Stop ’em all quitting with a Barbie.

Yea there’s eight on the way out it seems. And one’s broken her pelvis. And I’ve heard a few rumours of family holidays. Ummmmmmn.

What’s that phrase? If you can’t handle the heat: fuck off.

So I get a phone call from one of my hosts telling me that she needs my manager’s number because another one of my hosts has had an accident.
What? What accident? How bad?
Just give me the number?
What? Blood-wagon bad?

The number?
Helicopter bad?!!

Turns out we’re not getting our host back because the poor thing cracked her pelvis in three and got choppered down to hospital. Apparently she got hit on by one of the medics up the mountain and that he visited her in hospital (looking not as attractive without his helmet on, and without her morphine probably) and brought her sushi which she doesn’t like. Bit creepy! It’s like: mate, she’s just broken her pelvis… it’s not gonna happen. Can’t you try, I don’t know, a bar or a club or something, like normal people… you wierdo. I tell you what, if I ever need a blood-wagon, and he starts looking me up and down, pelvis or no pelvis… I’ll nut him.

So that was one down. (Literally). Two had already left: both slightly older than the rest of us and constantly moaning and complaining and incapable and off ya go and get a grip. Thats fine, if you can’t handle the mustard: don’t have a beef and mustard sandwich, you tit.
Two more have just announced they are leaving this Sunday. He’s got a ‘very important’ job back in London, which we all know what it is but can’t talk about. I sprayed him with champagne which he wasn’t happy about but then don’t tell us how well you’re career is going, whilst we’re stuck shovelling snow, if you don’t want to be doused in something mildly flammable in a blanket of celebration. So he’s off and taking the girlfriend with him. Lovely couple and more on here in the next post (she was my Valentine’s woo – all shall be revealed).

Then one more said she was going to another company because the boyfriend can’t find a job and he didn’t have a lift pass so they were trying to find a company that would take them both. I hope they stay: I’d miss him because he’s a little lad.

And then in one of our live-in chalets (where the hosts live in one of the bedrooms) the couple – who have always led a fairly tumultuous relationship I’d guess – have broken up and he’s moved out so God knows what’s gonna happen there. The poor lad is crushed and I know just how he feels but I keep telling him he’s much better that her and without her and he’s a top lad so he’ll kick on soon.

And then I know a few secrets, or I’ve heard a few on the grapevine, and we might see a few more dropping.

Not good for management you’ve got to say. And I feel sorry for them. But it’s part of a ski season I’ve heard.

You’re basically hiring people with not a care in the world who just want to go skiing.And when the ski’s shit because there’s no snow… Not what you want on the CV really.

So off they go into the sunset whilst we raise a beer to them at our “keep your chins up and nobody else fucking leave, please, BBQ”.

Good beer, good meat, good giggle.


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