On top of all that, my boss, who was a short, stalky, angry lesbian (imagine Grumpy, of the 7 dwarfs, with longer hair and a sex change. I kind of think she was angry all the time because she was a lesbian by chance and not by choice; a no-other-options kind of deal. She was always talking about how she was going to “chew your a$$” if you did this or that and “sh#@ runs downhill” so don’t do this or that cause the “sh%@’s going to hit the fan” and there’s going to be a “sh#@ storm” so “watch you’re a#@” or “I’ll chew it.” She was surprisingly fond of expressions involving a@#’s or sh#%, and for some reason she wanted to chew on both of them - a lot. But I digress.) On top of all that, my boss, the angry lesbian, decided that she would have less problems if she put two guides, instead of one, on every tour. At the end of the day, what that means is I was making half as much in tips. Well, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I called the angry lesbian and told her I was done. Surprisingly, after our conversation, I didn’t smell any sh@#, and my a#% was still intact.
Anybody have any great ideas for a weekend job?
12 comments:
Are you sure your angry lesbian boss doesn't work for Terminix in Missouri? Because, oddly, what you're describing is my quarterly visit from the Terminix Lady wherein she is angry at life; most especially any and all insects. And I am forced to listen to her tirade all on account of a few ants we had when we first bought the house. Which are dead now. Can I quit her? "I just don't know how to quit you..."
Sorry, bad gay cowboy joke. Of which I am neither.
Weekend jobs? Well, I know I've never met you, but you seem to have enough sass to dance on tables, and enough intolerance and impatience to work returns at Wal-mart. Two dazzling choices, you can take it from here.
Todd might be able to get you a job at Thunder Down Under but you better start doing some ab work now.
Why work when you can make KAT get a job?? You already do so much for your family, Ben. It's high time your lazy wife got her butt out of my living room and into the work-force.
Amen Melissa. Finally, somebody said it.
...cross melissa off my list of reliable friends. check.
I'll never look at Grumpy quite the same again!
You'll find another job! Think: I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.
Singing Waiter? Cirque de Soleil? American Idol judge? Personal assistant to Brittney Spears? The sky's the limit! Dream big. ;-)
Yikes.
Sounds like the angry lesbian is still stuck in the Freudian anal stage.
You could try working for a coffeehouse; those lesbians tend to be a bit more ah, liberal and slightly less psychotic.
Good luck.
jenji
I could suggest a few weekend jobs but I don't know what skills you have. There's always Home Depot, but maybe you aren't into tools and the like. Scratch that, I think pole dancing may be more up your alley.
In all honesty, I think you should be a waiter. You get to interact with people, tell them your crazy stories and then really kiss their A%$ to get a good tip.
I just read this again, and laughed myself sick. Then I made my husband read it and we laughed ourselves sick together. It was a bonding moment. Who knew that stories of angry lesbians could bring us closer?
I went and downloaded some of the Quinn Brothers' songs. I like 'em!
Does it feel like I'm stalking you? I should stop commenting.
Babe,
No, it doesn't feel like you're stalking me. And I love the comments, so leave more.
(You're not outside with a pair of binoculars right now, are you?)
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