‘A teenage bar manager was caught in bed with a 40-year-old on a family holiday’: Confessions of a ski seasonaire

Working a ski season has long been a rite of passage for fresh-faced youngsters, keen to head for the hills for a winter of fun and frivolity on the slopes. In the early Noughties I was one such personality chasing the seasonaire dream.

In the years since, during which European resorts (and workers in them) have endured a changing landscape, a referendum and a pandemic, I’ve often wondered if the life of a seasonaire is what it once was…

Then: Sex, drugs and freezing bedrooms

Occasionally, when reminiscing about the wonderful winters I spent working in various European ski resorts, I remind myself that there also were days when I wanted to flee back to the UK.

On one such occasion, the manager at the hotel I was working at in Tignes told me the budget couldn’t stretch to fixing the broken window in my basement bedroom (snow blew through the cracks and I ended up with bronchitis). I grimace at memories of the dilapidated property in Courchevel where I purposefully avoided the guests after they clapped eyes on the blood-like stains splattered across the frayed carpet.

In Courmayeur, one head chef was a raging alcoholic (he was eventually sacked after skiing down the staircase at 3am), while in Tignes, my resort-manager boss slashed the tyres on a guest’s badly parked car, then told me to lie about the culprit to the gendarmes.

But then I remember the things which kept me coming back: the free lift pass, the endless days on the slopes, the raucous nights out with fellow season workers who became great friends, and the shared sense of camaraderie, which gave even the bleakest of situations a silver lining. In Tignes, after the tyre-slashing incident, I awoke to find our chef had spent the night carving a supersized profanity directed at the manager into the frozen lake next to our hotel.

When our work was done, we’d gather in our favourite bars (the ones offering the biggest discounts) to share horror stories. In Tignes, this was The Alpaka, a cosy pub run by a British couple with a lovable great Dane who doubled as our therapy dog.

And not all the guests were awful. In Courchevel, where I was a hotel housekeeper, the group of lads who had, without fail, trashed their hotel room every day, came to see me before they checked to give me a bottle of Champagne – they’d purchased it but couldn’t fit in their luggage. Incidentally, they also presented me with half of a bag of marijuana they didn’t want in their checked bags for very different reasons (I politely declined).

Often, the worst guests were those we assumed would be the best. I’ll never forget the day my fellow housekeeper, up at the crack of dawn for an early shift, discovered the 18-year-old bar manager in flagrante with a 40-year-old guest, who was visiting with her husband and three children.

Now: Brexit bureaucracy and work blunders, but higher wages

20 years on, while I’ve got no desire to spend six months sleeping in a basement bedroom, I’ve often wondered if season workers – of which there are certainly fewer – have as much fun these days. 28-year-old Matilda Thomson spent several winters working in the French Alps between 2018 and 2023, and was employed by a range of tour operators, including Fish and Pips (now F&P Travel) and Ski Famille during the coronavirus pandemic.

Her roles ranged from chalet host to childcare assistant, and she admits that, when it comes to her most recent seasons, various factors added layers of stress that hadn’t existed earlier. “During the pandemic, there was the constant worry about whether you had Covid, and everyone was either ill or covering for illness. You were so constantly tired it felt like you were ill. There was also the horrible anticipation, waiting for borders to open.”

And then, of course, there was Brexit, which resulted in a wealth of paperwork for seasonal workers unlike anything I ever had to manage. “I had to go and give biometric data at a place in Chambery,” Matilda recalls. “I produced my old work contracts to show the French government I’d contributed to the economy and should be allowed to work out there. Some of my season worker friends had to have lung scans done at the hospital to check they wouldn’t burden France’s healthcare system.”

Brexit has had a huge impact on the recruitment of seasonal workers. “Many companies have reduced the size of their operations and use more EU (rather than UK) citizens due to uncertainty about whether visas will be granted,” says Skiworld director Diane Palumbo. “Austria, for example, has a set visa quota and there simply aren’t enough for UK citizens, while the French government has worked hard with UK business to streamline application processes. This is where there are now the most opportunities for season work.”

Another shift relates to the selection process. Put it this way – my former colleagues, who lacked any experience or qualification, wouldn’t stand a chance. “Because there’s more competition for fewer jobs, the calibre and the ages of applicants is higher,” says Diane. “Season workers now need more relevant previous experience in hospitality and areas such as planning and logistics. Ski seasons are now seen as gateways to other professions, rather than simply a year out.”

But that doesn’t mean it’s all work and no play. Or, for that matter, that there’s any shortage of unexpected incidents, if Matilda’s anecdotes are anything to go by. “There was the time a snowplough reversed over the bonnet of my car on the way to work, and once, when I was nannying, one of the kids flew forward and hit his nose on the safety bar on the bus,” she recalls. “I’ve never seen that much blood! Then there was the time I burned my chest when a cafetière in my chalet exploded, resulting in a very awkward topless moment with five doctors.”

But like me, Matilda wouldn’t change her experiences for the world. “Doing a season felt like living in a big, friendly village,” says Matilda. “You’re surrounded by friends, and every outing – whether it’s for a ski session or a night out – feels social and connected.”

She also points out that while securing work might be harder, conditions are much better. “Wages and accommodation have improved significantly since Brexit,” she says. “During my first season in 2017/18 I was earning £400 a month, but during my last one, in 2022/23, I earned £1,200 a month, with perks such as accommodation and a lift pass included.”

Read our guide to getting a job in a ski resort here.