I knew about a month into the summer of 2025 that I would not return. Well before my daughter died.

When making my final decision, I took that into account. However, the reasons I wouldn’t return had nothing to do with her dying.

This past summer felt more like budget guests. And I get it. It’s good to get a great deal. But they were also demanding. Rude. At times flat out mean.

On an 8-10 hour ride, people can consumer a lot of water. I have no problem serving them, as I enjoy doing so. I did not enjoy being told tersley that they asked for no ice. Filling up massive reusable containers. Serving copious amounts of hot water with lemon. Being stiffed when it came time to tip because we didn’t charge for water.

The number of times people grabbed my arm, pulled on my clothing, and called me anything but Deb. It was as if I wasn’t human.

I went into the summer full force. I had ordered cute moose and tree picks for the garnishes. I made friendship bracelets that said “Alaska” to hand out for free. I made a QR code with a virtual tip jar. Only to be told we couldn’t talk about tips.

Tips were a problem. I made a tipping wage, but couldn’t mention tipping. There was an unspoken rule that the bartender and the rail guide were to tip out the kitchen staff and dishwashers. That makes no sense. They made more money than I did and I wasn’t going to tip them for doing their job. So I didn’t. I spoke to upper management about this. I mentioned given this unspoken rule, the servers should then tip out the bartender for making the cocktails they serve. But the problem with alot of management and desk jobs is they’re (in my opinion) in-the-box thinkers. Unable to see outside the guidelines. So my suggestion did not change anything.

Another reason was my lack of nutrition. I have Celiac. A gluten free diet is imperative to my wellbeing and it isn’t optional. The first day of training I was served an item that contained gluten. Despite asking if it was gluten free.

This carried over to the dining hall at the homestead. I would be limited to the salad bar. After a long train ride with no lunch or snacks, I was hungry. A salad didn’t suffice. Eventually the kitchen made gluten free items. But by the time I ate, the chicken would be so dry you couldn’t chew it. It was almost always chicken too. I finally started purchasing Tillamook beef jerky and survived the summer with it.

I started to dread each trip. I’d talk myself up and set out to have a great experience. The guests weren’t fun (most often) and it didn’t take long to get a bad attitude.

That being said, I still did my job and I did it well. I am good at smiling and being friendly. It’s what I do.

I revisited my stories from the summer before. I could feel the joy in them. I remembered how fun the job was. This was not the same job.

I could go on and on. But I think you get the picture. These reasons had nothing to do with Natasha dying.

My next post I will go into detail on what put the nail in the coffin, so to speak, Dark humor for the win. (Natasha would love that). And it had everything to do with her dying.