This week has been one of the hardest since I started working in the business. A local monument is closing for the season, so a LOT of people are visiting on their National Park Passport — like a stamp book where you collect stamps of certain Parks, Monuments, and cities.

These aren’t our normal customer base, as we usually work with snowmobilers, skiers, and dogsledders. I’ve been screamed at for things constantly, called slurs daily, and even had a guest throw a towel soaked in urine at me.

A guest called and screamed at us for closing for the season. After twenty minutes, my boss grabbed the phone.

Boss: “I’m sure my employees who are being laid off for four weeks are very sympathetic about your inconvenienced vacation plans. Get over it!”

A guest stood at the front desk telling us that in [State], they don’t close the hot tubs for cleaning, they just treat the water… and on, and on, and on. My manager had enough with her too.

Boss: “We do apologize for your inconvenience; the people from [State] keep bathing in the hot tubs so we have to drain them.”

It’s been brutal, but it is nice that my boss has my back.

I work in Yosemite and we’re doing construction on the trail to Yosemite Falls. Later in the summer, the Yosemite Falls dry up and I overhear a tourist ask an employee in the uniform.

Tourist: “Will they turn the falls back on as soon as they finish construction?”

(I clean washroom buildings in a campground. While cleaning the buildings, we put out signs so people don’t come in while we’re cleaning. The signs stand upright on the ground; they’re about half as wide as the doorway and about waist-height. The text of these signs, verbatim, reads, “This bathroom is closed for cleaning. Sorry for the inconvenience,” which then repeats in French. One day, I’m cleaning one such building when a pair of women approaches the door, and I overhear this:)

Woman #1: “See, here’s a washroom.”

Woman #2: “Mom, this one’s closed. Look at the sign.”

Woman #1: “No, that doesn’t literally mean it’s closed.”

([Woman #1] steps around the sign and opens the door. I’m standing right in the middle of the half-soaking-wet floor with a mop and bucket.)

Woman #1: *seeing me* “Oh, is this bathroom closed?”

Me: “Yes, it is. I’m almost done; it should be just a few more minutes.”

Woman #2: *as they both leave* “I told you, Mom!”

Woman #1: “Well, how was I supposed to know?”

(Did she think the sign was a piece of performance art or something?)

(I work for a small business that does horse trails through an area of public forest that is technically “Crown Land” — i.e. belongs to the Queen by default — and has some conservation rules. We have been having difficulty with a man owning a neighbouring property who wants to use the crown land as his own. He has gone as far as shooting at our rides from a distance, and police have been involved several times at this stage. After a long day of work, in which we dismantled some obstacles he left on the land, he pulls up at our worksite to yell out of his car. It is just me, a teenage girl, and my boss, a short, middle-aged lady.)

Neighbour: “You cut my fences!”

Boss: “No, we haven’t. We don’t go on your property.”

Neighbour: “You cut the fence by the river!”

Boss: “The river isn’t on your land. It’s crown land. It’s illegal to fence off public land for your own use.”

Neighbour: *now shouting* “I own up to the river edge—“

Boss: “No, you don’t. Your property line is 30m from the river.”

Neighbour: “I have permission from the owner to use it!”

Boss: “No, you don’t. Crown land has no owner.”

Me: *mostly to myself* “Well, it does have an owner.”

Boss: “What?”

Me: “The Queen?”

Boss: “Oh, my God.” *to the neighbour* “Are you trying to say the Queen was like, ‘Oh, sure, no problem’? How dumb are you?” *loudly, to me* “Hang on while I call the police.”

(The neighbour left immediately. We continued to destroy every fence he built illegally to block our rides.)

(I am working as a park ranger in a state park when one day another new ranger and I are tasked with cleaning up a section of a river. A great deal of trash has washed down the river and has collected on the banks. We are sent down with a truck and trash bags to clean everything up. About an hour into the project, my coworker starts loudly sighing and moving at a snail’s pace.)

Coworker: “Is this good?”

Me: “Huh?”

Coworker: “Is this good enough? Can we stop?”

(I look around. There is still a great deal of trash around us. This is a popular hiking area and the public is often in this area. Things still look awful.)

Me: “Uh, no. We can’t stop until all the trash in the water is picked up.”

Coworker: “But won’t it just get washed down?”

Me: “What? What do you mean?”

Coworker: “If we leave it, won’t it just get washed away? What’s the point of picking it up?”

(I am shocked by what this park ranger has just said.)

Me: “God, no! If this washes down, it will spread to other parts of the river and eventually get into the bay! Why would that be a good idea?”

Coworker: “Then it wouldn’t be our problem!”

(I have no idea how this person got hired with ideas like that floating around in their head.)