I Feel So Broke Up, I Wanna Go Home

"The others, the youngsters who make up the majority, are different. Theirs is a simple motivation: a bit of work and a lot of partying - they hope. In truth it's the other way round, and often they get disenchanted when they discover that a bar owner does actually want you to turn up on time, look as though you have not been out till six in the morning and to work eight hours or more. And once they have hired you, they don't want you walking out or feigning "the sick"." (5 March 2008, Keep On Moving.)

The above has not lost its relevance over the months of the season. Primarily it is the youngsters, but not exclusively. The turnover of staff during the season is a problem that afflicts many an establishment. Some staff have to be dismissed; other staff just walk out or hand in their notice. For various reasons, they can't hack it: a boyfriend or girlfriend issue; hours are too long; it's not what they thought it would be; they're too regularly hungover; family. Any number of reasons.

Superficially, it all looks so attractive. A summer in the sun, a load of laughs and a bit of work to finance them. The reality is often rather different. Some pack it in very quickly; others stagger on until finally they've had enough. Some are just not equipped to be away from home for so long, but have been seduced by the apparent romance of the summer in the sun of Mallorca. I recall once being in the Club del Sol near Puerto Pollensa. A girl, a member of the entertainment team, was pouring it all out to a sympathetic receptionist. She was sobbing and complaining about the hours and how she had never been told what to expect. Maybe she hadn't been, but maybe she was also a bit naïve. The other day, apparently, three reps from a hotel in Alcúdia just left without saying anything. Perhaps they hadn't been told what to expect. About the long hours, about the complaining tourists. There is perhaps some sympathy for the kids who come as reps. They are generally ill-informed, but as they are the main point of contact for the tourist they are the ones who bear the brunt of problems or questions. And because they are ill-informed, they go on making the same sort of errors. It's a small example, but a few days ago a rep, from the hotel in question, directed a guest to the bus stop for Palma. It was on the wrong side of the road; there is no bus to Palma in that direction. How many people had previously stood there in a vain wait for a bus that didn't exist?

The pay is not great, be it for bar staff, reps, entertainers. There can be the perks, in some instances, such as accommodation paid for, but the money is not huge. And at some point, the routine, the sometimes sweaty and cramped conditions, the hours or the endless babble of tourists causes a breaking-point. Not in all cases, far from it of course. I think, for example, of a group of Dutch kids who were the entertainers at the Red Lion a few years back. They kept their enthusiasm and vitality up till the bitter end. And most do, but not all.

Perhaps it just comes down to character: character that enables the appreciation that the job comes first; that can cope with being away from home for a long period and maybe also for the first time; that can repress the temptations of which there are many, some of which can age even the most bright-eyed over the course of a season.

The seasoned of the seasonal workers are different. They are the pros. The ones who have seen it all before and have probably been there before and got the t-shirt. These are the workers who come back, often to the same establishment, year after year, because they are reliable and because they know it is work rather than play that their employer demands. And those poor employers who have to go through the bureaucratic rigmarole and the expense attached to it, only to then find themselves in the lurch. The employers who can also be presented with the member of staff who goes on the sick and may then return with a fine tan or be seen dancing on a table, having partaken of many a cold drink. How is it that quite so many seem to get sick here? Ok, the employers may not pay huge wages, but then no one does, and it is, after all, they who take the risk of the business in the first place, who face the raft of regulations, who might cop it from the likes of the noise police*.

But come next year and there will be a new bunch of kids hoping for the same adventure. Doubtless I will be contacted by a few seeking advice, as I have been before. And you just hope that they come with their eyes wide open and that those eyes stay wide open, rather than become dulled by lack of sleep and what the island has to offer, which isn't perhaps quite how the tourist understands it.

* I understand that the Jolly Roger in Puerto Alcúdia, just a couple of minutes past the midnight curfew, were dobbed on to the noise police the other day. Result: a fine.


QUIZ
Yesterday's title - well, I reckoned this was pretty obscure, but, damn me, up popped John with the right answer; it was The Bonzo Dog Band, "Shirt". Today's title - one from those normally associated with summer fun.

(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)