It’s summer folks. To many, that word means freedom, the sounds of laughing children, and extreme laziness. Summer, to some people, does not solely mean season on earth in which it is hot. To them, it means it’s time to kickback and have fun.

I almost forget what that’s like. Almost. I remember it enough to the point where I glare at the laughing children and I scorn my peers whom have endless free time. For the past 2/3 years, around March/April is when I start my summer work season! Oh joy. My first summer working I worked at Busch Gardens inside of the Festhaus for many long hours, providing fat people more means in which to eat food. I guess I had enjoyed being around  people and their need to consume, because the next summer I got a job at Regatta’s, one of Kingsmill Resort and Spa’s casual restaurants as a Bus Boy. “Now I get to wipe their asses too!” I would think cheerfully to myself as I would scrub away at hastily drawn tic-tac-toe markings off of tables, and pick up tossed portions of their food off of chairs.

Well this year I said, “Fuck people and their eating habits, I want a job that doesn’t involve food!” Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself I did. In actuality, nobody would even call me back for an interview. Screw you too, McDonalds. Oh, and don’t think I forgot about you either, Chick Fil A. Bastards.

So anyways, thanks to my cousin Donnie, I went on Craigslist, skeptical as I always am when I take advice from someone whose idea I should have thought of first. That’s when I saw it.

Guest Registration – Customer Service – Williamsburg KOA

No, that isn’t a real link sillies, I just wanted it to look real so I highlighted it and made the text blue. But that is what I saw, something along those lines anyway. Haha, get it.. along those lines… cause it’s underlined! Giggle…  Right, well… “Perfect!” I thought to myself happily. An inside job, in AC, dealing with people.. customer service… guest registration… job had something about answering phone calls. Sounds like a piece of cake, right? Ha, I wish I could go back in time and bitch slap myself over and over. That would’ve been a nice warning as to what this job was going to have me doing.

Williamsburg KOA is a campground here in Williamsburg, Virginia. There’s a lot of things I myself have to memorize. For example, RV types and their abbreviations:

TT – Travel Trailer, a camper that it attached to a truck via a trailer.

F – Fifth Wheel, a camper that’s attached to the bed of a pickup truck.

MH – Standard Motorhome

MT- Standard Motorhome towing a vehicle

NT – A truck that has a “popup” tent on the back. A piece of shit RV for poor people. A tent with AC, pretty much.

Than we have the type of sites those RV’s can get:

FP – Full Hookup Pull Thru Site, a site they can pull through, has 30 Amp Electricity, connection to sewage.

F – Full hookup, back in site. 30 amp, ect

DP [lol DP!] – Full hookup Pull thru site, 50 amp electricity, ect [for bigger RVs]

DF – Back in for above site.

W/E – Water Electric only. No sewer

WP- Water electric Pull thru.

Than we have non RV site types

K – One room kabins

K2 – 2 room kabins

KL – Kabin Lodge

T – Tent

TE – Tents with water and electric

Than we get all kinds of information about them such as where they live, arrival and departure date, credit card numbers, how many people. Basically a truckload of information. I know where these fucking people live. I KNOW WHERE THEY LIVE. On top of taking reservations and registering the guests when they get to the campground, I also will have to sometimes escort them to their sites on a super cool yellow golfcart, maintain and clean the store, or if my manager isn’t enjoying me doing almost everything, they make me do shit like clean public bathrooms and clean the kabins – you know, the really good ego boosting material.

That kinda stuff almost made me quit, but thankfully they knocked that shit off as soon as the summer season started to ramp up, and they actually needed me to do what they hired me to do, because all in all, it’s a very nice job when I’m doing what I have to do inside the store. Taking calls, making reservations, ringing up purchases. It is when they make me clean bathrooms and/or kabins is what makes me want to go suicidal. I get to meet all kinds of interesting people over the phone or in the store, because they come from all over the US to visit Williamsburg. I’ll give you a snippet of one of the hundreds of phone calls I’ve taken so far.

Me: We’re having a great day at the Williamsburg KOA! This is Daniel, may I take a reservation?

Lady: Well… I’m glad you are having a great day.

Me: 😀

Lady: But I’m not.

Me: D:

And then she complained about something about their electric not working on their site and how everything in their fridge was going bad. Nothing important really. I called maintenance to take care of it and I apologized and told her we’d fix it asap! Psh, customer service is a piece of cake.

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