I am so grateful to be around so many different people here at Olympic. I have met people from all walks of life, from many different countries, with many different backgrounds. All of them have fascinating stories. I have changed the names, but the stories are true, to the best of my memory.
Tom is in his 40s and has done seasonal work for quite a while. He worked in IT before starting seasonal jobs, and even after has had the opportunity to do IT work at places like Glacier. He likes NetBSD, competition in business, and reading as many books as he can. He is happy to talk to you about a variety of topics and is knowledgeable on a great many things.
Jake is 20 years old, from Illinois. He attended one semester of college, and since then has been living partially out of his van. He took a six month (I think; he’ll correct me if necessary) road trip before ending up in Olympic, spending time all over the United States. That’s a guy who has it made. He told me he wants to make a lot of money so he could have time to learn to cook. I told him he’s already living the life most people dream of; he’ll be able to find time to cook.
Jen is here to finish up her degree in hospitality. She will be working at the front desk with me, and needs 430 hours of work before August 6. Luckily, she should be just over the threshold by that date. She’s worked at Disney World in the past, but likes it a lot better here. She has a lot of family at Olympic this summer: her brother (my roommate), her cousin, her second cousin (and his girlfriend), and her other second cousin are all working here, too. Plus her aunt is the GM of the place where some of us work. It’s a family affair!
Esteban, 24, is from Colombia. He came to Olympic for a variety of reasons, but the two he emphasized were his desire to improve his English and the fact that this job paid more than the other summer jobs he was offered. It’s his first time leaving Colombia. He tells me he is a supporter of capitalism because he has seen what has happened in Venezuela, and doesn’t want it to happen anywhere else (Colombia border Venezuela).
I think I will do posts like this periodically. It is important that stories get told, no matter how mundane they might appear to be. I’ll always change the names, but I’d like to keep these as a brief record of the people I encounter here.