At 3:30 we start putting tablecloths, salt and pepper shakers, and steak sauce on the tables outside. It’s a beautiful afternoon. Some people have arrived early. Bubba is over by the smoking barbeque tending to the tri-tip. Ray is sitting on the redwood table next to Bubba having a cocktail of some sort. He smiles and waves to me as I pass by with loaded trays.
By event time we are in full swing. Billy has the juicy tri-tip sliced and ready to serve, which Helen carries out with Billy following. Billy will personally serve this to her friends and guests. The other gals will service the tables and clean up after the event. I have been told to start cleaning the kitchen, and to keep an eye on the remaining corn and beans on the stovetop. I am also to cook and serve any restaurant customers who wander in for something other than tri-tip. Vi, whom I had met when I first arrived at Hacienda, was manning the guests, groceries, and register. Billy had earlier apologized to me for the chaos of my first day, and was very glad I had come into her life at this time. She assured me that things would settle down, and to not let this scare me away. So I keep that thought in mind as I look at the unbelievable pile of dishes and large sticky vats and bowls that need to be cleaned. One of the large trays that held the cooked tri-tip is sitting by the stove with a few left over pieces screaming to be tasted. I am now hungry, so I eat one of the slices. It’s so good! Wow! My taste buds plead for more. I also eat a chunk of french bread and a slice of watermelon.
I see as I am starting the dishes, that most of the customers can not eat the entire hamburger, so I wrap up some leftovers for the dogs when I return to my trailer. I scrub for two and a half hours. I can hear behind me the opening and closing of the back door as everyone comes in and out for various reasons. I had to cook one hot dog and one grilled cheese with fries. After all, I had been cooking most of my life anyway. I’m quite happy with my first stab at being a fast-fry cook.
Bubba enters the kitchen and goes to the cold storage and comes out with a twelve pack of Bud. He looks kind of looped. He leaves with a bang of the door.
When I have completed most of the dishes, and the crowd has left the premises, Billy tells me to take a break for a half hour or so, but she also wants me back to finish the kitchen duties for the night. It has already been twelve hours since I came to work. I can’t believe I am not done yet! Everyone is allowed to take home whatever tri-tip is left, but to leave one uncut slab for tri-tip sandwiches to serve in the restaurant tomorrow. I walk back to the fifth wheel with my bag of leftovers.
Poor Bonita and Bandito, they are so confused! “Hi guys! I’m so sorry! Do you have to go potty? I’ve got a treat for you!” I had heard them barking a few times when I was hauling trays out to the tables. It wasn’t real loud since they were inside with the door shut, but I’m sure all the noise and music was confusing for them. Thank God Hacienda doesn’t have a barbeque every day.
I take them for a nice walk forgetting to put on long pants, shirt and socks. I get bit again on my ankles and on my lower arm. I feel my neck again and it is not any better. I put my tri-tip in the refrigerator, and slice up the hamburger for the dogs. I’ll bet I never have to buy food for either of us all summer. Can I really do this all summer? I will certainly try. I should be able to save money. I don’t have any expenses. I obviously get fed. If I can just stick this out then perhaps I will leave with a nice savings account and that could make it all worthwhile.
When I head back towards the kitchen, I pass the empty tables on the lawn. It is getting dark. That sheep dog is scrounging the ground for droppings of food. A short, stocky, male Indian with long hair is arguing with a plump female Indian on the dirt road between the barbeque and the rear entry to the kitchen. He is holding a six-pack of beer. She is screaming. “Who is she?! Ya dirty bastard! Who is she?!”
“Leave me alone ya dirty, ugly, bitch! I already told ya, It’s no one!” He yells right back. They are both drunk. I must pass by this scene. It’s unavoidable.
“Who are you? Are you the one?” She looks demonic as she addresses me.
“Excuse me? Are you talking to me?” I point to my chest, not sure if I am the accused.
“Are you the bitch he’s been seeing?” She tromps angrily towards me.
“Excuse me? I never met this man before in my life. I’m new here. I’m the cook. I just started today.” I’m a little nervous at this point. I keep walking toward the kitchen door. He starts walking away from her, weaving, almost falling. She turns from me and follows him, yelling at his back.
Oh no, drunk Indians! I find that extremely sad. I just finished reading a long book called Hanta Yo, meaning ‘clear the way’. So this type of scene is fresh in my mind. It’s a novel with a historical story line about the history and beautiful spirituality of a small tribe of Lakota Sioux Indians. It is a love story that continues through three generations of a family and ends in the downfall of the American Indian through trade with the white man, most of the ‘trade’ being booze. Hanta Yo is also where I got my favorite mantra that I say to myself when I am stressed and need to center myself and thoughts. The one that begins with “I own my life and only mine.”
Inside the kitchen I find Billy who is smoking a cigarette and having her evening cocktail. Ray is leaning on the meat counter with his own cocktail and cigarette. He is wearing his oxygen hose. They are chatting over the counter. “Well hello there pretty lady!” They both smile at me, so Ray’s greeting is not a threat to Billy.
“Hello Ray. I guess we’ve not been formerly introduced yet.” I reach to shake his hand. Ray gently squeezes my hand and does not release it right away. He holds it and tells me how happy he is to have me come to join the crew.
“By the way, I’ll be by some time tomorrow to get yur water pipe fixed. May need some parts, so can’t promise it’ll be ready for a spell. I’ll also get ya set up with some propane. Has anyone shown ya how to clean the grill?” he asks.
“Thanks very much, Ray. I’ll look forward to having hot running water, and no, no one has shown me how to clean the grill yet.” I look wearily at the warm slop pasted all over the flat grill.
“Okay, under the grated grill you’ll find a big black pumice stone like brick. Now what I want ya to do is take that brick and hold it with both hands. Ya press it on the grill and grind away every bit of burnt grease and make it shiny like new. If ya can do this right ya got a job for life. Ya might need some of the fresh grease poured on while yur doin’ this to make it a smoother ride across the grill. Then all the dirty grease runs down into this here trough and it flows into this hole and gets collected in a large grease trap below. Takes awhile, but has to be done every night.”
Billy and Ray watch me do this task. The grill is still very warm so I have to keep my hands and fingers from touching it. Exhaustion sets in and I just want to get in the fifth wheel.
“Okay, now the grease trap is right next to the grill. Reach down and pull that trap out and we got to empty that outside in the big barrel by the trash compactor. You’ll see it when ya get out there.” I pull the heavy dripping trap out and walk out the back door. I see the large, almost full to capacity, grease barrel. Yuck! There is a stick lying on top of the grease barrel to dig out the thick, black grease that won’t come out of the trap. The goop in the bottom of the trap has the consistency of wet clay. It plops into the large barrel, making me think momentarily of an old outhouse. Grease splashes on my very dirty apron.
When I come back into the kitchen Ray tells me that he never saw anyone clean the grill as well as I did. Billy smiles and agrees. She also told me to come in at 11:30 tomorrow for more cook training. She’d meet me at the grill. She would also give me my schedule for the week at that time. She then shows me where the mop and chemicals were to mop the floor, gives me a hug, and tells me to get some rest after I finish. I was to lock the back door and exit out the front entry. Billy and Ray walk back to their own space.
By 9:30 I’ve turned out the kitchen lights and locked the back door. I go to clock out. I h
ave worked for fourteen and a half hours. Outside it is pitch black. I can see giant flames lighting up the entire area by Bubba’s trailer. I also can hear his much too loud country music. It isn’t hard to see that Bubba believes in a fire as big as he is. It makes me wonder what the guests are thinking about the music and flames. I hope he keeps that fire under control!
I walk the dogs and then get out of my dirty cooking clothes. My wrists ache from all the chopping, lifting of dishes, and grill grinding. I will have time in the morning to relax, walk the dogs, and shower. I apply tea tree oil on all my old and new mosquito bites and fall fast asleep.
Chapter Four
The dogs wake me at sunrise when they hear someone walk by the trailer. I peek out the window next to my bed and see Bubba walking with coffee in hand to work. I have to be careful to remember that I cannot sit straight up in bed. This is the hitch end of the fifth wheel, and my bed is only two and a half feet from the ceiling. The ducks are quacking and headed along the shoreline running parallel with Bubba. I’m glad I’m awake early, so I can settle in a bit more before I go to work.
I take the dogs out for their quick and urgent need for relief, promising them a much longer walk later. On my way back into the trailer, I open up the valve to empty the holding tank one more time. As I do this, I look under my trailer at the dry pleated hose and see several small leaks puddle up the gravel beneath my trailer. I’ll have Ray look at that when he comes to work on the pipes. I shut off the valve and get the hose to fill it up again.
While the tank is refilling, I drink my coffee outside on the picnic bench and let the dogs see the world from our surrounded fence area. The park looks quite full of RVs and a few people are wandering around fishing. A man straight across the lake is showing his small child how to cast his bobber into the water. I can hear them chatting softly about fishing. Sound travels in the quiet of the forest, except when cars or diesels pass on the highway. The back door to the kitchen bangs open.
“GET THAT DAMN BOBBER OUT OF MY LAKE! CAN’T YA READ? FLY FISHING ONLY!” Bubba stomps towards them raising the dust on the road. He spits to the side as he charges over to confront them. The man and child are frozen in place watching Bubba approach.
Bubba’s voice echoes all across the area. Some guests come out of their trailers to see what is going on. Bubba reaches the frightened father and child. He grabs the fishing pole out of the child’s hand and reels it in. “NO BOBBERS! IT SAID SO IN YUR FISHING RULES PACKET WE GAVE YA WHEN YA REGISTERED! I’M TIRED OF PULLING BOBBERS OUT OF THE WEEDS WHEN YA RULE BREAKERS LEAVE! FLY FISHING ONLY!”
I do not hear the man reply to Bubba. I only see him take his child by the hand and head back to his truck and trailer; both were parked twenty feet away from where they were fishing. I now notice the long pigtails coming out of the back of the baseball cap and realize it is a little girl. Bubba stalks off back to the kitchen. What a complete asshole! His lake? His Teflon pans? Bubba is just another employee. What the hell is his problem anyway? The little girl may never want to fish again for fear of making mistakes.
The man begins hooking his RV back onto his truck where the little girl sits waiting with her head looking down towards her feet in the passenger seat. She removes her baseball cap and throws it out the window of the truck. They leave within ten short minutes, driving a little too fast out of the park. If I had a nice nest egg sitting in a bank somewhere, and if I had half an ounce of sense, I’d be doing the same thing. I walk over to the empty space and pick up the cap which reads, ‘Hacienda RV Park’. It has a trout embroidered above that. I throw it in the trash.
I take the dogs inside the fifth wheel just in time to find the toilet tank about to overflow. I run to turn off the hose, eat a bowl of instant oatmeal, gather my shampoo, tea tree oil, towel, a small amount of toilet paper (just in case) and clothes for the day. I decide to walk to the showers today. As I pass the kitchen, Bubba exits and seems surprised to see me. He is wearing a scowl on his face and one side of his cheek is puffed out. He spits out a stream of tar. Oh I get it. He chews tobacco!
“Good morning Bubba.” You child abuser.
“MORNIN!”
I pursue a conversation. “That tri-tip was excellent!”
“I SERVE UP THE BEST IN THE COUNTY!” Gawd. It’s his tri-tip too!
Running and quacking ducks heading in our direction disrupts any further conversation. This does not disappoint me in any way.
“GOTTA FEED MY DUCKS!” Of course they’re his ducks. Who else could they belong too?
“Well, I’ll see you later Bubba. I’m going to take a shower. Billy said to come in at 11:30 for training. So, have a nice day.” Asshole.
Bubba is too involved with the ducks to say good-bye, but I am close enough to notice where Bubba is getting the feed. It’s from a bag of dog food! These ducks have been raised on Billy’s dog food! I suppose that’s nutritious enough. The ducks look healthy anyway.
When I enter the showers, I hear two ladies conversing. They are washing their hands and complaining about the flies and mosquitoes. They agree to never come back to this park again and will talk to management about the lack of toilet paper. Thank goodness I brought my own. As I pass the toilet stalls I can see that one of the toilets is overflowing with poo and toilet paper, I gag in disgust.
The ladies have left and I am enjoying a good long hot shower. I am thankful that the showers are roomy and the water is hot. I dry my hair, which is now shorter than I’ve had it in years. It’s so much easier than all those years when it was shoulder length. I guess we must all submit to the aging process at some point. I had cut it in Ashland when I was the head of housekeeping at a bed and breakfast inn. Too bad the owner was such a creep! I’ll bet he misses me now. I was the only one who took pride in all the rooms. I had trained over twenty-five new maids who came and went. Most of them could not deal with the owner so they went off to greener pastures. I warned him I’d leave! He didn’t believe me. Too bad Norman! You lose! If things go awry here I’ll just pack up after I make enough money and split.
After drying my hair, I walk around to the front entry of the building. Vi is working the front register. There are several customers shopping and eating inside. Betty is zooming all around the place.
“Hi Vi.”
“Good morning Denise. How was your first day?”
“It was very long, but I survived. Thanks for asking. Listen. Could you tell Billy that a toilet is overflowing in the restrooms, and that there is no toilet paper?”
“Oh Lord! Not again. Thanks. We’ll have to send Bubba over there right away. Billy can watch the grill while he fixes that. Let’s see, I don’t know if Ruby is scheduled to come in today or not. Oh, I forgot, Little John is here today. He’s up working on the motor of the pie cooler. He needs to get that fixed in the next hour, since Ginger is bringing in her week’s supply of homemade pies. He can get on that new problem as soon as he finishes up with that. We’ll take care of it. Thanks again. Oh, and Denise, I’m glad you’re here to help Billy out with the cooking. She sure needs a break.”
“Thanks Vi. I’ll be in at 11:30. See you then.” I sure like Vi. She seems educated, polite, and obviously takes pride in her job. She is also in her fifties. It makes me wonder why Helen, Karen, Betty, Vi, Geneva, Ginger, and myself have found ourselves working together in our later years at a remote RV park when we should be working in gardens and rocking grandbabies in our arms, or even finally fulfilling our life dreams, whatever that could be.
Walking back to my trailer, I realize that I had not heard the golf cart yet this morning. Maybe Terry is sleeping in. I see Ray leaning on the hood of his truck over by the propane tank drinking a cup of coffee. He is smoking and does not have his oxygen hose on.
“Good morning pretty lady,” he says with a nice smile.
“Well, good morning to you too, Ray.” Ray really does seem like a nice man. He’s actually still quite handsome for his age. He’s tall and well built, except for the beer be
lly. I can’t tell if he is flirtatious or likes to be a father figure. I know I look slightly younger than I am, and most people are surprised when I tell them I am fifty-one. If I don’t look in a mirror, I am not aware of my age either. I’m sure all the daily walks with Bonita and Bandito have helped to keep me fit, not to mention being a housekeeper for a year.
“So, can I come on over and take a look at yur pipes?” I don’t know if he is making a sexual remark or not. Maybe it was just me thinking that.
“That would be great Ray. I need you to look at a couple of other things while you’re there too.” Oops! Was I really playing along?
“Let’s get going then.” Ray walks very slowly. I guess to conserve his oxygen, or his energy for looking at my ‘pipes’. I can hear him taking deep breaths.
“Boy, what’s with the front door?” Ray examines my duct tape job.
“Well, I had to tape it all together because pieces were falling off. I’m sorry it looks so ugly, but I did the best I could to make it work for now.”
The dogs hear us and are barking inside.
“I’ll have to measure that and order a new door for ya. I’ll do that later. Let’s see what’s going on inside with the pipes.” We work the door open.
“So these are yur little babies, huh?”
“Yes, they sure are. This black one is Bandito, and the brown one is Bonita.”
“Welcome little guys! Ya could let them loose out here. They’d be fine. All the animals that live here are free to roam.” I look towards the ducks.
GRILL! Page 6