One of the principal benefits of membership in Realskiers.com is the right to correspond with yours truly one-on-one, that I might address and ultimately resolve your most urgent, ski-related issues. As skiing, in my view, reaches into all aspects of one’s being – sensual, technical, athletic, intellectual and spiritual – no queries are off-limits, although the reliability of my answers increases the closer we hew to my core competence.
In this week’s Revelation and attendant podcast, I want to remind my Dear Readers and Listeners that this unusual access to an unrivaled store of experience in the field perches precariously on a fragile foundation, namely, you.
That’s right, just as in your childhood fantasies, the future we all want to believe in can only be assured by your personal intervention. If the past has taught us anything, it’s that you cannot count on your hypothetical “neighbor” to step up and fill the considerable gap in my personal finances that yawns before us. No, the solution begins with you accepting the inevitability of your role, that saving mankind begins at home, in particular my home, without which saving a bunch of other homes, such as your own, won’t mean much to posterity.
I think a clever soul such as yourself would realize by now the severity of the situation. If this doesn’t describe you, imagine that Realskiers has been convicted of a crime it did not commit and was sentenced to die unless the pardon you’re crafting arrives in time. While you diddled vaingloriously over the finer points of your copious legalese, Realskiers was executed.
At this moment, I want you to pause and feel just how much you’ve disappointed me, and more importantly, yourself. Awful feeling, isn’t it? I’ll bet you feel like you did when you were first caught lying, probably about breaking a favorite vase while rough-housing, or maybe insider trading or Medicare fraud. You see, life, in all its mystery, has consequences. If you believe otherwise, I want to know your secret.
By now, you’re probably wondering where this fascinating train of thought is heading. As in all good mysteries, it’s heading back to you and your pivotal role in my personal journey. You see, you have something I want more of, and who are you to deny me? After all we’ve been through together, the late-night bickering, the pre-dawn caterwauling we can’t even remember the details about anymore; let’s put all that aside and just focus on what you can do for me now.
Ok, here it is: I need more money, and it might as well come from you. Oh, I know what you’re going to say, that you “already gave at the office,” or “you already double-billed me.” True, but that was in the past; that was the Old Me, the Pre-Enlightenment Me. I’m ten times the person now, but only twice as much in debt. You see, I’m growing up right before your ancient, rheumy eyes.
I could yell examples of my plight into your ears at deafening decibels and it wouldn’t make the slightest difference, so I’ll forego the usual auditory assault. Instead, let’s gloss over our past squabbles over who-billed-whom-how-much and get back on point: it’s been a solid ten seconds since I asked for more money and you haven’t made the slightest move to fulfill this simple request. Some kind of friend you turned out to be.
But it’s not too late for us to get back on track, to re-build what we once had! In the misty past, you could have argued that I haven’t provided you with the means to send me extra money unless I billed you several times over for the same service, a practice some prickly subscribers protested.
But that tired argument will no longer hold water, as today we have installed a digital “Tip Jar” right on the Realskiers.com home page! Now there’s no reason not to send an appreciable chunk of your disposable income directly to Realskiers.com, and I’ll take it from there, trust me.
Think of all the money I’ve saved you over the years, not to mention the unquantifiable value of being a Realskiers.com member, instead of some ignorant, self-hating schlub. Now take that money, multiply it by the current rate of inflation and send it back to me, thereby closing the Circle of Life and restoring mankind to something closer to its true, and as yet unrealized, potential.
If that sounds like a big, important job, who’s to say it isn’t? Do your part. Be somebody involved with something that’s bigger than you are, and far, far more important. Under these circumstances, how can you say no? I anticipate that you will soon stop reading or listening to this rant so that you can unclog your mind and send me more money with a clear conscience.
To prove my prescience, I furthermore predict you will stop reading – or listening – in the next few seconds. What you do in the immediate aftermath, alone with your conscience, will matter more to me than either of us can possibly say.
Please, for everyone’s benefit, don’t screw it up. If you donate right now, I can assure you that you’ll experience a surge of self-esteem that will last at least until your payment is no longer refundable.
Amen.
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The Making of a Skier, Chapter XI: Desperate Measures
When Head humanely, if rather brusquely, terminated my tenure in 2001, the ski business in the U.S. was already facing stiff headwinds, a brewing storm that would turn into a full-on debacle when 9/11 disrupted all commerce. I became unemployed just in time for the job market to implode.
I don’t handle inactivity well. I started writing a very long, very dreadful novel, composed a handful of scripts for Warren Miller – and later, Jeremy Bloom – to recite and scribbled batches of brochure copy and white papers for industries as diverse as accounting software, instrumented football helmets that registered concussions and risk assessment based on location.
The pickings were slim, but they wouldn’t have amounted to anything at all were it not for a little help from my friends. Andy Bigford, who I’d worked with at Snow Country, hired me for the Warren Miller gig. A college chum kindly engaged me to write white papers on accounting fraud. But it was Dave Bertoni, an erstwhile colleague from Salomon days, who joined me in creating Desperate Measures: A Training Method for Selling Technical Products at Retail.
Reader Comments on Why Ski Sales Have Shrunk
In this week’s Revelation, I posted my top ten (twelve, actually) reasons why skis sales have shrunk, along with the musings of two Dear Readers on the subject. Note that the topic’s focus was ski sales at retail, not skier or skier/rider participation rates, subjects that are certainly related but just as certainly not the same.
Below are verbatim reader responses culled in the last 48 hours. I’ve corrected the odd typo, but otherwise left these contributions intact.
My thanks to all who took the time to tell their tales. – J
Top Reasons U.S. Ski Sales Have Shrunk
[As I wrapped up an earlier Revelation, I proposed to my beloved readership that they share their list of the top ten reasons U.S. ski sales have shrunk. I elicited only two written responses, so I’ll reproduce both here in their entirety, along with my musings on the subject. Consider these submissions tinder to light a fire under you, Dear Reader, to submit a list of your own.]
From Rick Pasturczak
1. Snowboarding-
I’ve noticed most snowboarders are 12 to 20 years old and once they become an adult, almost all stop. While I noticed most skiers continue on.
2. High school and college sports-
Schools now require practicing sports during Christmas and spring breaks taking away opportunities to hit the slopes and family vacations to the mountains. I’ve been told by many parents the coaches forbid them to ski.
3. Travel costs-
Lodging, airfare, ground transportation, and lift tickets.
4. Video games
5. Cost of lessons make it expensive to improve.
6. Confusing selection of equipment
7. Magazines and movies showing extreme skiing
8. Cruising. We need some resorts to be all inclusive.
9. Baggy pants. Bring back stretch pants and sex appeal.
10. Last, we need mother nature to be more consistent with snow.
