Outrageous confessions of a ski instructor

AN Aussie ski instructor has made some outrageous confessions about what it’s really like working on the slopes. You’ll be shocked at what goes on.

‘I’m high and I slept with your wife’

WHICH winter warrior among us doesn’t fantasise about ditching it all and making a living on the side of a mountain as a ski instructor?

Well, we’re here to tell you that it isn’t as glamorous as you think. Sure, you get free lift tickets and free rein on the mountain. But you also have to deal with whiny kids and lecherous adults.

That’s why we chatted with Sven (not his real name), an Australian transplant to the United States who has been a ski instructor at three different resorts in Colorado and Canada over the past five years. Sven has seen it all … seriously.

Here’s what he had to say.

I hate your kids.

I know you think your little darlings are adorable just for learning to ski down the mountain. You clap and cheer their little snowplows, but you have no idea how much work goes into getting them to that level.

They look innocent enough but they’re terrors on the slopes.

Little do you know that the second you drop them off to zip down the slopes, they turn into tiny terrors. It can take at least a half-hour just to get them to stop screaming for their mummy and daddy. It can take another hour just to get them all up the bunny slope.

Then it’s all wiping snot and searching for missing mittens. I promise that being an instructor at the Kids Club is the best birth control method out there.

I’ve slept with your wife

Or sometimes your girlfriend. Everybody loves a ski instructor. It doesn’t take much to meet up après ski for a little fun. It also helps with the tips.

Fancy a warm down drink after?

We’re high

Yup. The guy operating your chairlift most likely smoked a bowl with breakfast.

Nothing warms you up quite like a quick hit at breakfast.

We give you the wrong size of boots on purpose

Don’t be a jerk to the ski shop dudes. We know your type and can see you a mile away. I’m talking about the rich dads who cut the lines and demand service for themselves and their posse of whiny brats right away.

Just as waiters will spit in your food, we will give you the wrong size of boots … just half a size. Tell us they’re too tight and we promise they loosen up on the mountain. That’s a lie. Your feet will be killing you halfway down your first run. That’s what you get for calling me “Sport.”

Sore feet? You’ll learn not to patronise the ski instructor again.

We’re not necessarily amazing skiers

We just look the part. Sure, we all pretend that we’re former members of our college ski teams and act as if we’re Olympians, but really we’re a crew of expats who can make our way down a mountain and need a job that will give us a place to sleep and some beer money.

Most of us love to ski, and don’t get me wrong, we’re good, but should I be getting $100 an hour to teach you and your kids how to ski. Hell, no!

We’re usually hung over and really not that great at skiing.

This article originally appeared on Yahoo Travel.