Counting the Minutes
My time moves pretty slow most of the time. I’m the guy that checks you into your hotel. I say hi to you, and send you on your way. You just came from a tough meeting. The weather forced you off the interstate. Your toddlers are freaking nuts. Regardless of why I’m checking you into my hotel, you don’t want to talk to me and I’m man enough to admit that.
But, if you came up to me and asked what really got me going, I wouldn’t say I loved working in a hotel. I would say I worked in a hotel in order to support my mountain lifestyle. I do a little bit of everything; skiing, mountain biking, kayaking…you name it. My coworkers think I’m weird because my jeep is always muddy and smelling like wet boots. My boss wonders why I always have the weather report up on my computer desktop. Guests at the hotel wonder how I know all the best local hiking spots. Yes ma’am, I can find you a place where you won’t run into any other tourists. Put away your iphone and write down these directions. There is no GPS signal where you’re going.
My point is that you have no idea what might get somebody else through the day unless you ask. I spend my time at work looking out the window at the mountains. I beg departing guests in ski pants to take me with them. Most of the time they just look at me and laugh. You’re the kid behind the hotel desk. Indeed I am.
However, a job pays the bills, and a passion gets you through the hours. Some people are lucky enough to have both wrapped into one, and I applaud them. Some people live vicariously through the pros, and never get off their sofa. And then some of us punch out on the time clock and sprint for the door; desperate to get a new coat of mud on that jeep.
To the sofa sitters; find the passion in your life. You owe it to yourself. To the guest scoffing in the ski pants; I will beat you down the mountain old man. And to the outdoor community; You are an inspiration that gets me through the work week. Thank you.
- : Standard