Sunday, March 3

As The Snow Melts

So do the jobs. Yes, these are the days of our lives. Spring looks like it will make an early call to the Sierra, a bit earlier than we anticipated. Jobs are in jeopardy, resumes are busily being sent, and we are remembering the intricacies of a job search. This time, however, we have some inside information, thanks to Rick's ever vigilant S.O., Jason. Apparently people here don't respond well to emails, etc. You have to call them. All the time. Day and Night. OK. . .

Looks like I will be leaving Squaw officially on March 15th. It's the end of the pay period, and if there isn't any significant snow soon, the end of a few other jobs up there, I have a feeling. It's been fun. Not as much fun at times as I would like. The people we've working with have been wonderful, but there have been times of great frustration. Squaw's not, what we like to call, an "inviting" atmosphere. In short, they really don't know what to do with the queers other than find amusement in them. And while Rick and I can be quite amusing at times, we don't find lack of family benefits, the refusal to acknowledge gay couples (who by the way, spend more than $3500 for season passes), or the outright use of the word "fag" by senior managers to describe us, an inviting atmosphere. Go figure. In fact, go to Alpine Meadows.

Vitriol aside, I've enjoyed working there. But I just can't condone somethings anymore. I couldn't fly on United when it couldn't get it's shit together regarding domestic partner benefits. I couldn't drink Coors beer -- who would want to anyway? I don't know if I can come back to Squaw.

Sometimes you have to take a stand.