Shangri'La: Year one

[Da6s]

I consider myself a PD lurker. Sure, I occasionally throw things up here and there, but rarely can I commit the time to follow shit as quickly as it flies around these parts. Hell, the majority of my lurking consists of reading threads that have already matured and are now experiencing their death rattle. Late to the party as per usual.

That's partly my problem. I should've been documenting the crazy shit from this season in full for the past 5 months. Late to the party again.

I'm going to retell some of the events, however minor or major, that show why I fucking love working in hospitality and why Fucking Tourists are simultaneously the bane of my existence and the reason for my bliss.

My writing style is weird. Capitalization and proper punctuation on the interwebz seems like a lost cause, and I neglect it as such. My rants are told as though I'm enthusiastically telling a random stranger at a bar, wherein I must one up them with my stories. I may throw in images, just because I can. Deal with it. Or don't.  

[Da6s]

The Cosmetics Meth Lab


Early December, have literally been working my night owl shift for less than 2 weeks. As part of this the after hours guest/emergency services line forwards directly to my personal cell phone (from here on called the emergency line). This means that no matter what the fuck I'm doing, if some Fucking Tourist has a cataclysmic world ending disaster of an uncomfy pillow, they call a number, which dials my cell phone directly and I get to fix their problems immediately like they're a fucking VIP. We don't have VIP's. We're the cheaper alternative to the massive resort owning beast. VIP's don't stay with the cheaper alternatives. Unless you count the one apparently damn awesome hockey player for the CO Avalanche that stays with us. He stays for free though, because he's buddy buddy with some dude that owns one of our units.

I guess I should explain things further before the story really begins. I work in property management. Property management is the bullshit end of the hospitality industry which really excels at destination vacation locales. People with too much money buy a second house/condo/studio at a destination, in this case Shangri'La ski resort. This property that they own sits vacant 355 days a year roughly while owners pay stupid Home Owners Association (HOA) and upkeep fees, unless they hire a company such as us. They sign a contract with us, and we take over management of their unit. They can stay in it anytime they want (so long as it's scheduled ahead of time) for free obviously. They can also allow their friends/family to stay in it for free. As for the empty times, that's where we really matter. We advertise and market various units, from studios all the way to massive chalet second homes that easily sleep upwards of 20 people, and rent them out individually like hotel rooms, all across the board. If you've ever stayed in a cabin/chalet at any destination and didn't receive weekly maid service, that's what we do. I gave this back story because I'll have rants about HOA's, the Beast, owners, and guests.

Back to the main topic. Literally second week working my night owl shift. I'm alone on my shift. I have a Manager On Duty (MOD) that I call when shit hits the fan, but only in the most extreme of circumstances should I call. Second week on my own, still getting the feel and coming into full comfort with the responsibility I now have in my first Real Job.

More back story. Occasionally we rent out units on leases for the Summer/shoulder season. Same as signing an apartment lease.

This really shitty unit in a building that was built in the 70's had been rented out on such a lease from June? - Earl December. They were supposed to be out on the 8th. It is now the 11th. I check these early 30's people in, give them keys to said shitty unit, directions, my whole spiel. I like my spiel. I can recite it while being insanely chippy and happy, or as the most cow eyed disaffected 20 something and the effect of my spiel is still the same: dumb looks. Guest leaves. I go back to doing whatever the fuck I was doing (probably making keys, because key making blows and is a huge nightly time sink). Then these old hags come in to check in. I start my spiel. Boom, emergency call. I answer. I put them on hold. People calling the emergency line HATE IT when you put them on hold. I enjoy it. Their rage gives me the warm fuzzies. I check old hags in, and they ask all kinds of questions. Old hags always ask questions. They even ask questions that were already answered in my spiel. Cause for the dumb looks I suppose. On the second question emergency line rings again, I answer it with the blah blah PLEASE HOLD. More questions. Old hags leave, I immediately pick up the emergency line to see why the fuck they're mindless and can't hold please. As the woman is giving me her initial information (all emergency calls must start with me getting information from the guest: name on reservation, unit number, and cell number. Guests fucking hate having to answer questions first when they call the emergency line. This too induces warm fuzzies.) this dude runs inside panting. Woman goes into a frantic tirade. I look at the dude, and realize he's with the group in the shitty unit. My immediate response reaction is "whoa fuck". I then start to listen in full to the womans tirade after telling the man I was on the phone with her. The following is the closest to paraphrasing I can do 3 months after the fact:

Woman:THERE'S SOMEONE LIVING IN THIS PLACE!!! THERE'S A FUCKING HAMSTER IN THIS ROOM. THIS ISN'T CLEANED, THERE'S TRASH EVERYWHERE!
Me: Wait, you're in B102 right? And you're saying there's someone living in it?! Are they there right now?
W: THERE'S NO ONE IN HERE!!! Someone is living here! There's a fucking hamster in this room. This room isn't cleaned. We can't stay here.
M: Ok, I'm processing so I can make a call and get you guys moved, you say there's trash and it looks like someone is living inside of it?
W: YES!!! AND THERES A FUCKING HAMSTER IN THIS ROOM!!!!!
M: Ok ma'am, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to call my GM (he happened to be the MOD that night), let him know, then I'm going to drive over there personally, take a look at it, and then we'll get you moved to a different unit.
W: Hurry. It's cold and we're tired and pissed off.

So I call my MOD, and explain the situation to him. He's of course asleep. Here's that convo to the best of my memory.
*6 rings*
T: ugh helloth is T.
M: It's me. sorry to wake you, first crisis, no clue what to do. people just checked in, just called emergency line claiming someone is living inside and there's a hamster. they also said there's trash everywhere. they're pissed.
T: huh? wait, repeat that?
M: people just checked in, called emergency line, claiming someon-
T: did you say there was a hamster?
M: uh, yeah, that's what the woman repeatedly said alongside cursing me.
T: what the fuck
M: my thoughts exactly, I'm heading over there now to see it for myself, but by the sound of it we will need to move them.
T: wait, lemme think. she seriously said there's a hamster in the unit?
M: yes.
T: and someone is living there? are they there now?
M: i asked, and they said no.
T: ok, head over there, see it for yourself, buy me 10 minutes, I'm going to get them moved to another unit.

So I head over, take one step inside the place, and it looks like a fucking meth lab. I'm not exaggerating in that regard. in HRT(hotel restaurant tourism) classes in college some textbooks I had had pictures of methlabs in hotel rooms (apparently thats common in shitty low end hotels), so that it could address how to spot them and the proper methods of evacuation/calling cops/making sure the building doesn't explode. Call my MOD, tell him how fucked it is, and he tells me he has an awesome place for them. I have them follow me back to the office (they were in their car with their luggage still), make their new keys, then personally escort them to the new place. Open door for them, test keys for them, bid them goodnight. Call my manager again.

M: alright, they're in the new place.
T: ok, listen, here's the deal. we were renting out that place to this local couple that own a cosmetic business. They were supposed to be out of that unit 3 days ago. I want you to go over there right now, make a new key first, kill the lock, and make sure they can not get back into that unit. Take the video camera with you, you'll need to do a full damage inspection tour of the place.
M: how the hell did this get passed housekeeping and being inspected?
T: I have no fucking clue, just get over there and lock them out.

So I head over to the place. Get inside. Cosmetics meth lab. We're talking trash and trashbags strewn about, gnats flying around everywhere, buckets of chemicals and tubing chilling out in the kitchen floor. The sliding door to the porch (unit is on ground level) has had the door handle and lock removed. I call manager again.

T: how bad is it?
M: this is fucking awful. gnats, trash, buckets of chemicals, it looks like a fucking meth lab.
T: Nice.
M: i can't lock the door to the porch. there's no lock and no handle.
T: what?
M: i can't lock the door, there's no handle or lock. they've been removed?
T: so the handle on the door isn't there?
M: no.
T: dude what the fuck. alright, I'm calling maintenance, and i'll tell them to secure that door somehow tonight.
M: i'm going to do the damage tour, but this place is fucking horrendous.
T: have fun. call me when it's done.

I start the damage tour. Here's the damage as follows:
Entry way door frame removed. Door handle loose. Door crooked.
Buckets of chemicals in floor of kitchen. all but one kitchen light burnt out. gnats flying around. sink load of dirty meth cooking equipment. Fridge number one in kitchen has something that's gone severely bad inside it. bugs inside fridge too.
First bedroom has a fucking guinea pig in a cage. Walls beat to shit. Beds still made with comforter from when they first started leasing the unit. connecting bathroom looks like someone puked on the mirror.
Living room fireplace screen looks like someone kicked the shit out of it. Dining table is missing chunks and is covered in bottles of chemicals. Walls have holes. Entertainment center pull out from wall, facing cosmetics meth lab in kitchen. carpet ruined with several stains, some of which looks like blood.
Porch covered in trash. Bicycle. porch sliding door broken.
Master bedroom bed also never unmade. Weird glass display cases blocking porch access from master bedroom.
Master bathroom looked like someone had been murdered inside. Toilet disassembled with pieces laying in the floor. No working lights. Blood stains in carpet. Broken mirrors.

GM got in touch with the previous tenant, who had convinced the migrant worker housekeeper that they were the owners, and were cleaning it themselves and would be out by the 11th. That housekeeper was fired the next day. GM tells the people they have until 9 am the next morning to get every item they own out, anything left at that time would be driven to the dump, and the county sheriff would be accompanying us into the unit at 9 AM to ensure no meth creation. Somehow they got all their shit out by 9.

After the fact we learned for the 6ish months they'd been leasing it to "live in for their local business" they were really renting a very cheap production facility for their cosmetics lab.

unit had to be completely stripped and painted, new carpet, new fridge, new furniture, new doors, new everything. I think we sued them for the final cost of repairs and upgrades, but I never found out the details of such.


That's the first chronicle.

-Or Kill Me

[Da6s]

The Drunken Asshole


December 18th, 2010. Week and a half after cosmetics meth lab. That entire event had me under the imrpession "well, that'll be the worst".

It fucking wasn't.

I'm at my preferred desk in the back (3 desks in the back shared by 5 various shift workers. I'm the only one who does nights, so My Desk is always mine, and has become my nest wherein I wait for shit to hit the fan.)

Speaking of, I'm done making keys. I'm switching back to my desk.

I really like my desk. It's right beside the office fridge which is always stockpiled with scavenged goods forsaken by tourists on their journey home. We like forsaken goods. Especially forsaken beer. Just tonight I found a Kona Brewing Co stash of beer. Can't wait to get home and try one. I'll go further into the oliver twist aspects of my job in another more or kill me worthy post at some point.

Besides being beside the fridge, my desk and monitors are hidden from the ever watchful eyes of the stock room security camera. Which doesn't really matter, but still. It's a topic that'll arise again, just like oliver twisting.

When I'm at my desk I've developed the ability to hear when someone opens the door to the outside (we don't have an entrance alert or anything like it). On the rare occasion that I don't make it to the door immediately there is The Bell. The Bell is a bastard. The Bell is small and silver and shaped like a tit. The Bell exists to tell me that I wasn't fast enough for the impatient fuck. The Bell exists so that obnoxious shits that the Fucking Tourists have spawned have something to make noise with, meanwhile the Fucking Tourists have accepted defeat from the obnoxious levels of their shits and refuse to discern them from this action while on Vacation. That's the beauty of Vacation. It makes it so people just don't give a fuck anymore, and it is their own excuse to live without their brain interfering.

I was at my desk the night December 18th, and I hear the door open. I get up to go. As soon as I round the corner Drunken Asshole rings The Bell. Ringing The Bell when I'm literally a split second from being at the desk is an omen that the two of us are not going to get along. Drunken Asshole is obliterated and doesn't get the gist. Or maybe he does and it starts the chain of events.

Drunken Asshole tells me very drunkenly that he is one of my guests, and needs to use my phone. I asked if he doesn't have roaming, to which he responds "Sno, I do I just broke my phone earlier". I ask how. "I got mad and threw it at a wall HA HA!". I ask him what number he needs. It takes him 50 seconds to recall the number. I dial it. Hand him the phone to which he responds, "thanks bro".

I should've known right then. "Thanks Bro" has to be some ancient incantation of douche baggery that should always serve as a warning, but it didn't.

Drunken Asshole uses the phone. He loudly and profanely tells his friends where they're staying. MO (our PMS' abbreviation). I know MO quite well. 4 days before this I found 3/4 a case of beer in MO. I like MO. We only manage 3 units in MO. This was his first mistake.

After 5 painful minutes of him drunkenly giving directions to his Bro's he thanks me, asks my name, shakes my hand, and rings The Bell. Twice. He leaves, and my immediate thought it "fuck that guy". I then realize he's driving. Christ. I shake my head and head back towards my desk. Then I hear it.

KRA-THUNK-SH.

Fuck kra-thunk-sh. Nothing good ever comes from that sound. I immediately head outside and see to my horror that Drunken Asshole just did a hit and run on my honda accord with his big fuck all dodge ram. Fitting name. The bar wenches from the bar next door tell me it just happened, and tell me they didn't get his plates blah blah. I don't hear them. All I hear is the rounds being chambered in my head. Oh. Fuck. No. I tell them not to worry, that this guy is going down, and I have all his info. I call my MOD (the ceo), tell him what just happened and that i'll probably need him to pull the files of the cameras in the lobby so we have an ID on this guy. He says shit. Tells me to take the company car over and track him down.

I call dispatch. Tell them of the hit and run, and that i'm heading to MO since I know that's where this guy is staying, and I need his info. They discourage me. I tell them not interested, and I'm going anyways in the company car. They tell me to protect myself and that a deputy would be on the site in 30 minutes or so.

I call the number i had just dialed of drunken assholes friend. I try to coax his name out of them. They decline. Fine. I look at our occupancy. Only one arrival today in MO. Got him.

I drive to MO. I confront 4 "Bro" types in the parking lot, asking if they were the ones who was just called. They avoid my questions. I tell them that's fine, I have a master key to the unit, I'll just step inside and see if he's in there since I know where he's staying. They look at one another like "oh shit". I head towards the lobby-hallway entrance for the set of rooms Drunken Asshole is in.

Boom, standing right in the lobby is Drunken Asshole. He's against the wall, head leaned back. This is the first time I really size Drunken asshole up. He's probably 6'. I am a scrawny 5'7" nerd. I am also in a state of absolute rage.

I confront Drunken Asshole. I tell him he hit my car, there are witnesses, we have him on video camera, and that I need his name, license, and insurance information. He drunkenly goes "what?" "huh?" "oh shit, i'm sorry bro". He avoids giving me info. Then his 4 Bro's from outside come in and form an almost semi circle around me. I pull out my cellphone. This is the exchange:

DA: dude are you sure it was me who hit your car?
BRO1: yeah, did you actually see him do it?
M: the workers at the bar next door did, and we have him on camera. my boss is currently pulling that file to give to the cops when they arrive to my office.
*Bros glance at one another, then back to me with intimidation factor in their eyes*
M: I just need your name, your license, and your insurance information so I can head back and get this shit taken care of.
BRO2: Nuh uh. you're just going to head back and send the cops over here.
M: No, I'm going to call the cops over here right now if you don't give me the info. I've already spoken with them, they know I'm here. I've also spoken to my boss, the CEO of the company, and he told me if you guys threatened me at all that I could call the deputy on the spot and have you evicted from the property tonight with no refund, as threatening staff is a very strict violation of your rental contract for this property. I'm trying to do the adult thing right now and get his info since he hit my car and we have proof.
DA: lets go outside.

So I go outside with Drunken Asshole. He gives me his name, his "license number" (was actually a digit short). Doesn't give me his insurance info but repeatedly tells me that it's really good and the cops will have it. At this point I'm tired of dealing with these douche bags, so I call my boss and give him Drunken Assholes name. Lo and Behold, the reservation for Drunken Asshole is actually in Drunken Assholes name. Oh hell yes.

Reservations have all the information you'd ever need to set the dogs directly on someones trail. Full name, Birthdays, Addresses, cell numbers, work numbers, and credit cards on file.

My boss hits Drunken Asshole's credit/debit card for a 1000 dollar security deposit on the spot, in light of the police involvement. I head back to the office to prepare for dealing with the cop/filling out the police report. I print off the entirety of Drunken Asshole's reservation information, and give it to the officer when he arrived. I then head outside with him as he's taking pictures of my car.

The damage to my car's final bill was over 3 grand to be fixed. Entire back left bumper/lights/fender needed to be replaced. Also, the trunk itself was bent and twisted up so that you could actually look inside the ass of my car from behind it.

The cop tells me he's going to go and talk to this guy, as he has to for the police report. He hands me the paper, wherein I have to detail all events. He doesn't come back for two hours. When he does, he tells me this.

"I went to their room, knocked on the door, and they claimed he wasn't there and had left without telling them where he was going. So we drove around resort for a while, and we found his truck with shards of your tail light still on the bumper ditched in the parking lot of a different hotel about 3/4 of a mile away. I radio'd my partner, and had him wait behind the car so that no one could move it. I then went back to their room, and told his buddies that we'd found his truck, and if he didn't show up in the next 5 minutes we were going to impound it. He showed up."

The cop gave him a "hit and run and failure to leave information" citation, which when Drunken Asshole was charged it hit his license for 14 points, resulting in him losing said license for at least 2 years.

Tuesday comes, and Drunken Asshole calls and talks to my CEO, and curses him out, because "you hit my card for 1000 and I have tons of over draft fees!". He threatened to sue my boss. My boss laughed at him on the phone and hung up on him.

The next few weeks was a bullshit show of dealing with insurance companies. His "insurance" claimed he hadn't been insured since february. My insurance wouldn't do anything until after a 20ish day period of waiting for him to contact them with information. Then they covered everything, with the final bill being over 3 grand.

I received a letter yesterday. It told me in addition to the 3 grand my insurance company is suiing him for and also in addition to the loss of his license for 2 years and having his credit potentially fucked if he doesn't pay up, the county is forcing him to pay me restitution that I didn't request of 50 bucks.

Fuck that guy.

Second Chronicle Fin.

-Or Kill Me

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

That was a pretty funny story. More please!

[Da6s]

That was a pretty funny story. More please!

Will definitely type up some more, maybe 1 tonight and the rest will come in the following days/weeks.

[Da6s]

Housekeeping Hell

The busiest week of the entire year for a ski resort starts on Christmas day. The happiest week of the entire fuck year on a ski resort is supposed to start on Christmas Eve. Everyone is expected to be full of smiles and happiness and opiates. Also, everyone is expected to realize we're completely and utterly fucked, and the only way to survive this onslaught of joy and cheer and consumerism is to bend and ride it out, because after New Years Eve we all get to stop drinking daily to make the happy stop.

I guess it's a cultural thing. My extended family would be absolutely horrified at the prospect of spending consumermas on vacation somewhere, let alone shelling out stupidly high premium peak season rates to spend said holiday in a hotel room/condo/cabin/townhome. But then again, my extended family is really REALLY down with jesus, and he's amazingly absent from this county.

Seriously, after 7? months of living here I know the location of 3 churches in the entire county. Back in TN I knew the location of 6 churches that shared the same block/circle. That's one of the reasons that despite the unending waves of bullshit and pettiness I encounter, I absofuckinglutely love this place and this job. Not to mention after 5 years of being a worthless expendable part time IT monkey for idiot fucking doctors this job is heavenly.

Fucking Tourists don't realize that when you work the consumermas holidays they really have no special meaning at all for you. They don't get why you aren't caroling by the ice skating rink on the frozen lake. They don't get why you aren't working by candle light only. They don't get that traffic laws still apply. Actually, that last one isn't exclusive to xmas, it's just a GAPER trait in general. Yes, you should all salivate and look forward to my GAPER rant. It will be art. Horrific, abusive, weeping in the corner art. 

Anyways. I started a custom on xmas. Any big fuck holiday/spiffy holiday in general, I go somewhere awesome and eat like a king before heading in to work like a knave. I would use the word foody, but frankly i'm not pretentious enough to describe myself as a foody in anyway other than jest. Part of this custom is I also get ridiculously drunk while eating my awesome food and laugh at the Fucking Tourists while mocking them on twitter, sometimes complete with pictures. My favorites are the idiots who walk into my preferred expensive (30 - 40 dollar entrees-ish) steak house wearing ski bibs and maternity sweat shirts. Or the fucking hats.

Every Fucking Tourist imaginable wears some stupid ass fucking xmas themed hat while meandering through the resort village. It's like it is the open expression of their festive attitudes. Fuck, they even socialize regarding one anothers stupid fucking hats, asking where each other found/bought theres and how they like them and blah blah. Fucking kill me.

Anyways, so I eat, get drunk, am being fucking merry at the expense of GAPERs, and I get The Call. The Call is something I've always loved. The Call gives me great job satisfaction. The Call occurs only when shit has absolutely hit the fan, and it is up to me to come and help put the sky back up. The Call happened when I was finishing up my fucking awesome bananas foster and my baileys kahlua and hot chocolate (preferred mountain dessert drink. haters gon hate). I was thoroughly drunk for The Call. This is how The Call went:

Backstory: our company contracts out all our housekeeping through another company, which is strictly housekeeping. we've had a partnership with them since our company first started.

P(CEO): M! Thank god you answered. Where are you currently?
M: Eating in the village, why, what's up?
P: well, finish your meal, but when do you think you'll be done?
M: I'm wrapping up now, something wrong?
P: we're fucked. CM(hsk company)'s head housekeeping supervisor walked the fuck out today, christmas day. They're slammed, and I need you in as soon as possible.
M: Give me 5 and I'm on my way.

So I immediately pay my check, down my dessert beverage, and head out. I had parked at work and walked to the village (5 minute-ish walk), so I start walking back. I call P again.

M: hey, just left restaurant, i'll be in the office in 5 minutes.
P: oh thank god. here's the deal: CM owner/manager/ceo is going to give you a crash course on how they do housekeeping inspections tonight. After that, they're going to give you a list. I know it's xmas, but we may need you to stay on longer tonight. You're basically going to be doing the job of this cunt that walked out on the first day of our busiest day of the year.
M: awesome. call J(CM ceo) and let him know i'll be ready in 20.

So I go and get the crash course, and then he hands me the list.

The list is fucking 22 rooms long. And to reference that, a single room takes about 30 - 45 minutes to fully inspect properly, and if corners are cut you always end up missing something.

I look at the clock. It is now 6 PM. If i start with half of these inspections now then I can do the other 2ish hours of my night (key making, etc) in the middle and finish out these before bed.

Oh, I forgot to mention that just before xmas we had a fucking blizzard hit that lasted for 6 god damned days. And then it got warm. And when it gets warm in the mountains it means fuck all ice is everywhere.

So I do the first 16 (got on a roll and a lot of them were close together), cutting some corners.

I then head back to the office to make keys and take care of other shit. Other shit takes longer than I expect. It's now after 4 AM and I still have 6 of the fucking inspections to go, and they're scattered all across the fucking resort. I start them, and of course the next to last unit I have is somewhere I have no fucking clue where it is (just over a month of working, still learning where various buildings housing our 300+ units are). I spend 20 minutes finding it, find it, only to discover it's a god damn brass key lock and have to drive the 10 minutes back to the office to retrieve said key.

That night was an unending series of having my ass kicked by the alpine environment on top of the timing clusterfuck. I fell four times, the last being literally as I emerged from the last inspection unit at 6:30 AM, stepped on the steps outside and ate shit all the way down to the pavement. That one fucking hurt too. I came back to the office, grabbed a bottle of our complimentary wine we give out to unhappy people, went home, opened it, and killed half of it while watching the sunrise.

The situation with our housekeeping is always some unmitigated crisis. I'll probably tell other stories about them, specifically one from last week of a very similar issue which resulted in me getting The Call again.


Chronicle Three Out.

-Or Kill Me

[Jenne]

These are great stories, Da6s!  Can't wait for more...

[Bebek Sincap Ratatosk]

Soulds like hell to experience, but very much teh FUNNAY to read!

[Elder Iptuous]

good stuff!

[Golden Applesauce]

Reading about the shit hitting other peoples' fans is always fun.

[Eater of Clowns]

These are awesome.  I really love the tone - it's entirely an account of how fucked you get, yet done with what seems like genuine amusement.  Definitely good stuff.

[Da6s]

Breaking Spring

I've occasionally posted my hate and woe in Open Bar the past 2 weeks. I thought that might help. I hoped it'd magically make the idiots, jackasses, and all around mindless fucks disappear into the nether. Out of sight out of mind is horse shit.

Spring. Break. Colorado and all of the touristy hot spots therein always advertise that "march is the snowiest month!". That is horse shit. I've been able to see pavement on my street for over a week. I hadn't seen that since early November.

I rent a bedroom in a fucking amazing kick ass house literally across the street from Shangri'La. I lay in my bed when I wake up and watch the gondola go up and down the mountain. I lay in my bed as I'm going to sleep and watch the groomers comb the slopes. It's awesome. I found this house on the craigslist lottery. I'm on a month to month lease, fully furnished, utilities included for cheaper than what I was paying in Knox (rent+utilities wise). Oh, and the house is priced at upwards of a million.

I'm not joking. Storms started in November, and despite having a paid neighborhood "plower" I hadn't seen my god damned road in almost 5 months. Just this weird snow road of hard pack that everyone drives on.

Anyways, march is far from the snowiest month, for Colorado anyways. Tahoe just got dumped on with 5 or so feet. I dole out false hope to the texans with that factoid. This makes them sad when it's 50 degrees and the snows melting. Warm fuzzies.

At night there are two notable types of guests arriving to check in: the irritable unhappy elitist travelers that can't be appeased (i.e. texan breakers), and the relieved to finally be out of the god forsaken shit hole i live in travelers. I really like and relate to the latter, but this rant isn't about them.

The former breed has discernible traits I've come to identify (there are other traits that i might cover later):

• 1) Traveling with obnoxious little shits, or teenagers (still considered obnoxious shits)
• 2)demon harpy spouse that's complaining about everything, especially cost.
• 3)long drive (texas), or large SUV rental car

When these fortunate travelers arrive almost every time the first line out of their mouth is "We thought there would be more snow". This is the first sign. When the first sign is proclaimed, the course of our conversation is set. I respond in the following fashion, just to spread the joy:

• "We had six inches four days ago. Mecca (resort in same county) had over a foot"
• "tahoe just had a storm front dump 5 feet on it. They were predicting it'd hit us in feet too, but it went north at the last minute"
• "it snowed 3 inches over night, but it all melted during the day. i heard the bowls were good when they first opened"

I consider the last one to be an especially heinous fabrication. The elitist douche in them screams "i don't care how fucking tired we are, we're going to be on first chair at 8:30 AM, and we're going to ski all day to get our monies worth." Of course then they make it out and realize that god no longer loves them and now they're exhausted on the mountain tiring themselves out even more.

Anyways, the entire point I'm making is that even though march blows snow and powder wise, it's still marketed all to hell to attract the spring breakers.

The fact that they're stupid enough to believe that travel channel propaganda should've been the first sign of what I should expect. But for some reason, it never really registered. I guess after working 2 summers for the mouse I thought i'd seen the absolute bottom line of brainlessness.

I really think texans are the cause for the term GAPER. GAPER comes from a couple different definitions. The most prevalent that I see is that GAPERs with texas tags on their cars drive fucking horribly for no real apparent reason, until you look into their car and watch in absolute horror as rather than watching the road and traffic they are instead staring at slopes on the mountain, mouth agape. I guess because they've never seen snow before in their life. When I first heard the definition I didn't believe it, because surely no one would be stupid enough. That was an error in judgment.

Beyond driving erratically while rubbernecking at the pretty scenery, GAPER's also don't understand speed limits when there is a minor amount of snow on the road. We're talking so minor that there are discernible tire tracks on the road for you to follow where no snow lies. I've repeatedly been stuck behind GAPER's going 25 in a 45 because there was snow somewhere on the road. It's fucking infuriating. They also have no clue how to drive the fucking massive SUV they're rented, nor do they know how to park it. When I first started this job at night when I'd be in the various parking garages I would immediately call resort guest services and report double parked SUV assholes. Then I befriended one of the chicks that works said call center, and she told me they don't do anything, because if you tow a guest it'd make them unhappy and then they don't want to come back. when i retorted with the logic of what about the unhappy guests that can't find a parking spot because of this asshole she just shrugged. I've since stopped calling and reporting, but there have been more than a few nights when I've made my finger filthy in exchange for scrawling "ME PARK GUD" on some GAPER's SUV.

My biggest gripe for all GAPER driving is they don't fucking understand cross walks. Even when on the side of the highway there's a big fucking yellow yield sign that has flashing yellow lights they don't understand yielding to pedestrians in major cross walks.  Moving out here from a city that annoys the piss out of me. Oh, and if they have to break despite seeing you enter the crosswalk from 200 yards away they shoot you the bird while cursing you. I smile like an insane person, and wave at them in queen of england fashion.

So every drunk tourist in this county tries to hitchhike back to their room, whereever the fuck it may be, after the bars close at 2 am. I make it a point to leave here around 1 30 or so to go do my rounds (about to leave and go do just that here shortly). It happens at least twice a week, but inevitably some Fucking Tourist will see me in the company pathfinder making a turn near where they're waiting the 45 minutes for the one bus that's running, and they'll start to wave their arms at me in SOS fashion. In return I wave back, while smiling line an insane fool (jack nicholson with an axe in the shining), and drive past them. Sometimes, I even pull onto a road near where they're waiting very slowly to give them false hope before accelerating again onward to my destination. This might make me an asshole. Oops.

Spring Break's full of idiots. Not just idiots, unhappy brainless idiots. I mentioned 2 types of late night arrivals earlier. I haven't seen the latter of the two in over 3 weeks. And I'm fucking over it. I'm leaving now to go meander through the resort at night, I might add on to this rant later tonight, because I really fucking loathe spring break and have a lot more I could cover. It's easily the worst two weeks of the season.

And God Dammit, it ends tomorrow.

Part four, out.

-Or Kill Me

[Jenne]

...they don't have taxis?   

[Da6s]

...they don't have taxis?   

majority of taxis in this county are in mecca at last call.

[Da6s]

I'm fucking IRATE right god damned now.

See? we had this guest, right? Cool chill young professional dude with his family and little bitty baby. Cute little bitty baby.

Well he fucking called the emergency line at 7:50 PM GOD DAMNED MOUNTAIN TIME and reported that his fridge was in a state of fuck off, and was only cooling at about 50 degrees. Not cool. So he calls me, and I take down the magical information that can grant him salvation from his fridge's douchebaggery, and I call MNT.

See, MNT exists for the sole purpose of fixing the mechanical shit when it goes awry. I exist for the purpose of fixing the all encompassing and worse smelling human crazy shit. In order to fulfill my purpose, MNT needs to fulfill theres.

So I call MNT at 7 55 GOD DAMNED MOUNTAIN TIME just to pass word on that in THE SYSTEM there's now instructions for a severe issue MNT needs to resolve. Quickly. MNT says ok.

at 9 25 GOD DAMNED MOUNTAIN TIME I get an ass chewing from the nice chill guest, because well fuck me, MNT is still not there an hour and a half later. I tell him i'll find out what the fuck is going on, and that this is unacceptable, and that i'm sorry, and blah blah fucking blah. Anyways. Call MNT. It's been nearly 2 god damned hours and he hasn't fucking even left to go investigate.

9 fucking forty eight. Guest calls me completely defeated and pissed the hell off (rightfully so). MNT STILL HAS NOT FUCKING SHOWED UP. TWO GOD DAMNED HOURS AFTER I FUCKING CALLED THE SHIT IN AND MNT STILL HASNT FUCKING SHOWED UP TO DO WHAT THE FUCK THEYRE SUPPOSED TO DO. I work out subsequent storage for guest in our fridge. I don't like doing this. But I do it. I also give guest 30 dollars to the sports bar and a bottle of wine, because shits fucked yo.

When I text MNT and inform him that the guest no longer wants his attention since it's so late, and I've effectively solved an issue in 3 minutes that should NOT have taken fucking two hours, he replies with 3 words.

And I fucking quote.

"Ok i'm sorry"


Or fucking kill me.