Read Online The Carrier (The Carrier Series Book 1) by Diana Ryan - Free Book Online Page A

group. She was clearly the ringleader, as she knew
many of the ladies by name and escorted a few by herself down the stairs. Poor
old Rob had to make multiple trips up and down the ramp pushing wheelchairs
full of passengers. Following up the group was an overweight middle-aged man
wearing navy blue head to toe—no doubt the bus driver.
    We were in the best mood as the nice old ladies
very carefully and slowly embarked onto the Bailey . I offered my hand
many times to help some bridge the gap between the dock and the back deck of
the boat. But as Jack and Rob were hoisting a wheelchair-bound passenger onto the
boat, another lady wedged her bright white orthopedic shoes right in the gap
between two of the stairs leading to the top deck. It took Jack and me many
minutes to pry it free while she screeched, “Watch my bunions!” at
us. Even so, I turned on the sweetness as I buttered up those old ladies,
ready to graciously accept their dollar bills at the end of the tour.
    Once the group had been loaded and all were
successfully seated, the crew was ready to depart. As Jack pulled the boat away
from the dock and turned our beauty around, he began to give the ladies a
wonderful welcome. Before I knew it, someone yelled, “We can’t hear!” and
pointed to her ears. I smiled, nodded and bent down to turn up the sound system
hidden underneath the guide’s counter. When I popped back up, someone else
yelled, “Where’s the bathroom?” 
    What? No raising of
hands? No polite, “Excuse me ma’am?” This seemed to be a rare breed of OLS.
They were going to make me work for their money.
    So I did work really hard, giving interesting
and clear commentary, singing perfectly on every note, using downtime to engage
in small talk with the ladies in the front row, and doing personal favors like
opening and closing windows upon their request. It was one of my best tours in
quite a while.
    Thirty minutes later we were headed back
upriver, which meant it was time for me to pass out the guide books so the
passengers could look at them and decide if they wanted to purchase one. As I
was gliding through the rows, I looked up and noticed we were passing a Duck.
It was my oldest friend, Ted. He saw my OLS and gave me an enthusiastic
thumbs-up. I think I saw him mouth, “Yeah, baby!” I replied with
a thumbs- up and an obnoxious smile of my own. Then he gave me the phone
sign and mouthed, “Call me later.” I hadn’t talked to Ted for a few months. I
guess it was about time.
    I returned back to my station in the front of
the boat next to Jack. Traditionally, the driver gave the sales pitch. The
pitch was carefully designed to brainwash the passengers into buying a
guidebook. The driver would explain how wonderful the guidebooks were by
carefully pointing out certain pictures inside. He’d comment on how useful it
was to have a postcard for each picture from your trip, and then, for the
frosting on the cake, he would pour on a little guilt explaining that your
wonderful tour guide made a small portion of the sales from these books.
Purchasing a book would be a wonderful way to thank your guide for the
excellent tour she has provided for you.
    When Jack was done, I decided to press my luck
a little more by turning on some relaxing music from my iPod. Floating upriver
surrounded by amazing scenery and listening to a beautiful song was like magic.
These old ladies wouldn’t know what hit them.
    It was time to go collect my fortune. Jack
said, “Good luck, kid,” and I gave him a nod and a playful punch on the
shoulder. I quickly walked past the first few rows and sped all the way to the
back row of the bottom deck. A little tour guide trick is to start selling from
the back row and move to the front. That way, the tourists can’t see what
others are doing. If you began in the front and the first few passengers
decided to pass on the book, all the others seemed to think they would pass as
well. And it would catch on like wildfire.
    I