Page 11 of An Irish Summer

For me, the morning passed in a blur. It wasn’t a ton of information, and it wasn’t entirely different from working at O’Shea’s, but the combination of the lack of sleep and the foreign environment made it difficult to process. For Lars, however, the morning passed in streams of light and color. How could anyone be so excited about organizing spreadsheets and answering landlines?

“You’re a fast learner, there,” he said as he supervised me making a booking over the phone.

“I have a lot of experience,” I said. “I used to work in a bed-and-breakfast back home in Boston, doing reception and some event planning on the side and whatever else.”

“That explains a lot,” he said. “Most of our seasonal staff are untrained, so this process usually requires a lot more work on my end. But you’re making my job nice and easy this morning.” His smile was blinding.

“Well, I aim to please,” I said.

“How’d you end up here, anyway? What happened to the bed-and-breakfast?” If everyone was this nosy, I understood how word traveled so quickly.

“It closed,” I said, willing to share only the facts. “The owners, Lori’s sister and brother-in-law, sold so they could retire.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “And you didn’t want to stay in Boston?” Was this interrogation part of the training?

“I-I, uh...” I stuttered. “I’m just taking a break, that’s all. Returning as soon as the summer is over.”Or as soon as I line up a job and an apartment, I refrained from adding aloud.

“Pity,” he said, busying himself by shuffling a stack of papers on the desk. “I have a feeling you’ll be good here.”

The compliment was surprising and it warmed me for a second. Someone thought I would be good here. Then I felt the instant pressure of having to live up to anyone’s expectations, so I pushed the thought from my mind and refocused on the training.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to remain neutral.

“Did Lori mention some of the other stuff you’d be doing besides running the desk?” he asked, and I felt my eyes widen.

“Other stuff?”

“Nothing crazy, don’t worry. We all just pick up odd jobs here and there. Whatever we need to do to keep the hostel running. Sometimes it’s housekeeping, helping Flo in the kitchen, picking up a bartending shift, whatever it is. It’s a real community feel around here.”

The thought of having to change strangers’ sheets repulsed me, but a group of people supporting one another at work sounded... nice. We hadn’t had a ton of staff at O’Shea’s, and even so, we hadn’t interacted much. Everyone kept to their own jobs, but here, I sensed I was going to have to get used to the opposite.

“And you mentioned event planning back home, yeah?” Lars clarified.

I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly weirdly insecure even though I was the one who volunteered that information. “Yeah, but I know that’s your thing here, so I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes. Just here to answer phones.” I hoped my smile hid how awkward I felt.

“I’m mostly in charge of the athletic stuff,” he said. “Kayaking, hiking, cycling, yoga, that sort of thing. So we could use someone around here to organize some other events, now that I think about it. Maybe you could help out that way instead of changing sheets. If you’re keen, of course.”

Was I keen? I hadn’t realized it might have been a possibility, but it would look good on my résumé. And a good résumé would help me get out of here. And anything was better than changing sheets.

“That sounds great,” I said, trying to return his friendlysmile. “Thanks.” He nodded in response, wordlessly resuming our tour.

Lars and I spent the rest of the day reviewing some of those odd jobs, changing over guest rooms, visiting Flo as she prepared for the dinner service, going over the weekly schedule of outdoor activities and tours, and meeting some of the other staff.

“Is every day this busy?” I asked Lars as we closed out our last booking of the day.

“Sometimes busier,” he replied. “People always seem to think working at the hostel is going to be easy, but it’s hard work. It pays off in a big way, though, since we get to meet all kinds of interesting people and show them such a beautiful place. Helping people make lasting memories is quite the reward for the workload.”

Busier?If that was the case, when was I supposed to look for jobs? Apartments? How would I set up my life back in Boston for my return? I forced the panic from my chest, reminding myself I still had nights and off-days. I could find the time, right?

“At least we don’t have to work around the clock,” I said, trying to gauge how much free time I would actually have. “Those days off are probably superrelaxing.”

“If you use them to relax,” he said, leaning back in the desk chair and spinning it around. “But if I’m honest, most of us play as hard as we work. We use the free time to explore Ireland, or go down the pub for a few too many pints, or to travel wherever else we can find cheap flights. There’s never a dull moment. Which leads me to our last stop of today’s training,” he said, getting up from his chair and gesturing out the door.How could we possibly have more to do? I was exhausted, and I’d desperately hoped closing down the phones was the last item on our agenda. “To the bar,” he said. Of course. I should have known.

His broad smile told me there was no way I was getting out of this. He was in charge of my training, after all, and I prided myself on my work ethic. If that was the last stop for today, so be it. A drink might actually feel good.

An overhead bell announced our arrival as we walked through the door, but no one turned to look. Groups of people, travelers and locals alike, I assumed, crowded around tables, barrels, and barstools, talking over one another and swigging heavily from pint glasses. It was more crowded than I anticipated, and I followed Lars closely as we weaved around the throngs to the bar.

We slid onto two stools near the wall, which was covered in notes, Polaroids, and ticket stubs from years and years of passing travelers. I studied them, imagining the lives of these people. Had they all come to Galway just for fun? Had any of them been forced from their job and their apartment and backed into a corner? Or was I the only one pathetic enough to flee the country to avoid having to move back in with her parents? And if they did come to Galway for fun, what exactly did they find?

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