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Take this job and shove it


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Take this job and shove it

A pow-day poem

By John Minier  |  Photo by Justin Kious

Alarm cuts loose at 6 a.m.
It must be time to get up again
Wondering what the weather is doing –
Newsman said a storm was brewing

What to wear, I can’t decide
I guess I’ll have a look outside
Holy smokes, there’s so much snow!
And off to work I have to go

Down a bowl of Honey Scooters
Throw on a shirt I won at Hooters
Load the tools up in the truck
Another day, another buck

But hold a moment, what’s that I see…
Groups of skiers filled with glee
Smiles and laughter all around
Shouldered skis and poles abound

I contemplate the sick day option
One that I must use with caution
What I really want to say is, “Please!
Please won’t you let me ski the trees?”

But deep inside I realize
That this job I now despise
Is the only way I can afford this
Wretched sum that is my mortgage

And so I heave a heavy sigh
And give a friendly wave goodbye
To a skier with a happy face
Who’s off to find his happy place

Climb on in and start the truck
And maybe with a little luck
I’ll cut out early, but who am I kidding?
Today I’ll do the boss’s bidding

But with thoughts of powder so seductive
Today will be quite unproductive.

My boss on site is quite irate
Just because I am a little late
I tell him that the roads are slick
He just says, “Hop to it, quick!”

I guess this guy can’t comprehend
That on days like this I’d rather spend
My time out skinning through the hills
Seeking soft and fluffy thrills

He barks to me about some job
And I just give a little nod
And dive into his tedious task
I wish I had the guts to ask

Say to him, “Hey, look here dude
I truly intend to not be rude,
But why don’t we just screw this place
And set upon a powder chase.”

Instead I start upon some chore
I’m sure it’s one that I’ll abhor
Like frame this wall or lay this floor
Take out the trash and hang this door
(And what the hell are these parts for?)

All the guys at work are flaunting
Brand new plows and how they’re wanting
To head on home and plow all day
And how they’ll plow the pow’ away

I guess to them the snow is trouble
For they don’t ski, they only shovel.

The slog to five is long and hard
But finally I punch that card
Pick up my stuff and hit the door
And wonder if there’s something more

An existence where I’m free to strive
To break away from 8 to 5
One in which I truly choose
Which sick days I will abuse

I want to live with those who play
And value every powder day
And work with those who understand
That skiing is part of who I am

So I missed another day
As much as I am sad to say
This kind of crap can be a bummer
If this is life, just give me summer

However I’m not filled with sorrow
For I will simply ski tomorrow.

The author, John Minier, penned this poem while working as a tradesman in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. Today, John is the owner of Mt. Baker Mountain Guides in Bellingham. Dreams do come true. X