And That’s When I Felt Like Quitting

 

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I’m not gonna sugar coat it, last week was shite. Returners warned me, managers warned me, just about EVERYONE warned me….about the December struggle, and the January blues, and I laughed it off, I thought it was a myth, but jesus fucking holy Christ, they are no joke. It was a non-stop week of fuck ups and complaints with a brief, delirious interval for New Year which saw me accidentally locking myself in the bathroom, wrapped in my duvet with absolutely nothing on underneath, vomiting my liver up. It was a fantastic evening. I was even described as a ‘beautiful, catastrophic greek goddess” by one of my flatmates. What an image.

But seriously, the blues hit you hard. I was stressed to my eyeballs, one guest in hospital, 6 getting their skis stolen, all of them having a whinge about something or other, cancelling restaurant reservations and moving lessons around left right and centre, not to mention my lesson providers managing to fuck up themselves not once, not twice but THREE times in a week. My mum and sister were also out here during this shit show of a week and I saw them a handful of times where I was mostly too tired/preoccupied to string a sentence together and the conversation was between them two as I spent 90% of the time frowning at my phone with the arrival of the latest (bad) news. However, we did manage to spend their final evening together sat in the medical centre – earlier in the day I decided to completely nail myself on a red run and then had to half snowboard/half walk down the iciest, bumpiest black. (despite the shit week this wasn’t actually a suicide attempt.)

As a rep, you are expected to be capable of doing 30 different jobs, answering questions from both other staff members and every guest who happens to see you in uniform, oh, and you are also expected to be in three places at once. A shining example being Head Office deciding to spring the news on us late last night that they wanted clips for social media filming ASAP today…..Mate, it’s a Wednesday – do you know what I have had to do today? Try breakfasts for 3 chalets, welcome packs for 30 people, hot tub checks at 3 chalets (on the other side of the resort) and then put frozen croissants and pain au chocolats out ready for tomorrow at another 4 different chalets. And you want us to squeeze in some shots of us skipping about in the snow acting like everything is fine and dandy? In reality I have spent my morning enthusiastically snatching up a dishcloth that had been used to wipe up baby sick and on my knees scrubbing the depths of an oven shit scared that I was going to set the fire alarm off at 7.30am because something was stuck to the bottom and causing smoke. But oh no, SURE I’ve got a bloody spare hour to film myself joyfully making a snowman. (Take your social media and shove it.)

But, not all weeks are bad weeks, and not all days are bad days. Tomorrow, my day off, will be spent with a beautiful lie in and some snowboarding in fresh snow, so I think for now I can put the violin away and get a grip, we’re all in the same boat out here and have to take the rough with the smooth, but I will never underestimate the sheer hard work that is Christmas and New Year week ever again.

This week, on the other hand completely, has been the absolute dream. Apart from today (From here on out known as wobbler Wednesdays) this week has seen me neck 5 shots on our bar crawl with some hilarious guests, whilst wearing a helmet, obviously. (Safety first – see proof below). It has also seen me find a friend in a girl my age holidaying with her dad, and sit and have a couple of relaxed beers in my chalets rather than wanting to run and hide from the guests because I have yet more bad news.

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Other than that, a chance encounter (matching on tinder – all about that modern day romance) with the mystery guy right from the beginning of the season slightly confused things, and some weird news from home sent me into deep contemplation (and excessive drinking) but Mr. Situationship has stayed a constant throughout this entire ordeal and I find myself getting more confused by my feelings every day, the old Holly (pre-getting heart ripped out) would have jumped loyally into his arms and prepared herself to be his forever, now I run away from any serious feelings I have because as far as I’m concerned it’s all going to end in tears. Will I see every male as an absolute twat now? This is a whole new realm of uncertainty, how can you tell a genuinely nice person from someone who couldn’t care what happens to you? Before I could talk confidently and openly about my feelings and now I feel like I’m being choked whenever the subject comes up. It’s amazing what one person and their lies can do to your whole personality.

To seal all of this off, I have just received confirmation from my previously-straight-now-lesbian housemate, that all men, are in fact, twats.

Mystery solved. Happy New Year.

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