“The entitled will throw a snide remark or put their finger in your chest for something so far out of your hands, like snow conditions, that you want to blow a fuse." Illustration by Ryan Dee.
Often colorful, funky, and happy, sometimes strange, weird, and smelly; man, you’ve just got to love lifites. Uniquely positioned on the frontline of guest service, lift operators give ski resorts their distinctive flavor. They’re not trying to get your dollar, but they are trying to sell a smile in the five seconds it takes a chair to swing around and scoop you up. Though their ski bum cheer may suggest otherwise, the life of a lift op is not all tie-dyed reggae vibes and laid back high-fives. Here’s how lifties navigate the realities of ski town livin’.
Dealing With The Uber Rich And Entitled
“The entitled crowd will stand out like a sore toe in flip-flops, you can find them right away. The entitled will throw a snide remark or put their finger in your chest for something so far out of your hands, like snow conditions, that you want to blow a fuse. But you’ve just got to maintain the happy vibes. There will be 1,000 more guests to greet that day that are stoked to ski. Plus, as a liftie, you are hands down skiing way more than the guests, especially the snooty ones, ever will. That’s rad.”
- Frank from Colorado
“It’s pretty simple, considering most of them are completely out of their city element. They usually ask a bunch of questions or one really stupid one. Does this chairlift go to the very top of the mountain? Yes, it sure does. Can I just ride this lift up and come back down? Yes, you just need to get off at the top. Do all these chairs go to the same place? Yes, except for that one, never get on that one. You can say yes to just about everything they ask. You keep them happy and tell them what they want to hear. It doesn't matter if you send them down a green run when you told them it was a blue. They just want to ski. Just never send an out-of-towner to a secret pow stash. That’s not for them.”
- Carl from Wyoming
Dealing With Crusty Locals
“No one is born with crust. It’s developed over time. Lifties keep it real on the mountain, for the most part. I’ve been here nine years and I’m a little crusty, but it’s more like the crust on granny’s homemade pecan pie. It’s delicate and sweet, and separates the good shit from sticking to the pan. I work twelve-hour shifts, 5 or 6 days a week, man. The least these locals could do is say hello or thanks or nod, something. Being a liftie means manual labor and customer service. We’re not out here asking for tips. If they’re crusty, then I’m crusty. If not, then we’re cool.”
- Donny from Utah
“Crusty locals can be really difficult to interact with. You see them every day on the hill and, just when you think you’re done with them, they pop up at the market or the bar. It can be taxing, constantly feigning interest and forcing politeness. Most of them just want to talk about how good everything used to be. It’s really enlightening conversation. For the most part, though, you nod your head and smile or say ‘Sick, man. That must have been fun.’ Literally, so many locals say the skiing used to be a lot better fifteen years ago. Oh, crusty locals. They’re kind of the best…and the worst.”
-Susan from Colorado
Compensation And Housing
“It’s tough. I’ve lived in the back of a pickup truck. And I’ve had some great friendships go down the crapper because we decided to save cash by splitting a bedroom. I’m currently living in what looks like the remains of the Mayflower sinking into the woods of Colorado. But how I live is of higher importance than where I live, meaning I choose the lifestyle over posh digs. Lifties around here have lived in everything from lavish second homes, to station wagons, to teepees, or commuted close to two hours each way for five days a week. Compensation in Lift Ops does not often lead to ski in/ski out home ownership… but that doesn’t mean you have to live like a bum.”
- Beatrice from Colorado
“Sometimes I wonder why we do it. I’ve got to work three jobs and it feels like I move every six months. The resort has battled to keep employees. You can bartend or wait tables and make more then you would bumping chairs. The price of living in town, or even near to town, has skyrocketed. The ski bum houses that use to be here don't exist anymore. It’s bit of a catch 22, we need the rich folks spending money here and they need us to do everything for them. I don’t know why I do it. I just love it all, I guess.”
- Garth from Colorado
"Office" Romance
“I don’t partake but it’s pretty entertaining to watch. I feel like the first year in a ski town is just an extension of college. The shenanigans that unfold with a bunch of twenty-somethings still carrying on like it’s their senior year is pretty hilarious. The best is watching the awkward behavior around the coffee pot in the morning or seeing “The Lift Ride Of Shame,” riding up from the opposite side of the mountain, still in clothes from the day prior. Hmmm, I wonder what you got into last night?”
- Jane from Wyoming
Ballin' On A Budget
“It’s easy. Step one: redefine “ballin’” to an achievable goal. Step two: plan your season around every weekly deal that every restaurant in town offers.Step three: volunteer. I have been a mentor, master gardener and farmer, model, security guard, MC, bar back, and waste management technician (garbage man). The perks range from getting into rad events for free, receiving free food and beer, and building the asset of a local network. You get to see some really great work being done in your community, and you might just find yourself ballin’ with those uber rich entitled folk and finding out they are not so bad…or, in some cases, maybe worse.”
- Jarvis from Utah
“A budget can change drastically depending on the priorities in your life at that time. For me, money isn't everything, happiness is. Sometimes you see the rich folks sucked into their phones and screaming about this or that. I don't want to be one of those people. I’ve got enough money for cold PBR and I’ve got my skis. That’s enough for me. I can’t put a monetary value on the things I really love, like sitting at my shack before we open, sipping a hot cup of coffee as the sun comes up. A simple thing like that makes me wonder why would I ever work a 9 to 5. I love this gig. Once a liftie, always a liftie.”
- Theodore from Colorado
frank booosh
December 10th, 2016
If you’re trying to ski, get a night lifty job. It’s hard to ski bum when you work the day shift. You know, ‘cause you’re not skiing; You’re just a bum swinging chairs at that point. If your ski area doesn’t operate at night, then ya gotta get that restaurant gig.. And I gotta say, I love denying access to the chair when the rich snobs get a little too rude. It makes their blood boil when a low-paid ski bum puts them in check.
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February 6th, 2017
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