After using every form of transport known to man to get to management training (except perhaps rickshaw and canoe) my alarm woke me at 7am (although it was really 6am English time). I awoke next to N - the red headed, pierced girl I had met first at the airport and who had been assigned as my room-mate. We had on the coach the day before all been presented with a bit of paper with our instructions. It mainly said 'be up really early every day, wear a suit, be at dinner for a 5 course meal every day at 7.30, dress smartly'.
So come the next day we were up, suited and booted and on a coach by 8am to the introductory meeting. I don't know whose clever idea it was to get everyone at this meeting in the worlds hottest room. There must have been about 100 people there all attempting to listen to every senior member of management introduce themselves and what they do. It didn't take long before every single person in the room was fighting sleep. Everyone, that is, except the girl in front of me who ran out the room to be sick. I was doing my best not to let on to the tall, rather handsome man with glasses sat next to me that I was in fact 97% asleep. I tried to stay awake by counting all the people I could see who had their eyes shut. I soon lost count. The meeting lasted around 37 hours.
I later discovered that the man with the glasses I had sat next to was my future house mate and the childcare manager at the hotel and he didn't give a toss whether I was asleep or not.
After the meeting we went back and had lunch.
In that afternoon we were made to sit a company knowledge test. I failed. Unsurprisingly.
My experience of being a seasonaire thus far hadn't been very successful. I had done a lot of travelling, had very little sleep, sat in a meeting and failed a test. And I hadn't met any men. However myself, N, V and F the three girls I had met originally seemed to be getting on really well. Especially when we reached my favourite part of everyday. At about 6 all the lecturing finished and we all went off to get ready for dinner. Dinner was supposed to be a formal occasion. The head chefs in the company were all cooking dinner together to get used to the menu, using us as very willing Guinea pigs. It was certainly the best food I would eat for 5 months. And we got unlimited free chalet wine - which after a few days drinking does start to resemble vinegar, but it was free.
There isn't much to say about the actual training at management training. It was for the most part long and we occasionally had to stand up and give presentations about things like recycling and laying the dinner table. I once gave one about bra fitting, I demonstrated how to undo the bras of two different women at the same time. It momentarily livened things up a bit.
It was on the first day of management training that I came in contact with the area manager, one of the greatest women alive. No contest.
So we sat at a desk all day learning things and drank shit loads in the evenings. As it was pre-season there wasn't much else to do in the evenings. I later learnt that the hotel bar took something ridiculous like 15 000 euros in two weeks. Considering there was only ever about 40 people in the building it was very good going.
Monday 30 April 2012
Everyone loves the guests - they are the reason we get to be seasonaires after all!
Over the season we had approximately 1000 guests come and stay at the hotel. The quality of these guests ranged from really cool to mildly irritating to 'I'm counting down the seconds till you get on the transfer coach and get the fuck out of my hotel'.
Right from the first week, when we had a family who had almost been banned from holidaying with the company because the husband had made the last childcare manager cry. He was just generally rude and enjoyed complaining. At one point the then head chef was close to stabbing him when he walked into the kitchen to complain about the soup at afternoon tea.
He also enjoyed walking round the restaurant at breakfast in just a t-shirt and his thermal long johns with his bits flapping around everywhere. I was very surprised that one of the other parents didn't complain that he was upsetting their children - it certainly upset me.
OK guys over to you now - 'remember the guest that....
Safety in the Mountains
As the assistant manager and head of staff welfare (I gave myself that second title, it just means that every time someone was crying and/or threatening to go home I was the one who went to sort them out) it fell to me to give all new staff the 'Safety in the Mountains' talk.
The initial talk was given to me and the other future managers while at training. It was given by the company's head of Health and Safety, a delightful man who had obviously spent years building up his collection of amusing pictures for said talk. For some people in the room it was the fourth or fifth time they had heard him give the talk but apparently his health and safety themed jokes are just as funny the fourth time you hear them as the first.
I adapted the talk and kept adapting it for each new addition to the hotel. I unfortunately did not have any comedy slides or health and safety themed jokes. Contrary to popular belief I was also fully aware that for the most part my useful and sensible advice was going to be totally ignored however earnest everyone appeared upon first hearing it (on the rare occasion, to my downfall, I even ignored it myself ).
Thing my first safety talk included,
1. The altitude!
The altitude affects people in all kind of ways. Some are rather disgusting and odd, it affects your bowels and makes you produce more snot (rates of nose picking amongst staff increase ten fold, as did the rate of me saying 'for fuck sake stop picking your nose you disgusting inbred'). It makes you burn calories faster which was a massive plus for those of us who went out needing to drop more than a few pounds, but it also means your diet needs to be altered to include more carbohydrates and sugar or the exhaustion will set in.
The main one that affects seasonaires is it makes you get pissed faster. Altitude and alcohol. It was great in a way - as alcohol in ski resorts is so ridiculously expensive - but as the sensible assistant manager - warnings were issued and ignored, as I knew they would be.
2. Drugs!
Contrary to popular belief, I have no problem with people taking drugs, I am not shocked or bothered by them. I often toe the party line when talking about them because I have to. I don't take them myself because I am just not interested and for the most part, my friends just aren't interested either. And because people who get to 25 and have taken too many drugs just talk about it all the time believing they are really cool and are in fact boring everyone in the room. That and I just don't have the money for something as expensive as drugs, I would much rather buy something else, something that didn't make me vomit down myself or run down the street naked or some such stupid thing that I would be bound to do.
3. Sex!
Being a seasonaire is like being a student, there is sex everywhere (or almost everywhere if you're me). Unlike being a student in England when your a seasonaire it costs a minimum of 50 euros to go to the doctor. This leads to two things, STIs and pregnancy. I tried to keep this one simple. Use a condom and if you girls find yourself in trouble please come and talk to me. Luckily no one did, not heard about a seasonaire baby amongst my staff yet. About the STI's I haven't heard and really do not want to
This concluded my first health and safety talk. Three items were later included;
1. People will bitch about you, they have nothing else to talk about. Ignore it
2. Everyone will know everything you do, nothing will be secret. If you don't want everyone to talk about it don't do it.
3. Don't let the baby faced boy with the long blonde hair persuade you its a good idea to get with him. He will do his best to wear you down. Just say no.
The initial talk was given to me and the other future managers while at training. It was given by the company's head of Health and Safety, a delightful man who had obviously spent years building up his collection of amusing pictures for said talk. For some people in the room it was the fourth or fifth time they had heard him give the talk but apparently his health and safety themed jokes are just as funny the fourth time you hear them as the first.
I adapted the talk and kept adapting it for each new addition to the hotel. I unfortunately did not have any comedy slides or health and safety themed jokes. Contrary to popular belief I was also fully aware that for the most part my useful and sensible advice was going to be totally ignored however earnest everyone appeared upon first hearing it (on the rare occasion, to my downfall, I even ignored it myself ).
Thing my first safety talk included,
1. The altitude!
The altitude affects people in all kind of ways. Some are rather disgusting and odd, it affects your bowels and makes you produce more snot (rates of nose picking amongst staff increase ten fold, as did the rate of me saying 'for fuck sake stop picking your nose you disgusting inbred'). It makes you burn calories faster which was a massive plus for those of us who went out needing to drop more than a few pounds, but it also means your diet needs to be altered to include more carbohydrates and sugar or the exhaustion will set in.
The main one that affects seasonaires is it makes you get pissed faster. Altitude and alcohol. It was great in a way - as alcohol in ski resorts is so ridiculously expensive - but as the sensible assistant manager - warnings were issued and ignored, as I knew they would be.
2. Drugs!
Contrary to popular belief, I have no problem with people taking drugs, I am not shocked or bothered by them. I often toe the party line when talking about them because I have to. I don't take them myself because I am just not interested and for the most part, my friends just aren't interested either. And because people who get to 25 and have taken too many drugs just talk about it all the time believing they are really cool and are in fact boring everyone in the room. That and I just don't have the money for something as expensive as drugs, I would much rather buy something else, something that didn't make me vomit down myself or run down the street naked or some such stupid thing that I would be bound to do.
3. Sex!
Being a seasonaire is like being a student, there is sex everywhere (or almost everywhere if you're me). Unlike being a student in England when your a seasonaire it costs a minimum of 50 euros to go to the doctor. This leads to two things, STIs and pregnancy. I tried to keep this one simple. Use a condom and if you girls find yourself in trouble please come and talk to me. Luckily no one did, not heard about a seasonaire baby amongst my staff yet. About the STI's I haven't heard and really do not want to
This concluded my first health and safety talk. Three items were later included;
1. People will bitch about you, they have nothing else to talk about. Ignore it
2. Everyone will know everything you do, nothing will be secret. If you don't want everyone to talk about it don't do it.
3. Don't let the baby faced boy with the long blonde hair persuade you its a good idea to get with him. He will do his best to wear you down. Just say no.
Leave behind your friends, your high heels and all your morals and get on an aeroplane to management training
After being driven to Leeds train station, getting a train to Manchester Airport, an aeroplane to Heathrow Terminal 5, spending a couple of hours in Terminal 5 wondering who comes to an airport and buys a new Gucci suit and lunches on caviar and champagne, then another flight to Geneva and a coach, I finally arrived at management training in Courchevel in the 3 Valleys.
It was getting on the coach that I met the three people with whom I would spend the majority of next two weeks. The first I had noticed in the departures lounge at Heathrow. The second was piling her huge amount of luggage onto a trolley (I could just about carry mine) and the third was helping with the second's luggage.
Instinct told me that it was a good idea to attach myself to this group of interesting looking women. Especially number one, who had dyed red hair and a lip piercing and didn't look anywhere near as nervous as I felt. She immediately assumed we would sit next to each other on the coach and I breathed a sign of enormous relief as I realised I wouldn't be left on my own. The other two girls took their seats across from us and a dark haired girl sat behind.
It didn't take long before it was obvious the coach was split between those for whom this was old hat, the experienced seasonaires and those who were new and nervous. It also didn't take long before I realised that the second person I had had met since getting off the aeroplane in Switzerland was possibly one of the loudest girls I had ever met. V was blonde, busty, beautiful and very very sure of herself. She always knew that everyone in the room was looking at her and often did her best to ensure this was the case. I thought she was fabulous.
We all began those awkward conversations that you have with a group of people you have never met (where are you from? what did you used to do?) and the conversations that seasonaires have with each other (have you skied before? where are you going? skier or boarder). The skiers try to prove they are just as cool as the boarders and the boarders try to prove they are cool enough to be boarders.
As we start to climb up the mountain two things began to be obvious. The first was that there was no snow. None anywhere. Disgruntled moans get louder and louder. The second was that the quite, dark haired girl sat behind me was not feeling very well. When someone is ill on a coach I really want to be the person who helps, who looks after them, the Florence Nightingale figure. What I really am is the person who doesn't want to be sat near a person vomiting on a coach (ever since a rather nasty event when I was helping out on a local primary school trip and a child was sick and I ended up vomiting outside Embankment tube station being watched by 10 year 5s) . These two conflicting ideas fight inside me and I eventually say 'Just breath deeply, close your eyes and try and get some sleep...oh and if your actually going to be sick please let us know'. She wasn't sick thank God, but she did do a lot of complaining about not feeling well all the way until we got to the hotel and she realised it was dinner time.
It was getting on the coach that I met the three people with whom I would spend the majority of next two weeks. The first I had noticed in the departures lounge at Heathrow. The second was piling her huge amount of luggage onto a trolley (I could just about carry mine) and the third was helping with the second's luggage.
Instinct told me that it was a good idea to attach myself to this group of interesting looking women. Especially number one, who had dyed red hair and a lip piercing and didn't look anywhere near as nervous as I felt. She immediately assumed we would sit next to each other on the coach and I breathed a sign of enormous relief as I realised I wouldn't be left on my own. The other two girls took their seats across from us and a dark haired girl sat behind.
It didn't take long before it was obvious the coach was split between those for whom this was old hat, the experienced seasonaires and those who were new and nervous. It also didn't take long before I realised that the second person I had had met since getting off the aeroplane in Switzerland was possibly one of the loudest girls I had ever met. V was blonde, busty, beautiful and very very sure of herself. She always knew that everyone in the room was looking at her and often did her best to ensure this was the case. I thought she was fabulous.
We all began those awkward conversations that you have with a group of people you have never met (where are you from? what did you used to do?) and the conversations that seasonaires have with each other (have you skied before? where are you going? skier or boarder). The skiers try to prove they are just as cool as the boarders and the boarders try to prove they are cool enough to be boarders.
Sunday 29 April 2012
When was the last time??
When was the last time you felt fully rested?
When was the last time you woke up and thought 'I'v had enough sleep'
When was the last time you thought 'What I really fancy for lunch is a ham/cheese baguette'?
When was the last you had 'chicken' for dinner and it was really chicken and not turkey?
When was the last time that you didn't blame being drunk on the altitude?
Six months ago?!?!?!?!?!?!?
When was the last time you woke up and thought 'I'v had enough sleep'
When was the last time you thought 'What I really fancy for lunch is a ham/cheese baguette'?
When was the last you had 'chicken' for dinner and it was really chicken and not turkey?
When was the last time that you didn't blame being drunk on the altitude?
Six months ago?!?!?!?!?!?!?
Lets start at the very beginning...
Lets get one thing out of the way right from the start. I am not a great skier, I wasn't that interested in skiing back in October and I can still, even after living in a ski village, find lots of things I would much rather do than throw myself down the side of a mountain. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy a couple of hours slowly meandering down a nice green run (very occasionally a gentle blue) looking at the scenery. This is why I point blank refuse to ski with other seasonaires. They go fast, ski on slopes you do not want to go on and then wait at the bottom of the run tutting while watching you carefully and slowly working your way all the way across the slope. I on these occasions was often trying not to shout 'I'm going to die', while they helpfully shout 'just point your skis down the fucking mountain'. Then just as you reach them and you're looking forward to a nice 5 minute rest, they shoot off again leaving you to relive the whole horrific experience again.
I learnt very quickly that skiing in a group was not for me. It was often commented on that I never went skiing. I did, I went quite often, its just that I went on my own.
So why would a 24 year old get up one day in early October and decide to go do a season? Honestly...my mother made me. Well she strongly suggested it would be a good idea. I had graduated uni (twice, there are the letters B.A (hons) MA after my name!) and was convinced I would fall into the job of my dreams. I wanted to spend my days writing about History (there I said it, I am shamelessly going to admit to being a historian). And in reality I found myself back living with my mum and working as a Bra Fitter. Not the job of my dreams. A job I hated, downright hated.
A few weeks earlier I had logged onto Facebook and found that Rosie had died. A girl I had worked with in another terrible job I once had in a call centre. She was younger than me. She went on holiday and a blood clot had formed in her leg, dislodged, reached her heart and she died. She had all these plans for life and she never got a chance to do them. She worked in a call centre and made these amazing plans and then she died. I knew that I had to do something, while I could. For me and also, just a little bit for Rosie. But what?
A couple of weeks later my mum, a complete and utter skiing addict, said something along the lines of 'your unhappy all the time, go and clean toilets in the Alps and have the best winter of your life'.
NO was my instant reaction. If I'm in the Alps I wont be able to look for new jobs, what if the job of my dreams comes up and I miss it?'
'GO' replied my rather forceful mother 'stop hanging round my house looking miserable'.
The longer I thought about it, the better it sounded. New start, new job, new people. Potential to have lots of sex with attractive men (that one didn't really pan out in the long term), maybe I would discover a love of skiing (neither did that one).
Anyway so I applied for a job cleaning toilets and they asked me to be a hotel assistant manager. I handed my notice in that day and three weeks later I was on a plane.
Back in the UK
I have been back in England a whole week and it has rained every single day. Facebook informs me almost hourly that my fellow seasonaires, although enjoying the luxuries that England provides and the Alps don't (such as being able to get more than one pint with your £10 and regular access to a hairdresser) are somewhat feeling the loss of the mountains and the bitchy camaraderie of living, skiing, working and playing with the same people day in and day out.
So here is the first post of my new blog, a blog in which I intend to document the lives, loves and losses of a group of very different people, thrown together randomly and placed 1700m above sea level. Some people came, some people couldn't face it and some people made it through until the bitter end (which ended up being 21st April 2012)
The posts won't generally be in time order. Just written as things come to me, but I will do my best to make sure they make sense.
And feel free to add your own memories or remind me of things I have forgotten!
So here is the first post of my new blog, a blog in which I intend to document the lives, loves and losses of a group of very different people, thrown together randomly and placed 1700m above sea level. Some people came, some people couldn't face it and some people made it through until the bitter end (which ended up being 21st April 2012)
The posts won't generally be in time order. Just written as things come to me, but I will do my best to make sure they make sense.
And feel free to add your own memories or remind me of things I have forgotten!
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