by Jan Chaffin
- Disclaimer: The views expressed are mine alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of my employers.
Chapter Eight – Stunned
Arrrrgggggg!!!!!! Maybe the campground really does hate me after all. It’s beginning to seem that way. Each day here brings its own challenges. Today’s is as puzzling to me as getting lost on an out and back single track trail.
My trainer is an experienced Aide. She allowed me to open the kiosk by myself. Surprisingly, it took more than an hour to print the day’s camping lists and slips and update the site maps and lists. I obviously can speed that up and do some steps after opening to the public, but she acknowledged the process can take that long.
All afternoon, there were no issues beyond the usual retrievals of belongings after domestic disputes and radio reports of hiker and biker injuries. There are so many injury calls that our supervisor has invited us to a mock rescue at the infamous Garden of Eden swimming hole/trouble spot off Hwy 9, which will include a helicopter landing.
Supervising Ranger Joe came by and presented me with my very own key to the kingdom. I ran the Graham Hill Trail at lunch successfully. Campers checked in at a manageable rate and all was dandy. Until my trainer left and my new shift partner and I had to manage the kiosk. Still, no big deal; I could handle cash wrap and she could attend to campers. After all, I’d successfully balanced the drawer yesterday afternoon at Day Use and was expected to manage both kiosks by myself in a few days…
But for some reason my brain just could not recall the simplest of procedures. I reprinted and repeated one form three times while cursing and asking the Aide a million questions, all of which she patiently answered. I wouldn’t blame her for thinking I’m a neurotic graceless flop. I was heading down a cold sweaty tunnel of despair grumbling about pay grades and Accounting degrees and rethinking this whole shebang to hide the growing fear I couldn’t cut this job.
Eventually, I calmed down, focused and got through it after, much like a precocious three year old, I finally realized my tantrum wouldn’t solve anything.
An after work run up to the Observation Deck helped, although I swear I passed big orange fire hoses on the trail up and took the same trail back without seeing them. Again, it seems my senses get stunned here at Campground. Maybe Campground doesn’t hate me. Maybe, instead, it’s humbling me and telling me there’s a lot I need to learn here. Or maybe it’s not really about me at all.