Fingers Crossed

“There’s a guy working in a hotel in Park City, Utah. His only job is to greet guests, take off their ski boots, and wrap their feet with a warm towel”
“Do you think he makes good tips?”
"Yeah, he probably lives a comfortable life."

My friend planted the seed. In one instant, sitting around the kitchen table, sipping ice water and conversing about nothing in particular, perhaps my whole life direction had changed? In my head, I weighed the pros and cons of being a foot wrapper. Could I do that job? Would I be happy? It certainly would be a good job to add to my bucket list, but how long could I keep that up? I envision the party my co-workers would throw for me after my 25^th season as Head Foot Wrapper. I can almost taste the fatty bonus I would get for being such a loyal employee with such a high tolerance for the never-ending stench of my working life.

Riley West

Head Foot Wrapper and Towel Warmer

I decided against pursuing. I would probably laugh at the inappropriate sounds that boots make when they are taken off or the varying smells of people’s feet. I would make jokes about the size of people’s toes, or the color of their retro snow suits. I would simultaneously look up and down at everyone.

Nope, not the job for me.

For the past month, I’ve been looking for employment. I was open to anything; summertime gigs, adultish jobs with salaries, commission-based work. Anything, really. The search started with only the most obvious jobs: rock climbing instructor at generic huge institution, assistant guide at most famous guide service in the states, route setter at biggest climbing gym ever. The totally idealistic and unrealistic jobs that we all apply for with a single grain of salt in our mouths. It was a short-lived idea that I often revisit when time is abundant.

Then there was the idea of getting paid to be Mr. absolutely-unemployed-but-motivated-Riley. More specifically, getting paid to be a Mobile-Rock-Climbing-Riley, writing his experiences down for the world to read. What big corporation would want to pay me to go on a lifelong road trip? Ford? Patagonia? Subaru? Fox News? I could drive an electric car, invite a wonderful friend or future-lover, and travel the world preaching the word of sustainable road trips. I could make mixtapes about the road and pretend the contents of my suitcase were all I cared to own. I would leave the stability behind, because I wouldn’t need it. But alas, it would appear that I had thought of yet another unreachable idea.

Which brings us to present Riley: Jobless and out of ideas. I have resorted to looking through the lists of my friends’ friends on Facebook, hoping that I stumble upon the most wonderful pizza place/indoor mini golf course/climbing gym job. I have 15 tabs open in two different internet browsers. I turned down climbing the other day to “work on job search bullshit.” It would be convenient to say that everyone is having a difficult time finding jobs. But I like to think it’s not a normal everyone problem; it’s just a motivation problem of my own. I don’t think I’ll ever know what I want to do with my time. I always wanted to be this, and I always wanted to be that. My goals have never been simple or constant, which you would probably say is also completely normal. I can only consider so many options before I’m going to start throwing darts at a wall of cover letters. And the thing is, I’d be content with most any occupation, even wrapping rich people’s feet with warm towels.

My cup of coffee this morning was weak. You could say the fog never quite lifted from my front step today. I shoved my socked feet into my boots with a thump of familiarity, which made me smirk and think of a future I might have. A friend told me I was going crazy applying for jobs, so instead of write a cover letter to another nameless institution, I wrote this directionless blog post. I bought a bottle of wine with quarters tonight, crossed my fingers, and hoped for a conclusive end to the search. The real-ness of this too-big world has an overwhelming feeling only present when I decide being financially stable is important. Is it? The jury is out.

https://www.dropbox.com/s/ysf8oxggg52dxyl/Fingers%20Crossed.zip

Riley.