The clerks who work on the side of Mount Zugspitze enjoy free dental care. But it's less a perk and more an apology, for what the job will do to your teeth.
Clerking is, somewhat unexpectedly, an outdoor role—and up here, the air is thin. You're best advised to save your breath, walking slowly and deliberately, and jumping only when absolutely necessary. Because sooner or later, you'll run short of oxygen, and when you do, you'll need to bite down on a canister—breaking the glass and releasing that sweet, life-giving high directly into your mouth. Your clerk grunts in pain as his molars push against the brittle cylinder, until it cracks. Suddenly, he's spitting blood and shards from between his lips. "We get used to it," says your line manager, Mo. Only he doesn't say it—he writes the message on a scrap of paper. Another breath saved.
