Day one: the battle of the bluffs begins.

Bloody fucking people and their complete fucking inability to read signs.

Yes, it's the first day and I am reduced to the f-word.

There is ONE set of stairs to my beach. One. I put that huge orange sign that you looked at perplexedly there because to get to the beach, you have to WALK AROUND THE BLOODY SIGN. The sign, incidentally, says "stay clear: cliffs unstable" with a picture of some big fucking rocks falling on a person's head. Just for the more visual learners, you know.

Does that mean that YOU, oh entitled one, deserve to sit beneath the cliffs? No, that means I have to leave my tower to run over to you and tell you to please move, because the bluffs are unstable. Now, I don't really care about the running back and forth and up and down and whatnot. That's my job, and I get payed pretty damn good money to do it. But what I DO care about is the fact that I am one person watching a half-mile of beach. And while YOU demand an explanation of why you cannot sit under the unstable bluffs (they will fall. on. your. head. and. you. will. die) no one is watching the rest of my water.

I know people who work in retail must deal with this too-- the idiot who tries to use the out of order vending machine (with the coin slot they ripped the tape off of to stick their money in), or the moron who slips and falls right in front of a "Caution-- wet floor" sign. But this is a little different-- someone could DIE while I'm reiterating what these people should have been intelligent enough to deduce in the first place. I always start the day with such enthusiasm: "if I put the sign HERE, there's no WAY anyone can miss it!" Alas, it works for about fifty percent of the general beach populace.