Alaska - Week Minus One

Our Hand is Called

A better explanation escapes me. All I can tell you is that on a cold and rainy afternoon in Ponta Delgada early last November, we decided to stay in, started browsing the internet, got distracted by Alaskan National Park photos, remembered past conversations with people we’d met who’d taken summer jobs there - and poof! We found and completed online applications to work at the smallest and most remote wilderness lodge operated by Princess Cruises.

Three weeks later, back home and the fateful afternoon forgotten, I received an email from Princess acknowledging our applications and requesting phone interviews. Our names had been drawn from the hat. Tara, our interviewer (and presumably our boss) went straight to the benefits and conditions of employment. She indicated the housing was “basic” (I’m imagining modular buildings), the meals “good” (I’m thinking school cafeteria) and wifi provided (I’m guessing slow). She cautioned us that not all couples' rooms have attached baths and that getting one would be by luck of the draw. Tara promised that should we complete the entire season, we would be entitled to a complimentary cruise on any Carnival Corporation line. (Susan fantasized about a Seabourn suite. I imagined a Carnival inside cabin below the water line)

The jobs were described as customer service at the hotel’s front desk with the most likely duties sketched out as helping guests select and schedule excursions and activities, pointing guests in the right direction and resolving problems (smiling through complaints). There was a not so subtle hint that we would be called upon to help with other duties, portrayed as “adding interest to the experience”. The term "team player" was bandied about rather loosely. Tara seemed oddly ready to hire us and my hunch was that her pickings must be slim.

On Pearl Harbor Day, we had Zoom interviews with Tara and went over the adventure again. I think she just wanted to see our faces to confirm our mugs were devoid of facial tattoos. We chatted for perhaps a half hour and concluded the call agreeing that we remained all in for the experience. She indicated that her group of recruits would gather at a company hotel in Anchorage on the 8th of May for a four hour bus ride to Copper Center on the 9th. I checked out the hotel and figured it to be a warm up for the basic accommodations we would be facing at the lodge. Yet, we continued. Our hands had been called. I made plane reservations to Anchorage. We were going.

It was March before we confessed to anyone that we’d signed up for this gig, and started with friends in Mazatlán, about as far away from the scene of the crime as we could imagine. It went fairly well. We started telling others one by one. I dropped the news as an aside in a Facebook post. Some jaws dropped, a few eyes rolled, there was plenty of laughing. We saved family for last, knowing there are those among them with the power to have us committed.

There’s a pool forming (in case you want to get in) on just how long we will last. The predictions I’ve heard range from three to seven weeks. On one hand, I know we are always up for nearly any adventure, get high kicks from doing things we’ve never done and we really do like Alaska. On the other hand, our attention spans are short, we’ve never stayed in one place anything near the four months this could last and there’s a high chance Susan might suffer from serious shopping withdrawals. I’ve also reminded myself it’s been nearly 30 years since I’ve seen a W-2, acknowledged supervision from others or been told when and where to be. It’s very likely those instructions will be coming from a person yet unborn when I saw my last pay stub.

Our plane leaves Saturday. We’ll keep you posted.