Author Topic: Shangri-La: The second year  (Read 2559 times)

Da6s

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Shangri-La: The second year
« on: September 17, 2011, 06:23:44 am »
Today marks 1 year since I stumbled across this county. I keep expecting that fact to sink in with me a bit, but the truth is it's not. There's been no huge "whoa". Hell, I'm not even in a reflective enough mood to properly open the second edition of the madness that accompanies working in HRT. But I feel I should. Maybe some bored stoner kid will read this at some point and think "you mean that asshole did this? why am i still stuck in hell?" The truth is, you aren't stuck anywhere. All the roots you've laid can be chopped up, you just have to be willing to sacrifice your legs in the process. It worked out well for the tin man, right?

I was a bored stoner kid in Knoxville, TN. I was living with 2 strippers, and dating one of them. I had a shit keyboard monkey job providing IT support to mostly evil doctors getting their MBA's. I had been in this shit job for 4 and a half years. It wasn't a career, nor was it even that great for my resume, but it was easy, and it gave me a comfortable enough standard of living to where I did what I wanted when I wanted. I should say that since I was 14 I wanted to work in hospitality management. When I was 15 I started snowboarding - casually. Senior year of highschool I organized a field trip for my Travel & Tourism class to a local resort: Sugar Mountain in NC. I got us the hook up. We had a full tour of the entire resort, including into the buildings that housed the snow making machinery, a 45 minute Q & A with the GM of the resort, and then super cheap lift passes & rentals. From that trip on I had the itch to work in the ski resort industry, even if only for a season.

Throughout my 5 years in Knoxville I went on an annual week long trip to Snowshoe, WV. It was the first time I'd ever encountered a secluded ski resort that was entirely self-sufficient relying solely on tourism money. I fell in love with the idea of a small tourism based town where my only sporting passion was what made everything function. I was arguably naive (still am), and the fact that the closest hospital to the resort was in a town 50 minutes away with clear roads. We found this out when an old friend, who was doing awesome on skis considering it was her first week, crossed up her skis on a green at night, tumbled and rolled, and slashed her face 2 inches from her eye on a large jagged piece of ice. Mountain ski patrol couldn't stitch her up, and so it was an hour drive for her and another friend to the closest ER, while the rest of us drank in the hot tub while it snowed. Memories like that seem trivial, but they all contributed to the constantly growing desire I had to live in a place like that.

The 09/10 winter in the south sucked for riding. Hell, the only good riding I had that year was one run down a black at snowshoe on a trip up there for my bday with aforementioned stripper gf, where the rest of the time I spent teaching & coaching. Two weeks later one of the surprisingly awesome docs that was an alum of the MBA I worked for housed me and a coworker in his 3 bedroom cabin at Timberline, WV. He was head of ski patrol, in addition to being one of the best chemo docs in WV. He gave us the royal treatment the entire time. The best part of that trip wasn't even the riding. It was the way my coworker and I were treated. Since the doc was head of ski patrol everyone knew him, and we were treated exactly like locals. The bar conversations I had at the base of the mountain with the people who were living the life I wanted gave me a perspective I'd never received. They assured me I could do it, I just needed to be prepared for poverty as a result.

In March of 2010, I asked said stripper gf to sign a lease with me when mine expired. We were practically living together at this point anyways. She declined repeatedly, and made it abundantly clear she didn't want to be at that level of commitment with me. Fine. I spent the next few months watching a lot of the friends I'd made moving away, or moving back home because their resumes were shit and no where would hire them solely on the degree. I also looked at the job I hated, and how genuinely unhappy I was to still be living in TN. I was 23 years old. Why was I still in this town? Why was I still in this state? Why was I still in this region?

I told her in June that I was moving in September. My lease ended June 30th. I had tapped a friend to live in a spare bedroom at his place for free for my last two months while I saved money, she insisted that I move in with her and her friend, who was also a stripper. I told her I would, but it would be for July & August while I worked and saved, and then left. She said ok, and seemed to understand I was going. Or at least pretended to. I should probably also mentioned when our courtship first started she asked me what my catch was, and I told her flat out that i wasn't in the south forever, and I was moving to work ski resorts. She had had ample warning and time to prepare.

In June my best friend tells me he's thinking about moving to CO to pursue a career & degree in journalism/literature, with a focus on film. I proceed to have a few serious conversations with him about it, and tell him when I was going.

I told my boss in July that I was going to work through our mid august hell week (residence period, when MBA students were on site and I worked 16 - 20 hour days), and then I would be putting in my two weeks. He looked at me, smiled, and told me he was starting to wonder when I was finally leaving. I left that job with some amazing references, and also had a MBA communications professor type up my resume for me.

I start doing some research and come up with several different locations to move to. High Rockies, CO (I was just calling it CO resorts at the time), Burlington, Vermont , Bend, Oregon became my top three. I decided Burlington was a college town, and I wanted out of the scene, so it was nixed. Bend seemed like too far, and so I settled on CO. In August I landed an interview for mid september  at Winter Park Resort. They are owned by Intrawest. The same company that owns Snowshoe. The same company that owns Whistler. The same company that filed for bankruptcy & required a bail out while hosting the Olympics. I was wary of this interview, which I should add was part of a job fair & is peak hiring time, but I was even more wary for the lack of security working for this company could get me. I pushed it out of my mind, and decided I would go to CO the week before the interview, get a feel for it, do the interview, and see how it went.

I spent most of August giving away or selling everything I had. I got up to around 2200 saved, and decided to do a farewell trip with the chick I'd been dating for 10 months to DC/ VA beach. I really wanted to see the ocean before I left it for cold mountains. She spent a lot of the trip asking me not to go, pleading with me not to, and fuming at me for doing so. Trip ended, I drove her back, and drove to my parents. It was now Sept 9th. I spent the next 3 days packing and saying goodbye to long time friends. My mother threw me a going away lunch for extended family. At this lunch my paternal grandmother looked me in the face and said "I don't know why you're doing this. You're going to get out there and you're going to fail and you're going to beg for your mommy and daddy to help get you home". Since then I've only spoken to my curmudgeon bitch grandmother for 35 seconds on xmas.

I packed only things I felt I would need, or want bad enough. Laptop, sleeping bag, comforter, Wii & 360 (no TV), DVD's that I hadn't sold loaded into a 120 page case, One carry on sized suitcase loaded small keepsakes/treasures/items I was emotionally attached to, two plastic tubs of care packages given to me by my parents & aunt, a large suitcase of clothes, a green army duffle bag from an army surplus loaded with rolled up clothes, a tent (just in case), few dress shirts/slacks for interviews, snowboard & board bag, all winter gear, and a big plastic bag full of cords and miscellaneous tech items I might need (keyboard, chargers, etc). My bank account at this point was around 1700. I felt positive that would be enough.

I say goodbye to my parents, which was surprisingly harder than I thought it would be. I left, and drove to Knox with my loaded car for my last two nights. I ate foods I knew I would miss. The morning of the 14th comes. I wake up at 9 AM, and ask the woman i'd been cohabiting with for months if she'd like to help me with the last three loads. She refused. It got to be 11, which was when I wanted to leave, and she starts crying & begging me to stay. I say my goodbye, and surprisingly it was a much harder goodbye than I was prepared for. I've been called emotionally cold & distant by more than one ex, but the last view of her that I had was in my rear view mirror as she dropped to the grass bawling with her head in her hands. I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry too, but I refused to turn back for even 10 minutes, because it would give her false hope. I called her 20 minutes into my drive, and she was still crying.

I drive two and a half hours to Murfreesboro to visit the little sister for lunch before I continued my Exodus. Was a nice visit. I then made my way up to St Louis & stayed with a friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Crashed on his couch early, woke up at 6, and started driving again.

Missouri was pretty, despite the rain. Kansas was fucking awful. The only nice part about Kansas was the giant fuck all wind farm that you can see for 45 minutes, because it's Kansas. I entered GMT, and it really hit me that I was doing it. I had started popping Niacin to get my piss clean for potential jobs, and about 10 minutes after entering GMT I had a hot flash. Fuck everything about that shit. My mother went through menopause hella early, and I would give her hell about her hot flashes, and now I feel like the biggest dick ever. Shit was awful. Drank 4 bottles of water that I bought at this scary little gas station where everyone was wearing cowboy hats, and drank them all. 25 minutes later I was fine. Fuck Kansas.

I get into CO, and head down to CO Springs to crash on the floor of the best friend I'd mentioned earlier. I wake up the next morning, and head to I-70 west, just west of Denver. The foothills of west Denver are where you first start to climb into the rockies. At this point I was truly giddy for the first time. I drove until I passed a sign for Winter Park, and decided I was going to find the first semi-decent looking place that had a hotel I could get a weekly rate at and post up, since I'd be driving back to the interview on Saturday. I go through the eisenhower tunnel, seeing the lifts and runs of Loveland ski area that go over the tunnel, and I got giddy again, as I was about to live in the dream.

8 miles after the tunnel I see an interstate sign advertising a super 8 and various restaurants. Bingo. I went to the super 8, since I knew I could get a decent rate, and it turns out I was in Dillon, CO. I went to the grocery store, a CityMarket, and that's when the culture shock started to settle in. I went back to my hotel room with my newly acquired sandwich stuffs & went on Craigslist to look for housing options in or near Winterpark, or in the area. I then discovered that Breckenridge was in the same county I was staying in. I opened a classified for housing offered in Breckenridge. 1 bedroom/bathroom in 3 bedroom townhome in Breck, Sept 15th - Oct 15th for $450. I emailed immediately. Was a dude and a chick, slightly older than me, same story as me, and they needed to fill a bedroom until their third roommate arrived. I agree to meet them at a lakeside tiki bar in town the next day. We meet, I follow them back to their place with some stuff already in my car, and tell them I'm sold on it. We work out that I'm moving in the next day, since it was already past check out time at my hotel. I actually unload a few items into the room at this point. I head back to town, and have dinner at a brewery.

I head back to the hotel and start thinking. From what I'd seen of the county, I was overjoyed with it. The next morning was my interview with Intrawest, but I didn't really want to move to Winter Park at this point (to date I still haven't even seen Winter Park). I didn't realize the decision I'd made until I was driving the next morning. I did not go to my interview. I drove straight to Breck and got moved in. It was Oktoberfest in Breck, and as soon as I'd unloaded my stuff I walked down to town.

I had a hangover at 5 PM. It was that day I discovered elevation drinking.

The choice not to go to that interview pretty much shaped my entire life here. All the pieces fell into place over the following two months. I found another, even more awesome place to live on Craigslist. I landed a job I love after 8 interviews and 2 long-drug out offers from other places (and 3 more offers after said job). 

I've experienced things this past year I'd never even tried to fathom. Eating dinner alone on Christmas before going into work. Eating dinner on my birthday alone. Being on the literal first chair lift of the year 2011. Having a job in my career field that I love. Lying in my bed watching the gondola go up and down the mountain. And snowboarding on demand.

I fucking love it here.

TL;DR
Move the fuck out of your shithole town and love your life.
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

Sexy St. Nigel

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #1 on: September 17, 2011, 02:26:46 pm »
I am going to read your post later, but right now I can only think about juggalos.
“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #2 on: September 17, 2011, 09:46:14 pm »
Great post Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #3 on: September 18, 2011, 12:14:09 am »
That was a really enjoyable coming-of-age post!

Coincidentally, a couple of days ago I listened to a recording of a hypnotherapy session I had when I was 23. It was unremarkable, except for talking a lot about missing a sense of direction. A month later, I would go on the road trip, serving as a local music rag's photographer to SxSW, that shaped my life in multiple ways, including bringing me through Arizona for the first time, and left me in the Bay area, where I was introduced to Discordia via the PigDog cabal.

Thanks for the memories!

“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
― Assata Shaku

Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #4 on: September 18, 2011, 03:11:45 am »
Thanks.


My job has turned me into pavlov's fucking dog. God dammit. I've mentioned in year one of the EMG line, and the bullshit that accompanies it.

There is one universal key writing software/hardware system, and it is designed by a company that hasn't updated ANY of its shit since the age of serial cables. I shit you not. We have this one device we use to "probe" locks. It is serial cable only. It violates and chirps excitedly as it pumps information out of the lock, or rewrites the programming of the lock to work for whatever key id the lock is assigned. We can only use this, and the key making machines themselves on two computers in this office of 12 machines. This archaic leading industry standard is spawned from SAFLOK. They are bastards.

The EMG line rings for several reasons. Most notably: lock outs. You see, working for a small company we have shitty cheap room keys with out logo on them that we order batches of about 3000. They are incredibly shitty, and they are incredibly cheap. I don't know the actual price, but I'm pretty sure our entire key batch costs us around 500ish.

Shitty. Cheap.

Shitty cheap keys stop working for no fucking reason. Shitty cheap keys don't write lock codes on them properly for no fucking reason. These are the senseless acts of bullshit that upsets peoples and makes them complain to me.
That isn't what happened just now.

Keys are programmed with an expiration date. They always expire at noon on the expiration date. When you make keys it VIOLATES THE LAW OF ALL to make said keys with the wrong expiration date. We have some new daytime workers in this office. They've been here for a few months. They're good for the most part, save a few issues. Like key making. For some fucking reason they're god damned incompetent when it comes to key making. They fuck up dates, they fuck up key id's. They fuck up everything in the key world. My world. I'm the resident nightwalker. I handle shit at 4 am so my bosses and others can sleep soundly, knowing i've got this shit on lock down.

When the EMG line rings I drop whatever the fuck I'm doing and respond to the crisis. I respond god damned quickly and diligently. I fucking pride myself on my response times. I take care of shit when the shit hits the fan.

I am trouble shooting a fireplace issue, where the battery in a light switch that controls said gas fireplace isn't working. I get the EMG Call. The time is 7:29 when I received the call. It's in my logs. It is a lockout on the other fucking side of the resort. I answer the phone while still on my stomach poking around underneath a fireplace. I tell the guests I will be there in 10 to 15 minutes. I hang up. It is 7:31. I tell the guests with the fireplace issue that I'll have to have maintenance fix the switch. I depart.

I park outside their place. It's in an old run down part of the resort that was new and stylin' in the early 80's. It's got nice mountain views, and a pleasant mountain vibe, but the place is fucking dated. I book it to the entrance for where the locked out guest is staying. I check my phone all the time when responding for timeliness. Going to be the best EMG terrier I can fucking be. I enter at 7 35. I am standing at the elevator and I get another EMG call. It is an older gentlemen. He says the following in an 80 year old man curmudgeon voice and I quote:

"We called 20 minutes ago about being locked out and they told us they were going to send somebody! We are in (room number!)"
"Sir, it was me you called, and I just spoke with you seven minutes ago, and told you I would be there in 10 - 15. I'm currently waiting for the elevator to come to your room and let you in, so I will be there in 30 seconds. Thank you."

I go upstairs. Two 80 year old guests are sitting ON A FUCKING BENCH outside their room. They didn't have to stand. They didn't have to sprawl in the floor. THEY HAD A FUCKING BENCH IN THE HALLWAY AND WERE SITTING COMFORTABLY WAITING FOR ME ON IT.

I proceed to let them in. It is at this point that the wife, 80 year old woman on oxygen says to me, and again I quote, "You tell us why this happened." M - "Could be lots of reasons ma'am, do you have your keys? I could test them for you and find out what the problem might be" 80 yo - "No, our son has them. This shouldn't have happened. This is damned annoying and unacceptable. You took longer than you said you were going to to get here."

At this point I get pissed. I fucking PRIDE myself on my god damned response time, and I told them 10 - 15 and got there in fucking 7.

"No ma'am, I told you it would be 10 - 15 minutes. I got here in 7 minutes according to the phone log where you just called me for the second time and claimed it had been 20 minutes. I can show you the phone log if you'd like"

"It took you longer than 7 minutes"

She then proceeds to slam the door in my fucking face. She never gives me the keys that weren't working. I never even see them. I make new ones, deliver them, along with a bottle of wine. Incompetent coworker #2 had set the expiration date a day early.

I'm a fucking punctual individual. Hardly ever late for anything, early for almost everything. And tonight it's been very much so reaffirmed that my when said timeliness is unappreciated, I become livid. I become even moreso when I'm cursed by an 80 year old and called a liar, despite offering PROOF.

I think I just decided what superpower I want. I want a refined prescience, where I can hone it on how my interaction with guests will go if I arrive early. If I had this power tonight they would've been sitting on their comfy fucking bench for 30 minutes.

In our system we have one power we can utilize for vengeance against a shitty unappreciative guest. It's the one way our company internally ensures good treatment of staff. It is red flagging. By red flagging they are not allowed to review us. Nor are they offered any perks for repeat business. Nor do we send them promos/discounts/comp nights.

That bitch got red flagged.

-Or Kill Me.
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #5 on: October 02, 2011, 11:25:37 pm »
I am going to read your post later, but right now I can only think about juggalos.

Dude, that's exactly what I was thinking!
My name is derived from Diogenes of Sinop, the Cynic/Furry/Counterfeiter/Philosopher of classical Antiquity, and from Ivo Shandor, who tried to summon Gozer the Gozerian to destroy the Earth

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Jenne

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #6 on: October 04, 2011, 02:25:47 pm »
I love your stories, Da6s...you know my dad owned some resort properties in Big Bear, and I cut my eyeteeth in the service industry working in them.  I've done everything from maid service to host at a bed and breakfast (complete with cooking the damned breakfast!).  Reading your encounters with guests brings it ALLLL back.  :)

Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #7 on: October 15, 2011, 02:18:26 am »
I love your stories, Da6s...you know my dad owned some resort properties in Big Bear, and I cut my eyeteeth in the service industry working in them.  I've done everything from maid service to host at a bed and breakfast (complete with cooking the damned breakfast!).  Reading your encounters with guests brings it ALLLL back.  :)

Would love to hear some of your awesome stories that I'm sure you acquired over the years.
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #8 on: October 22, 2011, 03:57:00 am »
My company is divided up into two major groups. We refer to these groups as "teams". For the interest of Or Kill Me, these team names will be referred to as red team and blue team. Think of these teams along the lines of the rebel alliance during the battle of the first death star. Blue team nearly botches the mission. Blue team makes good cannon fodder. Blue team is full of pathetic Y wings. Blue team has porkins.

I work for Red team. We save the galaxy.

Blueteam lives in a phone pharm. Blueteam, as a whole, doesn't understand how fucking tourists work. Or maybe they just don't give a fuck. Blueteam makes commission off sales. Blueteam has a horrible habit of not giving a shit about guests in house when they could be making sales for more money. Greedy bastards.

Blueteam is also horrible about not giving us information that is worth a damn when we need it.

I think I briefly touched on our kleaning krew company that we outsource to during the first shangri'la, most notably hsk cunt inspector master general and
how she walked out xmas day. Our kleaning krew has gotten worlds better since my company hired a HSK QA person. Our kleaning krew fucking LOATHES said
HSK QA person, because she double checks EVERYTHING kleaning krew cleans, and points out on a daily basis how much they suck and how horribly run their
company is.

Kleaning Krew is the worst on what we call a back to back. A back to back is when one guest is checking out, and another is arriving the same day. This
requires kleaning krew to do a good fucking job and fast in order to turn over these units. The only problem is kleaning krew is a horribly run company,
and has very loose standards when it comes to what's acceptable in an orderly fashion. As in kleaning krew doesn't understand the concept of dusting.
Kleaning krew gets confused easily with the concept of "sweeping and mopping hardwood/tile floors". I wish I could tell you why this eluded kleaning krew
, but if i knew I highly doubt kleaning krew would suck nearly as bad as they do.

The logical way to solve this dilemma would be to OUTSOURCE TO A DIFFERENT FUCKING COMPANY. Makes complete sense. There's tons of hsk companies round these parts
and some are wayyy more reputable than kleaning krew. This will never fucking happen. Our Lord Commander has a long standing relationship with the owners
of kleaning krew, to the point where he's been in a business partnership with them for almost a decade. And he's not the kind to burn a long standing bridge.

Tonight an owner calls after 5 to tell us he's coming up tonight. Kleaning Krew scatters to the winds when they get off work around 4 or so. This is important.
So owner calls to tell us he's coming up. A guest departed from his place this morning, causing a back to back. Psuedo porkins, who is reputed to have transferred
guests in house calling with issues to other members of blue team so she can make more calls for more sales for more monies because she's greedy was the only
person in the phone pharm on blue team.

In our PMS there's a bubble that tells us three things upon a glance. A unit is dirty. A unit is cleaned, but not inspected. A unit is cleaned, inspected, and ready for guest.
We just had a 9 hour company wide training day where the teams were combined in a meeting. During this training the master general harped that when
a unit is not ready for an arrival UNLESS it is marked as cleaned, inspected, and ready. We were instructed by master general to assume a unit is dirty otherwise.

This owners unit was marked as cleaned, but not inspected. On a back to back. Porkins gave the ok at 5:30 to the owner, and told him that his unit was cleaned AND inspected.

No. Fuck. No.

Enter me answering the EMG line to a panic'd kleaning krew supervisor because the unit isn't ready. Enter me getting barked at by said kleaning krew supervisor. Enter me having to call MOD whojustsohappens tonight to be the head of blueteam. Enter me getting barked at by said head of blueteam for pointing out the mistake. Enter me having to give the ok to kleaning krew supervisor to overcharge us for 2 hours of labor for an after hours call-in clean, which could've been completely avoided with a simple "sir, your unit is not cleaned yet".

I really fucking hate people sometimes.


-OR KILL ME
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #9 on: December 10, 2011, 09:53:19 am »
I'm trying to find the words to even begin with this bullshit. For starters, fuck Southwest airlines. The customer service cunt that I spoke with first pretty much turned me into a foul fucking service slave tonight. Luckily I'm only here for another hour and a half, and no one is going to show up to interact with me. This brings me to the fucking reason I'm pissed.

We have a guest who arrived tonight, and god damned southworst airlines, the walmart of the sky, lost his precious red duffel bag. This red duffel bag is key for his life. This red duffel bag was found 20 minutes before he checked in, and it was going to be delivered up here tonight!  He was happy. He informed them that our office is 24 hours (it fucking isn't), and that someone has to sign for the precious cargo that was almost lost.

That someone became me. Not that I had any choice in the matter. This was four fucking hours ago. FOUR. I had shit to do tonight that requires I lock up and go do said shit (mostly hsk inspections, because our housekeeping subcontractor is beyond fucking incompetent, on top of being the root cause of some "ethical" issues as of late). After two and a half hours of not completing the work I needed to do I get pissed, and decide to bite the bullet and reach out to Southwest Airlines customer support. Customer service cunt A was das super cunt. When I am king she will be among the first lashed to the stake. I will then ignite her with a flame from the most indignant of all my flatulence's. After that, she will be a feast for the fucking coyotes that wake me up in the middle of the night, whom will then die from the poison I coated her skin with.

Anyways.

Customer service cunt gives me a phone number for another southwest department. She doesn't offer to transfer me, because she's a cunt, but that's obvious at this point. I call the second phone number, and a much nicer more helpful woman looks up the info, and reports to me that a company called "Western Express" picked up the red duffel bag of majesty at 11:30. She also tells me this company has a 12 hour window with which to deliver this bag. She also gives me the case? number for this shipped bag. Lady number two was nice. I thank her, inform her how horrible my first experience of the night was, and set about tracking down this mysterious courier company.

At this point the fates are just fucking with me.

Western Express gives no google hits for denver. Colorado Western Express shows up! but their phone number, and only reference of contact, has been disconnected. This dead phone number is listed tons of places, and this business is even described as doing luggage delivery on the sites with the dead number listed! A HA! IVE FOUND IT! GLORY!!!!

I decide after the nice experience with customer service lady b I could probably get the number to call this company by asking the southwest people. I call them again. Nice lady doesn't answer. Tormenting harpy answers. Tormenting harpy takes 8 minutes to confirm all the info that nice lady b gave me. Tormenting harpy tells me there is no number they can give me. Tormenting harpy tells me they can only contact this company after the 12 hour delivery window has passed. Tormenting harpy acknowledges she has a number for this company, whom she only calls "Western Express". Tormenting harpy tells me she is unable to give me this contact number. I would like to say here that I unleashed the fury and gave her a rant she deserved, but I didn't. I accepted defeat. I hung up.

I decided for one last ditch hail mary. I 411'd Western Express for denver, CO. The robot bastard transferred me to a voicemail for TRANSwestern express. Three sassy females on a voicemail informing me that I could leave them each a message at the beep. I lost it at this point. I called 411 again, chewed out the unlucky drone that answered, demanded a refund out of her for the previous call, which she gave me, and then apologized and let her know that southwest airlines is the worst company in existence tonight and that it wasn't her fault.

Overreacting? possibly. It's fucking finals week. It's also 4 days until my debauched mini-vacation-pre-xmas-hell trip to chicago. In the span of four days I have to finish writing this fucking book which simplifies the insane shit I have to deal with onto a flow chart, along with written scenarios. I'm no where close to as finished as I would like to be at this point, but fuck me that doesn't matter.

Anyways. The entire point of this rant was that I've been sitting here for four hours waiting for this super! duper! hella! important red duffel bag to be delivered by a company that has no internet presence. That I have to sign for. Something has to be fucking with me. Has to be.

12/09/11. The night I fucking lost it.


-Or Kill Me.


EDIT: HE FUCKING SHOWED UP AT GOD DAMNED 3:40 AM AND COMPLAINED TO ME THAT HE DIDNT KNOW MY OFFICE WAS OPEN WIEHWIEHgwihgARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH  :argh!: :nuke:
« Last Edit: December 10, 2011, 10:59:27 am by Da6s »
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

Sexy St. Nigel

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #10 on: December 12, 2011, 02:07:16 am »
Jesus fuck

 :lulz:

I'm sorry you have to deal with this shit but your stories about it are hell of entertaining.
“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
― Assata Shaku

Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #11 on: December 26, 2011, 05:57:21 am »
Christmas is the worst fucking thing ever.

I plan to type up a rant when I actually have a minute to sit and type something.



I am currently trying to save christmas. Mean ol' DELTA shipped a guests bags to puerto rico. These bags had the entirety of their four year old's presents. Including Santa's. I have until midnight before it is too late to contact this guest tonight about the gifts. Delta is being worthless. The courier company's phone is going to voicemail and he hasn't called me back.

And that's just the past 45 minutes.

fuck it all to be continued
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

Da6s

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #12 on: December 31, 2011, 09:47:16 am »
Ok, I've been meaning to write a long rant detailing all the bullshit of this christmas, but fuck it, i haven't had time.

hell, the only reason this is getting posted is because it JUST happened, and is an awesome story.

At least I think its awesome. And that's all that matters.

So I get a call from the beast around midnight thirty, saying that two of our guests are in their lobby, and they are sending them over to us. Nothing out of the ordinary. Idiot tourists get lost all the damn time. Especially up here in the mountains where their precious GPS doesn't work worth a damn.

Anyways, so these guests come over. Two russians straight out of a car after driving all the way up here from Chicago O'Hare immediately after getting off the plane from Moscow. They did a trip the Da6s way and went non stop to their destination of choice. Out of the two of them, the cute, blonde female was the only one that spoke english, and her english was about 85%. Her male counterpart, who looked like Geraldo 20 years ago, does not know any English outside of numbers, yes, no, and very, very, basic stuff. Much better than it could have been. So these two come to my office to check in, and give me a name. I have no reservation in this name. They also have a room number written down. I check the room number, it is indeed a place we have, but I have no arrivals there today. I check the entire reservation list for this room, and one name kind of sticks out to me. Its russian, so I click it. Sure enough, it's a canceled reservation arriving tonight and leaving on the 5th, with guests from Moscow. I'm showing this reservation as canceled because we never received payment for them. I print the details of this reservation, and hand it to the girl, and explain this is the only one I'm showing for the room number they have written down, and that this is their reservation and that it was never paid for. She stares blankly at it for a minute, because slowly uttering something in Russian to the dude.

As soon as she says whatever she said, the dude starts visibly shaking. He had rage. Pure. Rage. The purest rage that comes from the depths of exhaustion when fury is the only force keeping your heart pumping.

The girl tells me its not her, I explain this is the only rez for the room number she has. At this point the dude starts speaking through his teeth in Russian. The girl in a panic looks into my eyes, as though I was the most oppressive of all Americans, and proceeds to tell me their story.

They had booked this place with another couple from moscow. Actually, scratch that, another couple from moscow was going to be booking this place with them. The total for the stay was 2 grand. They paid their share of it to their "friend". Lo and Behold, their friend canceled his trip, as well as the reservation, but didn't bother to give them the money they'd paid back, nor bothered to tell them they did not have a reservation scheduled.

They were utterly and completely fucked in a foreign country after having driven the hellacious distance from O'Hare to the high rockies.

I spent the next 45 minutes getting them set up just for tonight with a huge discount (normally 375, knocked down to 200), while explaining that in the morning they'll have to come back to our office to find out where they're being moved to for the rest of the week.

They thanked me, as people often do when i'm jesus, and headed to their place to enter a presumed coma.


I realize this story isn't super epic crazy, but I felt the need to share their plight in my rantspace.

- Da6s out.

...christmas finally ends in 3 days...
"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #13 on: December 31, 2011, 10:47:03 am »
...the Da6s hated Christmas, in fact, the whole tourist season. He needed only look outside to know the exact reason...

I am going to throat punch the next person who bitches about the snow, or lack thereof. No, I don't give a fuck that you would've gone to California or Alaska had you know the snow would've been this bad. No, I don't care that the trees aren't pretty and white just for your Christmas vacation. No, I don't feel sympathy that we have a storm in the forecast for the day you check out. In fact, I feel GLEE. You see, we haven't had any decent powder days at all this season, and the day you're leaving is the day all these fucking christmas tourists are leaving, and my mountain will be empty and devoid of most life once again. I'll be able to board all the way through the line and only unstrap just before waiting for the lift. And I will be happy.

Christmas blows. Everyone is bitchy. The hours are long. The demands are petty. Us service industry peoples are treated as sub-human, here to bring pleasure regardless of what it may or may not take. And if we fail to deliver pleasure, well fuck us for trying and we're terrible awful and this has been the worst vacation of your life and you'll never ever visit colorado again. Fucking good. Go back to the texan cesspool that spawned you, and keep only the patient, appreciative people here.

I've had 3 guests try and hold me personally accountable because their airline lost their fucking luggage. Nevermind that said luggage never even showed up in my fucking office while I was here. Still gets blamed on the night guy. I've literally had to respond to 3 emails from supreme ruler GM saying "no, this was never delivered." And none of these three were the misfortunate guest who had their 4 year olds xmas presents lost. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was that guy. Oh, DELTA never delivered said xmas present luggage. Worst christmas ever.

I got bitched out the other night because a guests flight was delayed. I really wish I were joking.

Housekeepers have been super duper hella incompetent. We've had to move 4 different reservations due to the places not being cleaned, despite being marked as such. Which fucking baffles me. It's not like we're going to find out. Christmas night at 1 am I had a father with his two younger sons try and check into a studio. Incompetent housekeepers had marked it as clean and inspected, though it was still trashed with beer cans and dirty dishes and the like. I then had a clusterfuck of a bastardized lock issue, and ended up giving this guy a HUGE upgrade (price difference for his stay of 2100). That was a shit show. Murphy's law on christmas night. I was surprisingly commended by the ceo for how I handled that. That was nice.

God damned chicago gave me a fucking sinus infection that started on 12/20/11. I went to the walk in clinic, which I haven't done for myself since I was 19, and got a Z Pac. Z pac's are awesome. It magically killed the terrible bad sinus yuckiness. I was still fucking sick for the first half of this christmas hell week. That was a fun fucking city though. Fun fucking city.

There's so many things to bitch about that are just irking me from remembering them. So many fucking retarded people. "My TV isn't working" 'Ok sir, would you mind pressing the input button for me?' "I already tried that, I'm not stupid, and I don't enjoy you talking to me like I am" 'I'm sorry if that offended you sir, it wasn't my intent. Would you like for someone to come over and fix your TV?' "yes, that's exactly what I want" 'ok sir I'll have someone right over' *drives to place* "It hasn't worked since we got here, I think we deserve compensation." 'Ok, well let me see if this fixes the problem *presses input button* There, that's fixed. Did you need anything else? No? Ok, just call us if you do.'.

I had a fat fuck old lady call and bitch because her remote in her bedroom wasn't working properly. Sent one of my evening minions that I have now over with a new remote to program for her. He reports cat on the bed, that came over and licked his hand. This is a very big no no, and a violation of the vacation rental agreement. CEO charges guest 200 on the spot, and I get to deliver an awesomely hateful letter that I wrote, and slide it under their door. The note read: Mr. R, We have received a report that you have a cat in your room. This is in strict violation of the ------ HOA no pet policy and a violation of your rental agreement with --------. A 250 fine has been assessed and you have 12 hours to remove the pet from the room. If you do not, we will be forced to terminate your stay with ------- early with no refund. We have attached a copy of your Vacation Rental Agreement to this note with the pet policy section highlighted. If you do have a pet in your room, please have it removed as early as possible tomorrow morning, December 27th 2011. If you have any questions regarding this, please call us.

That part was the highlight of my christmas week. Only because I so rarely get to give back the joy and happiness I receive during this season.

I did get to watch/listen to the entire battle of endor/second death star while troubleshooting a router the other night. That was cool. What wasn't cool was the 50 minute call to comcast that came after because of the new fucking xfinity blah blah bullshit. Comcast has been the bane in my fucking christmasy existence. First, they were claiming an account didn't exist, despite a comcast cable box being inside said place where the account didn't exist. Second, they were claiming I wasn't authorized to fix internet issues, though at this mention I dropped the "actually I'm acting as this guys agent and yes, I am legally authorized to resolve this problem and restore service to normal". The woman didn't like that. She didn't argue with me either. A third call was stupid because they clearly don't train their own employees on how to work their own fucking system "can I have the phone number on the account please?" "actually, I have the comcast location #. Should get you all you need". "Um, ok sir, but can I have the phone number on the account please?" "if you look it up through the location # you'll have the number for the account" "um, sir, do you mind if I put you on hold for just a minute?" *RAGE*. Fourth and possibly most mind numbing call resulted in comcast telling me they had just ran a system update, and for some reason the entire resort area wasn't showing up in their system now, but hey, if I call back in 40 minutes it should be there!. Fuck you Comcast.

There's a bar pub place just down the hill from my house. On decent powder days I can board to it. It makes me happy. I was leaving there the other day to hike home and get ready to go into work, and I see a tourist with obnoxious red colorado rental tags back up and slam into the rear bumper on a truck, and then speed away like nothing happened. It pisses me off that that shit is common. It pisses me off more that nothing is done about it.

I've had four noise complaints tonight alone. Damned Denver Kids are in town for NYE, and have been running amok in the hot tubs/rooms after hours. An understandably pissed off man was very hateful to me at 11 45 pm, despite my assurances that I was going to have the issue resolved. I love people.

If you can't tell by how all over the place this post is, I'm fucking exhausted. I've not gotten out of work on time a single day since I got back from Chicago. And it's always because bullshit. I did manage to please the right pagan deity though, and I have new years eve off.

I will be getting fucking shwasted in mecca, and paying an insane 50 dollars for a cab ride home, because fuck it.

Noticable mentions that probably deserve their own rant are the cluster fuck that has been our maintenance department, the passive agressive harpy counterpart I have in this office and all her emotional baggage that she refuses to leave at home, and the social interactions and naivety of the nubs who can claim this is their first seasons. I've enjoyed listening to them whine about how crazy their days have been, while shaking my head with thoughts of "you only think you fucking know crazy".


I'm wrapping this up now, because I just don't feel the burning hatred inside that I need to, and that frightens me. I'm writing it off as fatigue, and hoping to god these fucks haven't defeated me. Actually, I know they haven't. Not yet. And not during fucking christmas. Ever.


Or Kill Me. But resurrect me in 3 days when all the tourists leave. I'll even be your messiah. Promise.

-Da6s


"If the only thing keeping a person decent is the expectation of divine reward then, brother, that person is a piece of shit. And I’d like to get as many of them out in the open as possible. You gotta get together and tell yourself stories that violate every law of the universe just to get through the goddamn day? What’s that say about your reality?"

Sexy St. Nigel

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Re: Shangri-La: The second year
« Reply #14 on: December 31, 2011, 07:26:41 pm »
I haven't read this yet, but I seriously must tell you that I save the shit you write for later. Because it cheers me up THAT much.
“I’m guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk,” Charles Wick said. “It was very complicated.”

“People get used to anything. The less you think about your oppression, the more your tolerance for it grows. After a while, people just think oppression is the normal state of things. But to become free, you have to be acutely aware of being a slave.”
― Assata Shaku