The Tree House...

I’m going to tell you all tonight about the one good thing that I’ve taken from the abusive hellhole I call a job. The people I work with. Granted, there are a few exceptions (many, as a matter of fact) but for the most part I work with plenty of decent hard working people. That’s the great thing about having worked at one place for so long, you get to know everyone and everyone gets to know you. Over the years, we’ve all had our fun together. From the smoke outs on the ninth hole after the day is done or the infamous summer of 2008 (some serious shit happened, we were all really drunk), we’ve had tons of good times over the years. Beyond the circle that is mostly represented on this blog, I have another group of people that I would do anything for and I know that they’d always get me back because that is the mark of true friendship. This is my tribute to them.

In particular, my buddy JS (aka, Jimbo). When I started out five years ago, JS was a long time bus boy that was working his way up to server and he was the one who showed me the ropes on my first day. Sure enough, he got his promotion and I continued on for about two years as a busser where I earned a reputation for working my ass off and helping everyone out, regardless of their department. JS was like the older brother I never had (he’s actually the same age as my real older brother) and it wasn’t unusual if I found myself coming to JS seeking advice or guidance. If there’s anything I’ll take away from knowing Jimbo, it’s how to be the fucking man. He’s an honest straight shooter who works his ass off to help support his family (kind of a sad story) all the while enjoying the simple pleasures of life with his buddies (much like I do). Though, my friends all went away to college and I was left with a really big void to fill for most of each year (many mistakes were made, I can’t help it).

This leads us to the summer of 2008, where the level of staff debauchery hit an all time high (and low). At the time (being “the kid” and all) I wasn’t really spending a whole lot of time with the people I worked with until one night at work when JS asked me if I wanted to hang out with his friends in his tree house. Hell, it was something to do and better than I’d been doing at the time (fucking Brookdale). So I went over to JS’s place and gave him a call when I arrived. He told me to walk around the back of the house and to head straight out into the woods but to look for a small foot bridge before the tree line. A bridge? You know when you have to cross a bridge to get somewhere that it’s going to be a good time. I found the bridge, which crosses over a tiny creek, and walked into the trees while following the dim glow of a fluorescent light hanging in the darkened tree tops ahead of me. Eventually, I heard voices as I came to a clearing in the woods and stared up at the tree house.

Honestly, it’s not much of a “house.” More like a big board of wood wedged between four evenly spaced trees with a couple of ropes around it to keep people from falling off the side. It’s basically a boxing ring suspended twenty feet in the air. There used to be a fireman’s pole that could quickly take you to ground level but that broke on JS and he fell twenty feet to the ground. Surprisingly, he got up completely uninjured. Anyway, to get up there you have to climb a twenty foot ladder which creaks precariously with each step. Regardless, once you got to the top nothing but good times were had by all. Jimbo’s high school friends and a good majority of the staff from work would be crammed into this tiny tree house just getting hammered and making some stupidly funny memories.

Like when the pulley-system carrying a cooler of beer failed and the whole thing dropped about fifteen feet to the ground or when JS’s friend through a beer into the woods and hit his ex-girlfriend in the leg with an empty beer bottle some thirty feet away (at night). Or maybe even the time we had to hide some “stuff” because his dad was coming out to have a beer and hang out with us, only for him to pull out a guitar and play some Leslie West songs. We had a streak going where we had hung out in the tree house twelve nights in a row and on night thirteen (of all fucking numbers) one of our co-workers (who were driving JS back from the bar) got pulled over and got a D.U.I. Meanwhile, I was alone in the tree house waiting for them to show up when I finally got “the” call (it’s a scary call to get). Or maybe even the time that C and J dominated the table in beer pong underneath the three house. It was never a dull moment.

Now, there’s a fire pit below the tree house and it makes a great trade off during the winter time. Again, stupidity ensued when we poured an entire can of lighter fluid and threw some straight up gasoline on top for good measure (from what I recall, we didn’t have a lot of wood to burn) and yours truly set the entire pit ablaze. I tossed a match at what I believed was a safe distance but the whole pit literally exploded (like, went BANG) and to this day I’m still surprised that I wasn’t engulfed in fire (and that I still have eyebrows). That reminds me of when someone dropped a full beer into the pit (which was hotter than hell) and we decided to leave it there. Anyway, our old floor manager shows up and sits right where the bottle had fallen. All of a sudden, a fountain of boiling hot Miller Lite shoots out from the flames and all over her leg! Luckily, she was wearing long pants so she didn’t get burned that badly and afterwards she was able to laugh about it (again, we were all really drunk).

The bottom line is, these memories are another reminder that I’ve met some great people over the years. Beyond my buddy JS, there’s a small close knit circle of people there that I’ve known since the beginning. They trust me and I trust them. Some people there are really shitty, on the other hand, and they’ll try to fuck other people over or blame someone else for their wrong doings because they have no sense of responsibility. No honor. It’s because of this kind of behavior that we’re doing so poorly as well. Besides a lot of other contributing factors, now we can’t even get along? Grow up fuckers (seriously, I work around adults for the most part). It’s the younger employees like myself, Jimbo, Surfer Tom, Dave-O, Kaytizzle that have really kept the place on a somewhat stable pair of legs (until we drink together). The rest is filled with nothing but backstabbers and phonies (go figure, it’s a country club). Same goes for management (which is sad) and it especially sucks because they’re the only ones with guaranteed jobs after this shit closes down in a few months.

So now it’s pretty much game over and the one thing I’m really hoping for is that we all remain in touch. I don’t expect to see them every day (we’ve already done five years of that) but at least a few times a month. I might have to talk to JS and try to instigate a few more tree house parties before the year is over. I might show up with a few more guests than last time! It’s all good when you’re chilling in a boxing ring suspended in the treetops! Going to the bathroom is a bitch, though. You have to go on the other side of the ropes and then there really isn’t a whole lot of floor left (plus you run the risk of losing your seat). So far, no one has even fallen out of the tree house and we intend to keep it that way!

I write a lot of really long posts, sorry for taking up so much of your time!

Till next time, let us rock in peace

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