No sooner did I title the previous installment "Winter in the Rearview Mirror" than we got hit with a late blast of snow and sub-zero temps. To be sure, Your Humble Narrator was not pleased at the prospect of digging through the white stuff and slipping yet again on icy pavements. Yet, the sudden storm lasted only half a day and all snow and ice were melted away within 48 hours. Now the Grand Canyon appears to be in springtime mode -- I think -- with high temps in the 60-70s range and clear, sunny skies. At any rate, the deer and elk seem convinced of nice weather; herds of the beasts are popping up everywhere I look.
Business has been picking up lately as well. In my capacity as a Banquet Steward I'm seeing many more tour groups arriving regularly for breakfast and dinner. The job basically entails setting up and breaking down eating areas for the guests. We also bus tables, serve coffee/tea, and refill water. I was recently cleared to run a cash register for the purpose of overseeing a cash bar run on the premises. Given that I've never run a register in my life and will be dealing with weary, booze-craving tourists, I'm curious to see what happens.
Being a BS (as such) isn't the most difficult job I've had. As far as day jobs go, it's fairly routine and sedate. There's a lot of detail work, such as setting tables, changing linens, restocking items, and so forth; simple enough but can be very time consuming. Preparations for the next days events are usually completed the night before. The work can be tedious but the gratuities help me maintain my interest. To be sure, however, there is a lot of manual labor involved with this gig.
We must carry large tables and chair up and down stairs. We must push and transport food and utility carts loaded with dishware and utensils to and from our serving area to the El Tovar Hotel where the items are unleaded and reloaded. In this higher elevation such exertion can take its toll on YHN. Indeed, I make no bones about the fact that I am no longer a young man. I figure such physical strain as this job entails would mean a year at most serving as a BS. After that, many of my favorite body parts may cease to function properly. Hopefully, that will give me the time necessary to reach my savings goal and push on.s
I admit that I have of late been thinking more often about leaving the Grand Canyon. The strange thing is that I have an odd sense of regret at the prospect of departing. You see, I actually do like it here ... well, sort of. The place offers some majestic scenery, to be sure. And I like the wide open spaces, the sharper air, and the sense of freedom such a huge national park offers. Still, the GC as a working/living environment offers some unique challenges. There are a number of, shall we say, unique personalities with which to contend.
The shorthand would be to say the employees comprise a lot of freaks and geeks. A fairer assessment might be that many of the employees here are lacking in the social graces. Such people seem to have trouble with holding casual conversations or managing to maintain their composure when dealing with higher-stress situations. Other people have a tendency to act unnecessarily rude or say inappropriate things (especially bad when dealing with the public. There's a lot of partying that goes on in the dorms, mostly drinking to excess, to the point where National Park Service rangers (the local police force or Barney Fifes as they're referred to here) are called to quell the disturbance.
I tend to turn a blind eye and/or deaf ear to a lot of the nonsense that goes on around here. After all, I've encountered many of these types of misfit personalities before, at Salvation Army. The difference was that the characters there weren't allowed access to booze. And there was much less tolerance for aberrant behavior than what Xanterra tends to exhibit. Still, to my employer's credit, they do have a zero tolerance policy on alcohol and drugs. If an employee tests positive during a random check (or upon any suspicion), that employee is summarily discharged on the spot.
If you recall the TV show Green Acres, and the town of Hooterville with all its oddball characters, you'll have some notion of the people you deal with here in the GC. And if you recall big city Oliver Douglas's (Eddie Albert) frustration and exasperation at dealing with the small town yokels, you might have some idea of how I feel when dealing with some of my Xanterra compatriots. All that's missing is Arnold the Pig (although we do have Bucky, a domesticated mule deer who roams outside our dorm). Now, if only I had a hot Hungarian babe, I'd be set!
At any rate, I do feel the desire for civilization puling at me ever more frequently. I do miss the voiceover work I left behind in Vegas. In a sense I've started a new career -- perhaps even a new life -- here in the GC. And you know something? It can be a good career, and a good life. But I don't know if it's necessarily my career or life. Were I a few decades younger, maybe so.
At this point, I find it rather late in life to make a true career switch into the food/restaurant industry. Sometimes it feels as if I've made a detour in my life, a temporary stopping off point. Maybe it's been necessary to gain some perspective; to take a breath, one might say. Interesting, because I seem to have garnered a rep here for being a good co-worker, easygoing, with a sense of humor. My performing background has allowed me to easily converse with guests and I've even thrown in a few celebrity impersonations (people tend to like my Sean Connery bit). I've met many people from all over the world, and made a number of friends in the process.
Yet I'm still chafing to get may to my real career(s). I've taken a small step, in managing to re-establish some of my writing contacts. The lousy Internet service here in the GC kind of puts a stopper on that, however. Still, it's been nice to resume some of my former work, if only on a small scale. Baby steps, I guess. But the time is coming for me to take a leap out of the Canyon. Funny, because I initially intended to stay here for six months, maximum. In all honesty, YHN finds that leaving the GC is a decision he is not so anxious to make.
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