Big White is AWESOME! Working here.

Okay, this is 'working here' version 2.31. I was gonna write a fresh new, pretty, bells and whistles blog... but... I didn't. Ha!

Working at Biggie - Woohoo!

Good Times!!!

First of all let me say (lots of) money is not everything, in fact in the big scheme of things money is not that important - some of the happiest people I know, the people who travel the most - went bankrupt, sounds bad, but it was liberating for them. Anyway, not earning lots of money is good because at Big White you will gain something far more valuable than the money you don't make - an experience of a lifetime. 

And (being philosophical here) life is nothing more than a series of joined experiences. You want to make money? Stay home, work in the mines, make a bunch of doh, get married, have kids, work 60+ hours per week, retire and then kick the bucket - Fun! Not. If you want to do something to remember the rest of your life, travel - come be a snowboard instructor, or bar tender, or whatever at Big White - have a rich and rewarding experience. And of course meet lots of people - this is giant hand Brad below - a sparky... find out more about Brad here, he is for sale.


What can I earn?Remember it is a 5-6 month resort. Businesses have to cover 12 months of fixed costs over a short period - rent, property tax, utilities (marginal), strata fees, their own salaries... They, like you, are not doing it to be rich, but (like you) for the lifestyle. And the lifestyle at Big White is pretty AWESOME!


I would budget somewhere between $1200 - $1600 per month in your pocket after taxes. More hours equals less snow time. But... be reliable. Hungover... tired... can't be bothered working today... my hair is a mess... forgot to put my make-up on... OMG where am I, and who are you...? Are not valid excuses. A foot of powder...? Yes, okay, that's a valid excuse.

Off on a tangent here-
I worked/bummed around a ski resort resort in my mid 20's - Chatel, in the French Alps - just on the Swiss border. Loved it! I worked in bars, kitchen's, chalets. The biggest hurdle for me then was the language - the French just refused to speak English. And my French was as advanced as my Latvian. Coming from the industrial North of England, languages were not popular - some even argue we don't even speak English. Which could be true-

Minimum wages - come work for us...

Here are a couple of common Wigan phrases. Some need double translation (see the parenthesis)

• Izziterzerizziteez - Is is her's or is it his.
• Ah wur fair clemm't - I was very hungry.
• Gerreminagen! - Get them in again (as in round of beer).
• Ee's peed aw is munny up waw - He has pissed all of his money up the wall (Spent all his money on beer)
• Sawreetferthee - It is okay for you.
• Izyedzawshapes - His head is all shapes.
• Avaddabuttifermitay - I have had a butty (sandwich) for my tea (dinner).
• Weeaffertguffertbuzz - We have (are off) to go for the bus.
• Astbinmenbin? - Have the bin men (trash collectors) been?
• Art brekkin um in fer an 'orse? - (this is trash talk to someone with big teeth) Are you breaking them in for a horse?
• Willy Eckerslike - Will he heckers like. (this is difficult, it means - he will not do that)
• Eezgoowinwom - He is going home.
• Eenose nowt abartit - he knows nothing about it.
• Geeuzakisswillta? - Give us a kiss will you?
• Art cooertin - Are you courting? (Are you dating anyone)
• Stop bluddy Maudderin - Stop Bloody Crying. (popular with my dad (RIP) after he cracked me one - spanked me)
• Stop maudderin yer bruvver - Stop bothering your brother (often followed by a crack and a Stop bluddy maudderin)

As you can see Wiganese eliminates numerous letters (H) and profusely uses others (Z).

Back to Biggie.
Of course it does not have much to do with working at Big White... but out of the jobs I did in France with my limited French and English working the bar was my favourite, being a 'Plunger' (use a French accent) was by far the most demanding - I would run around that kitchen barely breathing 9am - 6pm none stop.

So if you are looking for work at a ski resort... don't go to Chatel to be a Plunger.

However, if you are coming to Big White - 

Man, I wish I could get rich so I could have a vacation here.

• Bars and restaurants pay minimum (or close to)... but the tips are usually very good (being blonde, beautiful, blue eyed - helps, er... you know I mean female here). Be prepared to work late and suffer drunken Aussies, Brits, Canadians etc etc.
• Big White Housekeeping - steady hours, minimum wage, ski pass. Can be dirty - renters are not looking to leave their place 'ready for the next guest' if you know what I mean. But the benefits are free food, beer etc.
• Other housekeeping - same as Big White, maybe a pass - Ask!
• Ski/Snowboard Instructor - Sexy! Lowish pay (unless you are level 3 and above). Free ski pass and you have a cool job. Cool capital C. 
• Liftie - A bit dull but always steady. Ski pass and you get to ski a little whilst working.
• Telus Park - same
• Snow clearing. Intermittent hours, busiest when conditions are best... good wages, hard work and will keep you fit, but little snow means little work...
• Groomer - few jobs but you work mostly nights - ski/ride during the day.

So do some homework, contact the businesses early, and find a place to stay... oh, that's where we come in - Sólido Properties - manages and rents their own and third party properties. If you need long term accommodation we can help. Like us on Facebook - we will like you :) ...maybe.

A (true) Story

In 1990 Iraq invaded Kuwait - I don't know the real reason, oil, CIA, strategic positioning, dictator reasoning - (this is similar to logic of the fairer sex). 

By January 1991 I found myself with a squadron of British Royal Engineers in the Saudi desert - by the way the Saudi desert is not sand it is hard, dusty dirt - a sand storm is not sand, it is dust so fine it hangs suspended...

But but but, that is not the story...

I was a dispatch rider (on the British Armstrong 500) and heavy equipment operator (bulldozers, scrapers, excavators etc) with my Squadron, so my bike was also my transport to get to site, as and when needed. 

Anyway I found myself building up the defences of an American squadron of Blackhawk helicopters, probably 20 clicks from my home base. I would leave camp at early o'clock, ride to the Blackhawk camp, work, and then ride back.  The route was drive from the camp to the 'road' I use the term 'road' very broadly as it was basically a big pot hole with bits of tarmac sticking out at acute angles - not to dissimilar to shark fins in an ocean. I would then drive the road to the turnoff for the Americans and drive their track to their camp - simple.

But the road was treacherous, it was easier driving the ugly desert than the ugly road. One night I finished late and I thought I would take a short cut - as the crow flies, drive the desert to the camp. At best is was a weak plan, but at 21 - I made the mistakes of a 21 year old.

The rumour was Iraqi death squads had infiltrated the area and were looking for easy targets - a loan squaddie on a bike? An easy target.

I set off and pretty soon it got dark, and dark in the desert is dark. There are no lights, no glow of distant towns or cities - the only light is from the moon (none that night) and the stars (lots). I kind of get lost and because it is a war zone, every military camp is on black-out.

I am riding around and looking for the camp when the bike's timing belt goes. Now the Armstrong is a simple bike, heavy, low power, easy to fix. The timing belt had gone multiple times, and I had replaced them multiple times - on this very bike. I had the tools and I had a spare belt. I also had a flashlight to see what I was doing - easy.

Not so easy. The timing belt cover plate is held on by five (if I remember correctly) bolts. And the bolts on this plate had been removed so many times that they were difficult to remove at the best of times - in the dark, using one hand (flashlight in the other) I could not get the cover plate off. I was in a bit of a pickle...

Trying to work out my options I see the lights of a truck on the horizon, driving right to left. My instant thought was 'friendly forces or not friendly?' (Iraqi insurgents?) It is a war zone and the allied standing orders are no lights after dark - but I also assume any Iraqi forces would have the same order. My conclusion was unfriendly forces would be less likely to drive with lights.

With my headlight I flash the morse code for help (SOS) - dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. Nothing, I'm thinking any military guy would know this, why are they not turning? They must be able to see me I am the only flashing light, in a sea of darkness. I try again - dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot. Nothing. I am at a loss - why are they not turning - Iraqis? I try again and again and again, eventually the headlights... although by this point I am not certain I want that.

The vehicle gets close and I realize it is an American military pick-up truck with a driver, passenger and looking very much like they should - very good. The driver, drives his vehicle up to me, winds down his window and says...

Now recall, I am a lone soldier, in the middle of the desert, bike in a disassembled state, it is a war zone and I am signalling a distress signal for help.

... in a southern drawl "Can you tell me where the AT&T phones are...?"

Desert, war zone, distress signal, soldier all alone... looking back I ask myself, just what was he thinking when he drove up to me - "hey look there is a soldier, all alone, in the middle of nowhere, flashing us so he can give us directions..."

The Armstrong 500