....Before he can journey home.
Guest author: Paul
Everyone knows us pretty well at the Surefoot shop by now. We trudge in through the front door every morning and make ourselves right at home, tossing our ski gear into the corner, acting like we work there or something. "The Fam"(Paul, Madeline, and Natalie that is)has become something of a permanent three-sided fixture in the back of the shop, an obstacle that is always moving yet always in the way. In the morning we arrive tired with plenty of gear, and in the afternoon we return wet, tired, and with plenty of gear. Usually, Andrew finds some way to hook us up with free gear and solve the baffling foot problems that plague the Sprowell-Geise crew. For Madeline, it was two hours of work and a free $235 custom foot orthotic, a free $200 liner and 1.5 hours of labor at $1/min. Unfortunately for Natalie, we had no throwaway orthotics in her size.
The back of the shop needs a little explanation for the full effect, so I will do my best to provide you with my impression while still maintaining the inherent "bro" vibe that defines a Whistler boot fitting company only too well. To reach the "Employee only" zone of Surefoot, one must squeeze around a hairpin corner laden with shoes, jackets, and other miscellaneous ski gear that has accumulated from a lot of people who came to ski Whistler and never even bothered to come back to get their shoes (I think most are customers, but it is frightening to imagine the number of employees they have lost to the inevitability of ski-bumming). Around the corner, the cabinets are overflowing with ski boots, liners, and bits and pieces of soon-to-be custom orthotics, but the work zone is narrow and surprisingly tidy considering the less than hard-working mindset of most of the employees. There are always more employees in the back of the shop than there are helping customers, so it isn't surprising that the unwelcome threesome can never find solitude. After hours, the dudes and dudettes of the Surefoot Bootfitting Co. crack out a few alcoholic refreshments and chill man. But don't question the efficiency of the business--orthotics are made, boots are sold, and customers leave satisfied. If you do decide to ask, they are liable to reply, "Hey man, it's Whistler," as if that explains everything.
We have now made several dramatic exits from the Surefoot shop: one on Wednesday, another on Friday, and from the looks of it, again on Saturday. Since now we have postponed our return flight not once, but twice in order to add on three more days shredding the gnarly pow-pow on Whistler's steepest and deepest, we have successfully fooled the entire Surefoot staff into thinking we are gone. For example, as we prepared to leave Whistler forever the second time, the staff wished us the best for our flight home (again), and Andrew's coworker Tim looked particularly pleased as we gathered our soggy gear for the last time: "Have a safe flight home!" He will be glad to see us tomorrow morning.
Guest author: Paul
Everyone knows us pretty well at the Surefoot shop by now. We trudge in through the front door every morning and make ourselves right at home, tossing our ski gear into the corner, acting like we work there or something. "The Fam"(Paul, Madeline, and Natalie that is)has become something of a permanent three-sided fixture in the back of the shop, an obstacle that is always moving yet always in the way. In the morning we arrive tired with plenty of gear, and in the afternoon we return wet, tired, and with plenty of gear. Usually, Andrew finds some way to hook us up with free gear and solve the baffling foot problems that plague the Sprowell-Geise crew. For Madeline, it was two hours of work and a free $235 custom foot orthotic, a free $200 liner and 1.5 hours of labor at $1/min. Unfortunately for Natalie, we had no throwaway orthotics in her size.
The back of the shop needs a little explanation for the full effect, so I will do my best to provide you with my impression while still maintaining the inherent "bro" vibe that defines a Whistler boot fitting company only too well. To reach the "Employee only" zone of Surefoot, one must squeeze around a hairpin corner laden with shoes, jackets, and other miscellaneous ski gear that has accumulated from a lot of people who came to ski Whistler and never even bothered to come back to get their shoes (I think most are customers, but it is frightening to imagine the number of employees they have lost to the inevitability of ski-bumming). Around the corner, the cabinets are overflowing with ski boots, liners, and bits and pieces of soon-to-be custom orthotics, but the work zone is narrow and surprisingly tidy considering the less than hard-working mindset of most of the employees. There are always more employees in the back of the shop than there are helping customers, so it isn't surprising that the unwelcome threesome can never find solitude. After hours, the dudes and dudettes of the Surefoot Bootfitting Co. crack out a few alcoholic refreshments and chill man. But don't question the efficiency of the business--orthotics are made, boots are sold, and customers leave satisfied. If you do decide to ask, they are liable to reply, "Hey man, it's Whistler," as if that explains everything.
We have now made several dramatic exits from the Surefoot shop: one on Wednesday, another on Friday, and from the looks of it, again on Saturday. Since now we have postponed our return flight not once, but twice in order to add on three more days shredding the gnarly pow-pow on Whistler's steepest and deepest, we have successfully fooled the entire Surefoot staff into thinking we are gone. For example, as we prepared to leave Whistler forever the second time, the staff wished us the best for our flight home (again), and Andrew's coworker Tim looked particularly pleased as we gathered our soggy gear for the last time: "Have a safe flight home!" He will be glad to see us tomorrow morning.
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