Tag Archives: work campers

Aug30

Fire on the Mountain (Reprise)

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Our employee appreciation pizza party was supposed to be yesterday. The Man and I scheduled our whole day around it. I sure was excited to stuff myself with delicious pizza.

We were at the public library when I got the call. The Man had gone inside to print insurance documents, and I’d stayed in the van in the blistering heat with the dog. The Man had been having trouble completing his task and had come to ask me for help when my phone rang.

It was The Big Boss Man calling to tell us the pizza party had been postponed, There was a fire on the mountain. The road to Babylon on that side of the mountain was closed, and three of the campgrounds run by the company I work for had been evacuated and shut down. We’d have to eat pizza another day.

Almost exactly the same thing happened last year. A fire started on the mountain and one of the two roads to Babylon had been closed. I’d gotten the call saying the party had been postpones while I was still in town. As The Lady of the House said, what are the chances a fire would postpone our pizza party two years in a row?

Since we wouldn’t be eating pizza, we bought our groceries as quickly as we could so we could get out of the heat. The drive up was a little tense because we didn’t know what we would find at the top.

As The Big Boss Man had warned me, the main road leading to the entrance to our campground was closed. The exit lane was left open, but the entrance lane was barricaded and had a large “road closed” sign in front. No one was guarding the road, so it was easy enough to swing the van around the barricades.

We went right to the mercantile to call The Big Boss Man for an update, but we found him driving through the campground. He pulled his truck near our van, and we talked for a while.

The fire is big and threatening homes (some seasonal, some year-round) and property, so there are many firefighters trying to control it. Our campground, the trail, and the campground where the mercantile is located are not officially closed, but the the authorities want to discourage extra people from being up here, hence the roadblock. The reservation service has cancelled all reservations for Labor Day weekend at all of the Forest Service campgrounds on the mountain. The company I work for will lose all the revenue, as well as all the revenue the mercantile and parking lot would have brought in.

Where does this leave us?

The Man was supposed to work in the parking lot today, but since no one is likely to cross the barricade to visit the trees, he’s not needed there. The Big Boss Man said he could scrape and paint picnic tables, as he’d been planning to do some point later in the season.

The Mercantile is closed, so I’m not working there today. The Big Boss Man said I could help paint picnic tables, but I’d rather have another day off. However, I can’t afford to not get paid for too many days. I’ll have to find something to do tomorrow or the next day, but I don’t know how The Big Boss Man can possibly keep me, The Man, and three other camp hosts (if and when they come back up) busy if there are no tourists.

I don’t feel as if we are in any danger. Unlike during the fire time last year, we haven’t been warned an evacuation may be coming. Ash is not falling from the sky onto the campground. (Ash is reportedly falling from the  sky in the campground where The Big Boss Man stays, twelve miles up the road.) Last night the light looked normal, but this morning it had the weird yellow cast I learned last year means a fire is nearby.

It’s a waiting game now. Will there be any work for us? Should we stay or should we go? If we go, where? The story will contine to unfold in the next few days. For now, I’m taking the day off, sitting at the mercantile and scheduling blog posts while The Man paints tables.

If you pray or light candles or send good vibes, please put in a word for the firefighters, the people and animals whose homes are in danger, the campers who won’t get to come up here for their Labor Day weekend, and for me and The Man, who need to work and would like to eat free pizza soon.

Jul16

The Fourth of July (Part 2)

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To read the first part of the story of my Fourth of July experiences, go here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/07/15/the-fourth-of-july/.

After thinking on site #4, I knew the only option I really had was to drive to the other campground and get the refund form from the other host. I wasn’t happy about that idea for several reasons.

#1 I was exhausted and didn’t want to drive again that day.

#2 I was exhausted and hungry and wanted to eat dinner and go to bed.

#3 I was exhausted and I didn’t want the other camp host to hold me hostage and talk my ear off (figuratively speaking on both counts).

#4 It was late in the evening, and I didn’t want to drive back to my campground in the dark.

#5 The rest of the party had arrived on site #9, and if I left, I’d have two cars to contend with when I returned and had to back my van into my campsite in front of God and everyone.

But I did my duty and drove down to the other campground.

The other host did not have the form I needed.

She dug through folders and boxes and bags, but didn’t find the form. She had what I had, a single page photocopy of the form with the sections to be filled out by someone other than the camp host crossed out. She decided what I needed to do was fill out both forms with the same information and have the camper write the reason for seeking the refund on the back of both sheets.

I took the page she had and drove back to my campground. It wasn’t dark yet, and for that I was grateful.

When I got to my campsite, I began maneuvering the van so I could back into my site. I could have pulled in nose first, but then I would have had to back out in the morning or—Heaven forbid—in the middle of the night if there had been an emergency.

There’s a stump on one edge of my campsite, and I didn’t want to hit it. I’m well aware that the stump is there, as I maneuver next to it several times a week. I knew I was close to it, but suddenly one guy from site #9 was on the side of my van “directing” me (and making sure I didn’t hit his car, I suppose), and the Eastern Block (or German or Russian or whatever) authoritarian was standing between my van and the water tank, waving his arms around. I was not amused.

However, when I got out of the van, I thanked them.

Before I could walk away, the authoritarian asswipe gestured at my van and said with contempt dripping from his words, What is this? A bus?

I wanted to kick him in his nuts and tell him to go fuck his mother, but instead I said very calmly, This is my home. Then I walked away.

Before I ate dinner, I went back to site #4 and completed the request for refund paperwork.

As I cooked my dinner, the children from site #9 crossed into and out of the meadow at the back of my site. I hate it when people cross my site—it’s so rude!—but since we all own the forest, I have no right to expect people to polite and take ten extra steps.

It was dark and late by the time I finished cleaning up from dinner. I was entirely exhausted by that time, but still had to listen to the children camped next to my site squeal and shriek and generally make noise until we all passed out.

I was up around 6am on the 4th, cleaning the restrooms and making sure nothing terrible had happened in the night. (I found no evidence of terribleness.)

I arrived at the parking lot at 9am, as instructed. I don’t remember anything noteworthy happening. The day is a blur in my memory–a lot of people and a lot of cars with nothing and no one standing out.

I did ask my supervisor about the folks on site #6 who were given a discount on a card the company I work for doesn’t honor. She told me I was going to have to ask them to pay the balance. She said anybody could enter any numbers and get a discount, so if people get a discount they don’t qualify for, I have to ask them to pay the difference.

So I did it. I explained the situation and asked them to pay the $22 they hadn’t been charged. And they very nicely paid the money. While I wrote the permit for the additional payment, I regaled them with stories of working at the parking lot. They laughed in all the right places, and I wished I could hang out with them for the rest of the evening.

There was one sad event of note on Sunday morning before I left for the parking lot. I heard the sounds of angry voices and some kind of scuffle coming from site #9. I looked up to see the authoritarian asswipe smacking the older boy on his head and upper body. The boy tried to run away, and the man chased him, grabbed him, and smacked him a few more times. Neither of them was speaking English, so I don’t know what words were passing between them. I don’t know if either of them knew I’d seen what happened.

I didn’t know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to yell at the asswipe and beat him with a stick. But I knew that would get me fired and probably thrown in jail, and it wouldn’t have helped the kid at all. I didn’t know how to intervene in a way that would have diffused the situation. It’s not like the asswipe and I had some sort of rapport. Even if I had been able to speak calmly, I don’t know what I would have said. I worried that if I intervened, the man would just take it out on  the kid later. I wondered if I should say something directly to the kid, but what? You dad is a mean idiot, but you won’t be little forever. Would that have been helpful in any way?

I didn’t know what to do, and I haven’t had any good ideas in the ensuing days. I’m haunted by the whole experience, and I think I really failed that kid.

The weekend did end on a (literal and figurative) sweet note. As I was about to pull out of my campsite and head to the parking lot, the two gay Australian guys walked up and offered me their leftover pink and white marshmallows. They told me thy had a “lovely” time, told me I’d been just “lovely.” They said they hoped to come back to the campground next summer, and they hoped they’d see me again.

If the 4th of July is the midpoint of summer, my time on the mountain is half over.

Mar2

The Big Tent

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The Big Tent is what folks call it, but the actual name of the event is The Quartzsite Sports, Vacation & RV Show. It’s been held every year since 1984, although the location within the town has changed several times. People travel to Quartzsite in their RVs (motorhomes, vans, campers, fifth wheels, etc.) from all over the country to enjoy the warm Arizona weather and see what’s new in the Big Tent.

The Quartzsite Sports, Vacation & RV Show has grown from 60 exhibitors and a small tent to this year’s 69,000 square foot fully carpeted indoor exhibit area at 700 South Central Blvd.

This year the Big Tent was open January 17th through 25th. I visited it on the Saturday opening day and on Tuesday the 20th.

I went to the Big Tent the first time because I was trying to get a job as a camp host. I’d been told that the best camp host company to work for would have a booth at the Big Tent. I was told I should go there to meet the boss in charge of staffing, that I’d be interviewed and probably hired on the spot.

It didn’t happen quite that way.

The big boss was there, but when I walked up, he was busy and barely spoke to me. He wasn’t unfriendly, just busy. I talked to another man who works for the company who told me to go to their website, see what jobs were available, fill out an online application, and wait for a phone interview. Why had I come to the Big Tent on opening day?

I’d arrived at the tent at about ten minutes early, but nobody was getting in early that morning. The line started moving at exactly nine o’clock.

By the time I got inside, the place was already packed.

I wasn’t surprised to see RV park booths, RV insurance booths, booths staffed with folks trying to convince people to drive their RVs north to Canada and south to Mexico. I wasn’t surprised to see an Arizona State Parks booth, a KOA campground booth, and a Good Sam’s Club booth.

Several casinos had booths, complete with wheels to spin. Spin the wheel, win a prize, but not until one coughed up one’s name, mailing address, email address, and phone number. I tried to win several times (and won nothing more memorable than multiple decks of cards), so I’m sure my mailbox will shortly be full of casino propaganda.

Several booths were dedicated to recruiting work campers. One of those booths belonged to Workamper News, the website to check out (I was told at the RTR) to get hooked up with work camping opportunities. Amazon.com was present, recruiting for its CamperForce. The sugar beet harvest people were there too, and I had a nice talk with a nice midwestern man, but quickly realized that sugar beet harvest work is too strenuous for me. Several companies looking to hire camp hosts were also in the Big Tent.

I was surprised to see multiple booths selling pillows. I understand that RVers use pillows. But why would someone buy pillows at at sports, vacation, and RV show? Wal-Mart sells pillows. Kmart sells pillows. Sears and JCPenney and the freakin’ Family Dollar probably sell pillows. Pillows can be ordered from Amazon.com. Why were these RV show pillows so special? I don’t know because I did not stop at any of the many pillow booths and discuss the desirability of their pillows.

On a related note, the funniest thing I saw in a booth was a man lying in a bed on a platform a couple of feet off the floor. He was selling some special RV bedding, and he was demonstrating this bedding by lying in a bed. The big come-on with this bedding is that one wouldn’t have to make the bed if one had this bedding. Basically, the bedding was a double sleeping bag placed on top of a mattress. There was no tucking of sheets and blankets because this item was a blanket pouch. Is making an RV bed so difficult that people would rather sleep in a double sleeping bag? In any case, whenever I saw this grown man lying down in bed while trying to convince people to buy his wares, it cracked me up.

I was also surprised to see people in so many booths trying to sell kitchen gadgets. I do understand that RVs have kitchens, which might lead RVers to buy kitchen gadgets, but it seems like those items too are available in just about any regular store. Do people get caught up in the frenzy of shopping at the Big Tent, only to wake up to reality later and find their yellow freebie KOA tote bag full of silicone bowl covers and long skinny plastic chip clips?

The least explicable booths were those selling makeup, hand creme, and jewelry (especially an “ion” bracelet some lady tried to slip on my wrist). I didn’t stop at any of those booths, but from my cruise past, I didn’t see anything that looked unique or revolutionary.

My favorite booth was the one run by Minute Rice. There was a wheel to spin and prizes to win. When I spun the wheel, it stopped on “emery board.” Boring! However, the nice ladies were also giving out two-packs of the precooked, microwaveable rice. There was even a choice: white, brown, or jasmine. And they didn’t want my email address!

I know I mentioned it was crowded in that tent, but let me just say again, the place was packed. At one point, the crowd in the aisle was at a complete standstill. There was a tall young man next to me, and I asked him what he saw up ahead. He said it was just a bunch of people standing still. As soon as I made it out of that quagmire (without ever seeing a reason for movement to have ceased), I ducked out of the next exit door into the sunshine. There were more booths on the outside around the perimeter of the Big Tent, but nothing held my attention long enough for me to stop.

When I went back on Tuesday (because I was in the area to purchase items from several of the booths in the Tyson Wells shopping area), the Big Tent was mostly the same. The Minute Rice ladies were gone (they must have run out of rice), but I made up for it by playing a couple of fun and silly games at the Progressive booth, where the workers were a bunch of young gals dressed like Flo! There (thankfully) weren’t as many people in the Big Tent, so we all had a little more elbow room.

The Big Tent (like Mardi Gras) is definitely something to see once, if one is in the right place at the right time. I’m not sure I would go there again. If I did go there again, I probably would not do so on opening day. And hopefully I’d own a working camera so I could get a photo of that man in the bed.

In 2016, I got a photo of the man in bed! Go here: http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2016/03/02/the-big-tent-2016/ to see it.