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So, I just got a job lifeguarding for a pair of indoor pools at the local (Name of well known non-profit organization). I've been in training for two weeks, but Friday, I finally got my first day of paid work. It's been... well... interesting:
The spawn, dear god the spawn!
So about two hours into my first shift lifeguarding, guess who shows up? The non-profit's summer camp children! Joy! Instead of getting my nice, cushy break, I get to watch these little snots hold each other under the water and play odd games, speaking of which:
You'd Have to be Pretty Damn Bored.
OK, so during the camp's swim time, I see a little kid on the bottom with his arms up above his head, resting on the surface of the water, with his face down in the position lifeguards are trained to know as: 'oh, shit, unconscious.' I was pulling out my whistle to signal to the other guard I was going in for him when I hear one of the camp councilors call out a name, which I assume was his because he straightened up, and pulled his nose out of the water. She proceeded to state, and I quote:
"I though we just told you we weren't going to play that game this year..." She continued on, but, wait, what?
Lady, I remember games, and I remember water games, and I do not remember any with a title resembling 'Screw the lifeguard,' nor any in which the object was to get spine boarded. I just can't see how this could possibly be a game.
Then again, I suppose with the declining state of the educational system, and video games that tell children exactly what to do to win, I suppose it isn't surprising they'd have trouble remembering a complex incantation such as "Red Rover, Red Rover, Send Billy on over!" on their own. I suppose I should simply count my blessings they didn't try to play "Marco, Polo," as it would have resulted in me having to go in after the kid who forgot to surface before trying to send out his portion of the acoustic ritual.
Special Needs Saturday.
Look, I don't mind helping out a few people with special needs, but the sudden onset of them on Saturday was enough to make my head spin. How can there be none of them all week, none Saturday, all day, and then they all suddenly appear, as if by magic, at 4, and are gone by 6. Was there some kind of organization behind it? If so, would you mind spreading it out across the week? I love the people you send me, but it's rather hard to help the kid in a wheelchair down the ramp to our therapy pool while simultaneously figuring out how to help the man with both turrets and a speech impediment. Again, I love them both, but it's annoying to handle both at once.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.
Here's the situation, you're in a five foot deep pool that's meant for therapeutic use. You are surrounded by low, under the surface walls, ballet beams, soccer moms doing aerobics with special pool weights, and small children having their first swim lessons. You have decided doing laps of the backstroke is a good idea. When I come and explain to you that it is against the rules, you get smart with me, and tell me that you've been doing it for a year and nobody has ever stopped you before.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
I'm guarding a water aerobics class this afternoon at said therapeutic pool, when I notice at least three of the people involved are wearing street shoes in our pool. The instructor is one of them.
But... Why... How... Who... God. Just Eww.
Thanks, I Was Wondering About That.
This one belongs in cursing out co-workers, but oh, well.
So, I walked in on Saturday Morning, and had to go to the therapeutic pool to guard. I relieved co-worker N. N is off-duty now, he can go take a shower and go home, and leave me to my fifteen minutes of sitting in a small room next to an 89 degree pool with air from outside being vented in to help cool the place down despite the fact that said outdoor air is currently approximately 94.
Instead, N decides to explain to me, in excruciating scientific detail I haven't heard since my ninth grade earth science teacher explained how 'The Day After Tomorrow' was impossible, how the smell, which he referred to as 'the nastiness,' coming off the pool was caused by patrons not showering. This took ten minutes.
Gee, thanks for that, N. That was truly a scientific conundrum equal in difficulty to my 12th grade physics final, which included questions such as 'Which of the Physics teachers would be the most fun to duct tape to a roof?' (I did not make that up. It was on the test.) I never would have figured out that the unwashed part of the term 'the unwashed masses' was what was causing said 'nastiness.'
I really hope they don't make them like they used to anymore.
I am fully aware that, as upper class housing goes, mine is relatively new at approximately 25-30 years old. However, I'd like to point out that in the hour since I got home from my shift, I've killed four spiders, all different colors ad sizes. I'm relatively certain that there is a great mother black widow, who is approximately my size, cuddled up in our nice, dark, damp hot water heater, as it has been groaning like a beast in labor for weeks now. I would be afraid of this, but on the off chance I have to do battle with this creature, my father has a hatchet and a miner's pick in the lower garage with the hot water heater, so I'm relatively certain I'll be able to do at least 1d6 lethal damage. Hopefully the -4 penalty for using a ranged weapon in melee, or a non-weapon for battle won't literally kill me.
Hopefully I won't have much more to tell you later.
The spawn, dear god the spawn!
So about two hours into my first shift lifeguarding, guess who shows up? The non-profit's summer camp children! Joy! Instead of getting my nice, cushy break, I get to watch these little snots hold each other under the water and play odd games, speaking of which:
You'd Have to be Pretty Damn Bored.
OK, so during the camp's swim time, I see a little kid on the bottom with his arms up above his head, resting on the surface of the water, with his face down in the position lifeguards are trained to know as: 'oh, shit, unconscious.' I was pulling out my whistle to signal to the other guard I was going in for him when I hear one of the camp councilors call out a name, which I assume was his because he straightened up, and pulled his nose out of the water. She proceeded to state, and I quote:
"I though we just told you we weren't going to play that game this year..." She continued on, but, wait, what?
Lady, I remember games, and I remember water games, and I do not remember any with a title resembling 'Screw the lifeguard,' nor any in which the object was to get spine boarded. I just can't see how this could possibly be a game.
Then again, I suppose with the declining state of the educational system, and video games that tell children exactly what to do to win, I suppose it isn't surprising they'd have trouble remembering a complex incantation such as "Red Rover, Red Rover, Send Billy on over!" on their own. I suppose I should simply count my blessings they didn't try to play "Marco, Polo," as it would have resulted in me having to go in after the kid who forgot to surface before trying to send out his portion of the acoustic ritual.
Special Needs Saturday.
Look, I don't mind helping out a few people with special needs, but the sudden onset of them on Saturday was enough to make my head spin. How can there be none of them all week, none Saturday, all day, and then they all suddenly appear, as if by magic, at 4, and are gone by 6. Was there some kind of organization behind it? If so, would you mind spreading it out across the week? I love the people you send me, but it's rather hard to help the kid in a wheelchair down the ramp to our therapy pool while simultaneously figuring out how to help the man with both turrets and a speech impediment. Again, I love them both, but it's annoying to handle both at once.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.
Here's the situation, you're in a five foot deep pool that's meant for therapeutic use. You are surrounded by low, under the surface walls, ballet beams, soccer moms doing aerobics with special pool weights, and small children having their first swim lessons. You have decided doing laps of the backstroke is a good idea. When I come and explain to you that it is against the rules, you get smart with me, and tell me that you've been doing it for a year and nobody has ever stopped you before.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
I'm guarding a water aerobics class this afternoon at said therapeutic pool, when I notice at least three of the people involved are wearing street shoes in our pool. The instructor is one of them.
But... Why... How... Who... God. Just Eww.
Thanks, I Was Wondering About That.
This one belongs in cursing out co-workers, but oh, well.
So, I walked in on Saturday Morning, and had to go to the therapeutic pool to guard. I relieved co-worker N. N is off-duty now, he can go take a shower and go home, and leave me to my fifteen minutes of sitting in a small room next to an 89 degree pool with air from outside being vented in to help cool the place down despite the fact that said outdoor air is currently approximately 94.
Instead, N decides to explain to me, in excruciating scientific detail I haven't heard since my ninth grade earth science teacher explained how 'The Day After Tomorrow' was impossible, how the smell, which he referred to as 'the nastiness,' coming off the pool was caused by patrons not showering. This took ten minutes.
Gee, thanks for that, N. That was truly a scientific conundrum equal in difficulty to my 12th grade physics final, which included questions such as 'Which of the Physics teachers would be the most fun to duct tape to a roof?' (I did not make that up. It was on the test.) I never would have figured out that the unwashed part of the term 'the unwashed masses' was what was causing said 'nastiness.'
I really hope they don't make them like they used to anymore.
I am fully aware that, as upper class housing goes, mine is relatively new at approximately 25-30 years old. However, I'd like to point out that in the hour since I got home from my shift, I've killed four spiders, all different colors ad sizes. I'm relatively certain that there is a great mother black widow, who is approximately my size, cuddled up in our nice, dark, damp hot water heater, as it has been groaning like a beast in labor for weeks now. I would be afraid of this, but on the off chance I have to do battle with this creature, my father has a hatchet and a miner's pick in the lower garage with the hot water heater, so I'm relatively certain I'll be able to do at least 1d6 lethal damage. Hopefully the -4 penalty for using a ranged weapon in melee, or a non-weapon for battle won't literally kill me.
Hopefully I won't have much more to tell you later.
Shame! They eat mosquitoes! 
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