Chapter 7
ASHA
One night of good sleep later, I still can’t get over the fact that Callum sees his job so myopically.
Obviously, we’re not certified therapists, but a lot of people who aren’t certified therapists get thrown into positions of emotional care that no one tells them about. Like teachers. Or bartenders.
But it’s not just getting involved with people’s personal lives that Callum hates, it’s taking care of people in general, and making sure they’re happy.
For him, learning history should make them happy. Because I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing that makes him happy.
But the happiness is what drew me to this job in the first place.
I do love the history, but I also love seeing the joy on faces when they see something spectacular for the first time.
And that thing is different for everyone.
It could be the immense stillness inside a church older than America, or the bustling chaos of St. Mark’s Square where, among beautiful and historic buildings, pigeons, mosquitoes, and tourists all fight for space in a square… older than America.
To be fair, the description “older than America” applies to almost everything we see.
Or the laughter. I love interacting with people on vacation. Even though everyone has a hard day where the pace catches up to them and they get a little bit upset, more often than not, it’s a time of laughter with new friends and old.
I can’t comprehend not enjoying the people part of this job.
I get ready and am in the lobby early, but of course after Mr. Punctual Means Early.
“Good morning,” I tentatively say, wondering if he’s already grumpy this early.
“Morning, Wee Sunshine.”
I smile at that, still not sure in what universe that’s an insult. In Callum’s, apparently, because his tone is trying so hard to make it insulting. “Ready for day two?”
He grunts. “I hope none of them are hungover. It’s harder to teach the hungover.”
“You are not going to be happy at the whisky tasting, are you?”
“If I was alone, I would be. That sounds like a grand time. But no, not when I have to babysit the wee drunks.”
“What’s the worst that can happen?”
Callum’s eyes widen. “You had to say it, Wee Sunshine.”
I’ve never seen this much reaction from the man. It’s unsettling to see emotion on his face, and I think I prefer judgmental Callum over worried Callum. “It’ll be grand!” He winces, so I know my Irish accent hasn’t gotten any better in the last day. But at least he doesn’t look worried anymore.
The group arrives, about half looking like they went a little too hard on the first night. It’s expected. They were already a little jet-lagged, but they didn’t want to let that stop them from having a good first night out on their vacation. And now they’re paying for it, by being doubly tired.
A few people are already working on their vacation romances, specifically Charlotte and Emilio.
It may be the incurable romantic and lover of rom-coms in me, but I’m rooting for these two, especially since Emilio is one of the tourists who came alone and was so shy the first day.
So far, I have one couple (that I know of) who has gone the distance and brought their vacation romance into the real world. They just moved in together.
And I’m always hopeful for my next one.
The rest of the group are a mix of morning people—I don’t understand it, but as a tour guide, I respect and appreciate it—and people who are still waking up. I have a lot of empathy for these folks, since I also would rather the day start a few hours later.
But the museums wake up and close early, so we have to follow their timetable to see as much as possible in the short time we have.
“If anyone needs it, there’s a Boots next door, and there’s time to get some Tylenol, or paracetamol, as it’s called here. There’s also water and snacks if you want to grab some for the day. But anything you buy, you will have to carry, since we’re gonna walk to the castle,” Callum says.
A few people take Callum up on the offer, and I chat with the rest of the group. Callum remains silent and to one side, looking at his phone. I doubt he’s even doing anything interesting on there; he’s probably reviewing his notes for the walking tour.
Being the nosy type, I excuse myself from the people I’m talking to and wander over, being very subtle about the whole thing, if I do say so myself.
“Why are you being so awkward?”
Or maybe not so subtle, after all. Something to work on. “Just coming over to say hi.” I sneak a look down and see a picture of the castle on his screen, with text below it. Nailed it; he was definitely studying. “I was surprised you thought to offer them a Boots trip. It’s considerate.”
He looks at the store entrance. “Eh. I don’t need them complaining all day. And it would be a shame if they were in so much self-inflicted pain that they couldn’t learn about Edinburgh Castle.”
Yeah. That sounds right. “It would be a shame.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “You should probably talk to the group.”
I know I’m a broken record at this point, but isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing for him? Helping him refine some of his interpersonal skills.
“I have to review my speech so I don’t miss any important information.” He shakes his phone at me.
“I’m sure you will give them more information than they ever thought they would need.” Or want. But I’m too nice to say that bit of honesty-bordering-on-cruelty out loud. “But they want some human interaction as well. To feel like they made a friend.”
“I let them get medicine for their bad decisions, delaying us and the responsible tourists from starting our day. They should get it on their own time. But I still made the offer.”
“And that was good, except the part where you silently resent them for it. It’s the nature of these tours,” I say. “People need toilet breaks and they need water and jackets and they need ice cream, too. Sometimes they need medicine, for self-inflicted reasons or not.”
The people at Boots come back, cutting off our debate. We start the walk to the castle from our hotel, adopting a slow pace so people can take photos on the way. They saw the sights yesterday, but it’s earlier today, which means everything is less crowded. Making more stunning vacation photos.
It’s almost worth getting up early for.
“It would be fine if all these pictures were so they could remember what they’re learning. But they only want the likes on social media,” Callum whispers in my ear, catching me in between taking group photos.
“People have been sharing their vacation photos with friends since forever. At least this way friends can like and scroll on, without being trapped at a dinner where they have to watch a slideshow for hours on end.”
We get to the entrance of the castle, with all our original group and no extras.
A few people always try to join when they see a big group all listening to one person.
If there’s multiple groups, I always feel a bit proud that they choose me to freeload off.
They usually don’t stay with us for too long, so it’s not a big deal.
Except the one time someone tried to get on the bus with us. That was awkward.
Callum starts the tour of the castle back in the Iron Age, as there was habitation on this dormant volcano since then. He goes through its life as a royal residence and military barracks, cataloguing its twenty-six sieges, making it the most attacked site in the United Kingdom.
He really is good at this part of the job.
He’s so knowledgeable that I actually learn a thing or two, and I’ve been to this site over fifty times.
Not only does he know his facts, he has a way of weaving in his own analysis that is always so smart.
And he’s passionate about it, in his Callum way.
Listening to him is captivating. The more history-minded tourists (and I) are hanging on to his lecture.
But not everyone is a fan of history like us, and I see some wandering eyes. So I interject when I can with more Page Six-worthy stories, including ghosts, witchcraft accusations, a secret spy hole, and the resident elephant. After all, people need levity, too.
“How did they get an elephant here?” James asks.
“Colonialism. And a really big boat, I would imagine,” I say.
Callum is less than excited about my interruptions, just like he was when I interrupted yesterday.
But he keeps a professional demeanor through the tour.
Or what passes as professional for him, which is a lot of glowering at me from across the group of eager tourists.
But he should know that the more he glares, the more used to it I get, and the less impact it has.
I don’t think he would appreciate the reminder.
The group perks up over the walking tour, especially when I stop them for the best picture-taking places, both of the castle grounds and the city below.
The first time I stop, Callum stands behind me while I have about ten cameras and phones thrust at me as the group rushes to assume the position for taking photos.
“This is wasting time; they don’t need five different versions of the same photo with a slightly different group and different poses.
We have a lot of ground to cover here at this site.
They should take one photo and keep it moving,” Callum whispers from behind me.
Close enough that I can feel his breath on me.
The words should make me mad, but his closeness has goose bumps breaking out on the nape of my neck.
For the most inappropriate man. What gives?
“They don’t need to know everything about the castle. They do need to have a few photos, and to be in the photos, so they can remember not only what they saw, but how happy they were when they saw it. And the new friends they’re making.”
And new life partners, I mentally cross my fingers in hope, still hoping someone will make me a bridesmaid at their wedding.
I patiently take all the photos they want, in all the permutations they want, while Callum gets increasingly more impatient behind me. I refuse to look at him, and he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the seething irritation behind me.
I knew the first day went too well. Now it’s the second day and real character is being revealed—with Callum, who is less patient with me, but also the tourists when they were not happy about the early morning, despite them paying for this exact experience.
I really enjoy this job, but even jobs that are wonderful have their annoying bits. But then I look at the smiling faces through the phone screens and know I can deal with the small annoyances.
A few months from now they’ll be back at home, and maybe after a hard day at work or school, maybe after some personal issues come up, they can look at this photo on their desk, or popping up as a photo memory on their phone, and I hope they smile, feeling better remembering a good moment on vacation.
Or maybe it’ll be a magnet on a fridge or a souvenir pen on their desk that they see, and they’ll remember their fun times.
“We’re done now.” I turn to smile at the storm cloud behind me after I hand the last camera back.
“Are you sure? I think there’s at least one combination of people you haven’t captured for posterity.”
“You know what? You’re absolutely right.
Smile.” I get out my phone and flip the camera around.
Before Callum can grouse at me some more, I snap a couple of pictures of us with the castle and then I move to the other side of him and change the angle so the city is our backdrop.
One photo is of Callum looking irritated and another is him, mouth open, mid-complaint.
Ah, the memories. I’ll look back on this and feel some sort of way, I’m sure.
Callum winds up for a lecture, but I cut him off. “We better get going, Callum. There’s still so much to cover before the lunch break.”
Storm Cloud glares at me some more, but an efficient glare, and soon he’s back to leading the group. Because we do have a lot to see.
I interrupt the tour multiple times for the good stories and more picture breaks, and somehow Callum manages to restrain himself from grabbing one of the Lochaber axes in the Great Hall and chasing me around the castle hill to shut me up.
He does still send me looks that are meant to feel like a blow from an axe, but if he thinks a look is going to deter me, he must not realize that I am a tour guide who has led too many disgruntled tourists to be affected by a mere look.
If I was, I would be defeated every last morning of the tour, when everyone is exhausted from too much fun, but there’s still one more walking tour to go.
Instead, I smile even wider to counter his glares, which only irritates him more.
Finally, the tour is over, and we release the group for a lunch/afternoon break.
When the last person is heading down the hill, after getting last-minute directions and recommendations, I cut off Callum before he can yell at me.
“Do you want to go to the Witchery for lunch? I know it’s not a casual meal, but I never get to go because I’m not at a place in my life where I can eat by myself in a restaurant.
I’m working on it, though. And I haven’t exactly had the time to make friends here in Edinburgh who could come with me. ”
His face is more deer caught in headlights than I would prefer for someone I asked to spend time with me, but at least it’s not angry anymore. “Oh. But how do you eat on tour?”
“I get takeout and take it back to the hotel or find a park. Picnicking by myself feels different than a restaurant. It’s a whole thing. So, do you want to come with?”
“I guess we’ve still got a lot to cover, with how we’re going to split up the work. I don’t want the tour to suffer.”
“A working lunch. Think we can get it comped?” I joke since Rob is so tight with money, he would never let us dine out at a fancy restaurant.
Or even expense a chippy. Or even a pasty on the go.
I say it even though I know Callum is allergic to the very concept of joking.
True to form, he looks uncomfortable and wary, like he’s worried I’m going to grade him on his reaction.
I take pity on him and turn, walking to the restaurant, not waiting to see if he’ll actually come with me. Guess there’s a good chance I might eat alone in a restaurant today whether I’m emotionally prepared for it or not.