The Yellowstoners

What can I say about those I met in Yellowstone? When referring to any large group of people, I have never been able to say that there is not a single person that I don’t like.  In all honesty, I can’t really say that about this group either, but it’s the closest I’ve come to it. This was the most dynamic and fascinating collection of weirdoes and free-spirits I’ve ever come across. There were also college students and recent graduates who came from all over the U.S. and the world. A number of the employees I met are people who have, for years, traveled from one location to the next, doing seasonal jobs, and making their way back around—some in their twenties, some in their fifties, and several in between. To them, the idea of a 9 to 5, permanent job is terribly disturbing. To avoid this domestic trap that so many of their fellow human beings willingly fall into, they take advantage of the seasonally opened national parks, ski lodges, and beach resorts. These professional nomads form friendships based on a common desire to celebrate life as it comes: friendships that are put on hold at the end of the season but recommence the following year without pause or awkwardness. This subculture of people—many of whom are close to my age, come from similar backgrounds, have college degrees in sociology, psychology, English, and so on—has somehow maintained an understanding of life that I have acknowledged but have yet to accept in full: the understanding that life is, as has been stated, short: that we are all presented with a brief opportunity to experience as much as we can and paint the canvas that is our lives with as many colors as possible before the brush is taken away. These are the people who refuse to work with a reliable grey or beige. At the end of the season, they discard everything that will slow them down and keep only the essentials.

 

My biggest regret regarding my stay in Yellowstone is that I spent too little time with my fellow employees. It seemed like 5 months would be sufficient, and that I would have plenty of chances. But as the season rolled on, a few returned to school. Then, two of the most wonderful ladies I’ve ever met went home to Singapore. Eventually, our beautiful Nina (server assistant extraordinaire) left for her tour of the country, and then home to Taiwan. You would think I’d have learned my lesson and spent the remainder of the season with those who stayed on. But I simply could not keep up with them. How they had the energy to stay out at the employee pub until 3 a.m. and be at work by 6 a.m. for the breakfast shift was beyond me. Each time I considered joining them, I envisioned myself keeling over into a guest’s full stack of blueberry pancakes.  Another barrier between the group and me was my aversion to spending money. A night of partying can significantly deplete one’s cash funds, and having a fairly serious (and permanent) case of buyer’s remorse myself, I only went out on occasion and usually felt guilty about it in the morning. This sense of frugality did not belong to my friends, however, who impatiently awaited the arrival of their paychecks (most of them strategically planned their two days off to immediately follow that arrival) before they departed on some adventure.

Yellowstone National Park

Once in Yellowstone National Park, I began to feel anxious. In mid-May, the ground was still covered with snow and cautionary signs flashed icy road warnings. I hadn’t spent much time in the food and beverage industry and had very little confidence in my ability to efficiently clear tables. In addition, the Lake Hotel Dining Room was not only a four star restaurant, but the only eating establishment that would be open in that location for the next month. With the hotel and cabins booked for the entire summer, the dining room would be wall-to-wall tourists who had just spent days trapped in four-door traveling prisons with their families. Needless to say, I did not have high hopes for understanding and tolerant customers.



Frozen Lake



The first thing we did was pick up our uniforms, a task that failed to elevate my spirits. Between the yellowing white button down shirts, which had clearly suffered years of over starching and cheap detergent, and the high-fitting black pants that were too short, even for me (I’m barely 5’2), and closed in on your waist like the trash compactor in Star Wars: A New Hope, in the fashion of Barbie’s designer jeans, I felt, shall we say, odd? And I mustn’t forget the stylish bowties that triggered in me an impulse to slap my own reflection in the face when confronted by a mirror.

Later we were assigned our dorm room and instructed to show up at the hotel in full uniform at 9 a.m. the following day. The following day we would also notice that we were the only employees in uniform. Apparently, immediately after we received our assignment, personnel decided it would be pointless for us to wear our uniforms during training.

Within the first hour of orientation, I was pulled aside by a manager and told that there were not enough servers, and they wanted to move me up to the position.  Three other server assistants were petitioned along with me. All of us accepted after being told how much servers usually made during the season. Immediately after, I sat down by a second year Yellowstoner who had worked in the pantry the previous season but had applied to be a server assistant this year to make more money. When I asked, why not a server, she replied:

         
       “Are you kidding? I can’t be a server. It’s too stressful. Last year my roommate was a server. She came home crying after like six dinner shifts. So, what’s your job going to be?”

A Little Travel

The first thing I did after I graduated was wish I was back in school. It was much easier when I had goals, and several professors to tell me what they were and in which font they should be.

Realizing that the period after graduation and before marriage, children, and Volvos, is the best time to get any traveling done, I began looking into cheap ways to do it.

I was able to visit my boyfriend in Quito, Ecuador where he was completing his student teaching (he has the calling). Talk about cheap. He paid for all of it. Thanks, Zimmer. I am still amazed by how Quito was both chaotic and homey all at once. To contrast the ceaseless energy of the city, Aaron took me to visit the cloud-forest of Mindo, where we stayed at Hosteria Mariposas.  It was my first visit to South America. I was only there for 12 days, and I hope to go back someday soon.

A few months earlier, we had applied to several national parks and heard back from Yellowstone first. We eagerly accepted the offered positions of server assistants, and as soon as he returned from South America, made our way from Georgia to Wyoming.

Doing new things is much more difficult for me than I would like to admit. It’s always good to have a little push: someone you can’t disappoint, a written contract, a prepaid flight. I find it helpful to have some factor that maintains the notion that if you back out at the last minute, you’ll look like a tool. I hope that this overstated life lesson isn’t too irritating. You rarely regret doing something you’ve never done before, but you almost always regret what you haven’t done.

Job Search

There’s an overwhelming inefficiency that accompanies most job searches, especially when you have no idea what you want to do with your life. You only know that if someone would give you an undertaking, you’d probably be good at it, if not because of an aptitude then because of your desperation to be doing anything at all. As you follow one bad lead after another- wasting precious fuel, both emotional and automotive- you find yourself looking longingly at the many landscapers hard at work, as you drive passed, and wishing that despite your years of essay writing, both worthwhile and crap assignments, that you were not a 5’2” girl with little upper body strength. There would be gratification in landscaping, which is more than you can say about waiting tables. But still, the driving around is better than sitting in front of the computer, clicking Refresh every 10 to 12 minutes on a Craigslist page or whatever job search engine you have up at the moment.

I guess the times that are most disheartening are the days that I find myself envying my cat. My sweet Olivia, who is content with a 13 hour nap and a balled up sheet of paper, will never have to worry about paying rent. While I would by no means begrudge her a  life of leisure—she is most deserving, and I often find her to be a much better person than I am—I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to not be concerned with work, bills, or my figure (she is a beautifully voluptuous feline).

An English Major: Post Graduation

The advantage to being an English Major is that you are able to spend your college years taking courses on fascinating subjects. While your friends are signing up for Fixed Income Securities 4320 and Investigating Critical and Contemporary Issues in Education 2110, you are awarded the excuse to learn about all kinds of atypical topics. Aside from the standards, such as Shakespeare, Critical Theory, or Brit Lit (which are all good), you can fill your schedule with things like Blues in American History, The 19^th Century Horror Novel, or Film Studies. The drawback to being an English Major is… what the hell are you supposed to do after you graduate?

 Despite your inexperience and relative inconsequentiality, at this time in your life you are a terribly fascinating person.  Whether you run into a friend of your parents or are introduced to distant relatives of your friend at a Christmas party, you are assaulted with interrogations about your future.  It becomes a little discouraging when each time one of these acquaintances asks you what your major was, the following dialogue ensues:

               "I majored in English."
               "Oh...So, you're going to be a teacher?" or "English education?"


Of course, you smile understandingly and explain that you would like to explore your options before you go back to school for your inevitable education degree. But what you really want to say is, “No, dammit. I’m not going to be a teacher. English isn’t taught just so it can continue to be taught. There are other ways to use it.” Then again, you can’t list those ways because, although you believe in their existence, you haven’t been able to figure out what they are. And it’s not that you have anything against the idea of teaching. It’s a noble profession that carries with it a great responsibility. It’s also a profession that is overrun with floaters who couldn’t think of what else to do and neither have the desire nor the ability to teach children. In short, a prospective teacher should have a calling for the field, and perhaps you do not possess this calling. And so the conversation continues:
              
               "Really? What else can you do with it?"

So the real problem with having an English degree is that once you have it, you have to continue to decide what you want to do. And having so many options can be very restricting.

In between unrelated rants, I’ll let you know what’s going on. Do not expect an inspirational story of how I used my proficiency for grammar and word usage to work my way into the ideal literary position. The truth is that I'm terrified and practically (not completely) directionless. But luckily, I'm far from finished.