As I have mentioned before, being a lifeguard allows you the power of invisibility. A lot of people are envious of this super hero power that I have so easily obtained: and you should be. My invisible bubble can only be used during time of great need: while on the stand. Sitting in the chair that is so supreme and high above the lowly patrons, is an honor. This invisible bubble lasts in 25 minute intervals and can only be penetrated in three, very specific, ways.
1. If my whistle is blown. I try to keep a low profile on stand, observing the patrons with a watchful and keen eye. All my senses are at their utmost high (you are allowed to laugh at this). But when my silence is broken and the shrill, distinct sound of my whistle is heard throughout the land: then it is time to make my presence known. Heads snap to lock in on my location, as wide-eyed children wait to find out who is the culprit. After my victim receives their lashing of breaking one of the many rules, I resume my invisible bubble and stand guard.
2. Conscious realization that I am there. Topics of conversation always very. My shock at the most crude remarks remains hidden under my dark-tinted glasses. They can't see who I am observing, and I like it that way. But when that poor soul talks about things that NO ONE would want to overhear, they sometimes realize their mistake. Although I may not be on the same level as them, the sound DOES travel. And it travels far and clear. They are then quick to apologize loudly in my directions for their crude remarks or stories. I merely smile, wave and hope that they will learn to keep their voices down.
A few weeks ago I was working a pool party (one of the many perks) and could distinctly hear the rude comments that three teenie-bopper girls were saying...about me! They were a good ways across the pool, but their mouths were facing me and the remarks were crystal clear. They laughed at my looks, the way I dressed and the fact that I was bundled up head to foot in sweats (due to the fact that it was about 60 degrees and windy). I gave them an obvious stare, not taking my eyes off the loud-mouthed, leader of the group. When they saw my stare, my invisibilty bubble still remained in tact, for they assumed that I was deaf. Their remarks "Omg! She is like staring at us right now. Omg. She can like see me!" Smart ones, they were.
3. Validation for water temperature. Children seem to be unaffected by harsh temperatures of water. Rain or shine, they head for the frigid waters with a giant leap, then plunge. There are no seconds thoughts. Mothers seem to take to the water quite differently. They gingerly place one leg into the water, while gripping the hot metal railing. Their mouths form the shape of an "O" and they suck in a quick breath in attempts to convince themseleves that it isn't so bad after all. That is when I come into play. They like to look up at me, in hopes that I might give them consolidation for the water that their children are forcing them into. I feel no pity. They act as though I know what they are going through. But truthfully, I have only been into the pool maybe 5 times the entire summer. Both on occasions that it was so brutally hot, that the difference between the amount of sweat or the amount of lukewarm water, really made no difference. So instead of me trying to coax them through their painful experience, I just smile and nod as they say "Oh my, this IS cold." Tell me, what do you want me to do?
There is the story of the invisible bubble. Maybe it might stick with me after I leave the stand...but I doubt it.
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