Morphing into my new identity as a recent graduate has not been easy. Finding a real job has been hard enough. Despite my adamant thoughts of NEVER going back to work as a lifeguard, here I am with the familiar, one-piece suit and whistle tan line. Yes, I still LOOK like the 18 year-old guard from way back when, but as I age, I curse myself as I climb those burning hot steps to my doom: the stand.
I work at two very small neighborhood pools. Never will the word "classy" be used to describe these holes in the ground. I make do with the lack of supplies, tiles falling off the side and bathrooms that continue to fall apart. I will spare the details for now. This morning I mentally prepared for a long eight-hour day at the world's smallest pool. Armed with two gallons of ice water, two towels and my fancy sunglasses, I turned the key to the pad lock that would hold me captive for the rest of the day.
Some claim that life guarding is too "boring" for them and they can't stand sitting in a chair for more than an hour. I completely understand where these young folks are coming from. The trick is not to try to entertain yourself, but let the entertainment come to you.
The day begins in frustration while I try to vacuum a pool that does not want to be clean. It rejects every ounce of dirt that I suck into the pump, spitting it back out into the murky waters with a force that I dare not reckon with. I give up after 15 minutes, throwing the vacuum pole down in disgust and just dare someone to complain. I pick up my next task quickly. The ducks and crows of the world love to make their 'messes' right on the edge of the pool. What else can you do but clean it every morning. I did make an effort to squirt the incoming crow with the hose as it flew in. I think it got the message. But during the day i found that other crows like to carry the same habit. They somehow find other bird poop, fly with it in their mouths and drop it off at the side of the pool! Bird brains. I still can't figure out why.
I settle myself into the plastic lawn chair awaiting for the arrival of the troops. They trickle in family by family. Some come in, some more leave. It is a constant cycle that I know will remain until the closing hour. They overlap just enough with their arrival times so that I can't pick up my book that I have been dying to read. No poolside reading for me today.
This pool seems to attract every single-mother smoker from miles around. Or maybe they all had their convention in the condos next door. They let their children loose in the pool, not caring whether they sink or swim. That is my job. Today was two boys with mothers who fit this exact image. Jackson and Aaden Arthur (yes I know his middle name). Jackson knew his limits on how far he could go and stayed within those boundaries despite his mother's lack of attention. Aaden, on the other hand, could care less where his boundaries where. Armed with a bright red life jacket he bobbed his way around the pool traveling from three feet to five. I knew this meant trouble. Aaden decided to be a "big boy" and rip that life jacket off. As he ventured toward the water once again, my lifeguard instinct kicked in. I knew it would happen before he even put his baby toe into the water. As he walked along the underwater ledge, he walked right off into the depths that swallowed him whole. His young, single mother was busy texting on her phone, working on her tan. I jumped in, shorts and all, saving the small child from his inpending doom. The screams of "Aaden" were followed by his mother lazily walking over to grab her son and throw his puffy vest back on. What lesson was learned?
I saw another mother, cookie-cutter of the last, sat and drank beer until her heart was content. Either that or until her bladder could hold no more. As she made her way to the bathroom for the third time in 30 minutes she "whooped" like a college girl claiming that she was "Oh, so drunk." Great for her seven year old son, Austin Michael (she said his name like a curse at least 30 times) who just wanted to play catch with someone. I was two minutes from indulging the poor kid in some fun before he was forced out of the water and back to his room.
I don't know what kind of mother I will be, but I definitely know I refuse to end up like these lovely ladies. Their pool side chatter is that of parties, alcohol, horrible, drunken baby daddies and how they will never have another child as long as they live.
Many lessons learned in a very long day.
