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By education and experience - Accountant with a specialty in taxation. Formerly a CPA (license has lapsed). Masters degree in law of taxation from University of Denver. Now retired. Part time work during baseball season as receptionist & switchboard operator for the Colorado Rockies. This gig feeds my soul in ways I have trouble articulating. One daughter, and four grandchildren. I share the house with two cats; a big goof of a cat called Grinch (named as a joke for his easy going "whatever" disposition); and Lady, a shelter adoptee with a regal bearing and sweet little soprano voice. I would be very bereft if it ever becomes necessary to keep house without a cat.
Mood:
Satisfied
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First Homestand
Rockies were 4-2 for the first week of the season's home games. Opening day was about as hectic a time as I've had during the eight years I've worked there. The team has a new contract with a different ticket agency than in the past, and the change involved a new type of electronic bar scanner. For some reason I never did understand, the scanners at the gate were not reading all the tickets properly. The overwhelming number of fans coming to the game entered without incident, but a pretty significant chunk of them were directed to the ticket service window to have a problem identified and resolved. That meant they congregated in the lobby where I work, all of them irritable and frustrated, and far too many of them to wait in a convenient spot - the lobby is simply too small. Eventually a representative of the ticket agency arrived, with a little plastic stylus, and as he began to key in ticket information mannually, the numbers of impatient baseball fans milling around began to diminish.
Normally on game day, I work behind the desk, but since the game was on a weekday, I joined my two co-workers in the lobby. So there were three of us, and we could have used five. Eventually, we had all the problems resolved and could take a couple of deep breaths, but all in all, the reason for it all - the home opener - went by in a blur and I read about it in the newspaper the next morning! Jorge delaRosa was definitely the man in charge with a 7-0 win.
The next game, on Saturday evening, went 14 innings, and the Rockies lost. On Sunday morning as I signed in at 8:30, the cleaning crews were still working at full throttle, obviously several hours behind schedule. And although the field sparkled in its customary bright green, I could see that the grounds crew was also playing catch-up.
Signing in on opening day is always fun. The two owners of the team, the president of the club, and the head of stadium operations wait at the employee gate, shaking hands with us all in turn and making small talk.
Although it's a large operation, with several hundred people working in each of about half a dozen employee groups, the stadium is probably like any other large group of people, with many smaller workgroups where everyone knows everyone else. And my job as evening and weekend receptionist has made me familiar to quite a few people who work in quite a few areas. I do know that the game day hospitality staff all received an email about Mr W's services. But I was still surprised when one of the two brothers who own the team saw my face as I reached to shake his hand, and instead put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek.
Later on, the General Manager asked my about my off season. I have visited with him before, and had an inkling that he wasn't making polite small talk, but was asking me a sincere question. I briefly told him about the strain of the last 8 months, and added that I had always found baseball restorative in a mysterious way and was very glad to be back to work. As he listened to my story, he commented that no matter what else happened on the field, that he had heard good news from Coors Field that day!
As so it went, from the vendor on the sidewalk who sells scorecards, to good friends in the ticketing department, and many co-workers in my work group, the greetings were warm and sincere, and I increased my confidence that being at the stadium will be a healing experience.
The wierd phone calls began almost immediately. I think in the past six years of doing this job, I've received maybe one or two calls inquiring if people can bring their dogs to the park. With the exception of service animials, no, they can't. I think over the first homestand I had at least one call per evening and occasionally more, with people asking about bringing a dog. What strange convergence of the stars and planets causes a string of calls like that?
And one situation which was the sort of thing you just hope will never happen. A call on the radio that a young boy, six years old, was with the guest relations staff on the upper level, and his father could not be located. Five or ten minutes later, a reminder call, the kid is still there, dad still not present.
My phone rings. The boy's mother is on the line, the police at the stadium have tried to reach her, leaving a message for her inquiring if she can provide a cell phone number for her husband. She is, quite understandably, frantic. I immediately do my best to reassure her that her son is safe, he is with stadium staff, we will keep him with our staff people for as long as is necessary. As she and I talk, she tells me that she and the boy's father are recently separated, that this is the dad's first experience with visitation, and just look what happened! Of course, I don't know all the details, but I do my best to stress that whatever transpired, the little boy is now OK and not in any danger. I connect her to the police phone extension and within a few minutes there is an announcement on the radio that father and son are reunited.
I've long since ceased to think that I've heard every event which could possibly happen at Coors Field.
It's good to be back in the swing.
Normally on game day, I work behind the desk, but since the game was on a weekday, I joined my two co-workers in the lobby. So there were three of us, and we could have used five. Eventually, we had all the problems resolved and could take a couple of deep breaths, but all in all, the reason for it all - the home opener - went by in a blur and I read about it in the newspaper the next morning! Jorge delaRosa was definitely the man in charge with a 7-0 win.
The next game, on Saturday evening, went 14 innings, and the Rockies lost. On Sunday morning as I signed in at 8:30, the cleaning crews were still working at full throttle, obviously several hours behind schedule. And although the field sparkled in its customary bright green, I could see that the grounds crew was also playing catch-up.
Signing in on opening day is always fun. The two owners of the team, the president of the club, and the head of stadium operations wait at the employee gate, shaking hands with us all in turn and making small talk.
Although it's a large operation, with several hundred people working in each of about half a dozen employee groups, the stadium is probably like any other large group of people, with many smaller workgroups where everyone knows everyone else. And my job as evening and weekend receptionist has made me familiar to quite a few people who work in quite a few areas. I do know that the game day hospitality staff all received an email about Mr W's services. But I was still surprised when one of the two brothers who own the team saw my face as I reached to shake his hand, and instead put his arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek.
Later on, the General Manager asked my about my off season. I have visited with him before, and had an inkling that he wasn't making polite small talk, but was asking me a sincere question. I briefly told him about the strain of the last 8 months, and added that I had always found baseball restorative in a mysterious way and was very glad to be back to work. As he listened to my story, he commented that no matter what else happened on the field, that he had heard good news from Coors Field that day!
As so it went, from the vendor on the sidewalk who sells scorecards, to good friends in the ticketing department, and many co-workers in my work group, the greetings were warm and sincere, and I increased my confidence that being at the stadium will be a healing experience.
The wierd phone calls began almost immediately. I think in the past six years of doing this job, I've received maybe one or two calls inquiring if people can bring their dogs to the park. With the exception of service animials, no, they can't. I think over the first homestand I had at least one call per evening and occasionally more, with people asking about bringing a dog. What strange convergence of the stars and planets causes a string of calls like that?
And one situation which was the sort of thing you just hope will never happen. A call on the radio that a young boy, six years old, was with the guest relations staff on the upper level, and his father could not be located. Five or ten minutes later, a reminder call, the kid is still there, dad still not present.
My phone rings. The boy's mother is on the line, the police at the stadium have tried to reach her, leaving a message for her inquiring if she can provide a cell phone number for her husband. She is, quite understandably, frantic. I immediately do my best to reassure her that her son is safe, he is with stadium staff, we will keep him with our staff people for as long as is necessary. As she and I talk, she tells me that she and the boy's father are recently separated, that this is the dad's first experience with visitation, and just look what happened! Of course, I don't know all the details, but I do my best to stress that whatever transpired, the little boy is now OK and not in any danger. I connect her to the police phone extension and within a few minutes there is an announcement on the radio that father and son are reunited.
I've long since ceased to think that I've heard every event which could possibly happen at Coors Field.
It's good to be back in the swing.
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