Job Benefits

Throughout my career I’ve had to deal with challenging individuals. I’ve handled drunks and obnoxious people who thought they owned the track because they had a two dollar winner in the third. I’ve confronted backstretch staff who thought living with horses licensed them to wander any place they wanted at any time. Damn the gate. Their logic was similar to someone with a miniaturized train set in their basement rationalizing they can beat an oncoming train. Damn the gate. I’ve wrestled juvenile delinquents to the ground when they were determined to pummel another delinquent. I’ve stood in a verbal firing line when employees got upset about overtime, schedules or policy changes. My response held in check knowing later I would have address the issue behind closed doors. I’ve had a customer thrust his nose in my face and call me stupid and with the help of God and one cool co-worker stood calmly and handled it as if nothing happened when the same customer returned. Yeah, my careers have been fun. My new career as pool monitor is not going to be any different.

Yesterday there was a birthday party of a group of four year olds at the upper pool barbeque area. I wasn’t scheduled to work, but I was asked to fill in for one of the guys. Great, a kid party. I imagined the worst. Kids running all over the place, screaming, yelling, jumping off the rocks. Being boisterous is a pool conduct no-no. How do you keep kids pumped up on birthday cake, ice cream and candy at a pool birthday party from being boisterous?

I imagined unruly four-year olds terrorizing the pool deck, annoying the residents who live in the condos that surround the upper pool. Complaints from everyone. I expected the parents to tuned out their kids' behavior as they lounged in the hot tub, traded gossip and chow downed on pupus. How was I suppose to check the four-to-one kid-to-adult ratio? How was I going to rein in the choas? I went to bed the night before and had a nightmare about the party. Unruly kids make me nervous. Heck, four year olds in general make me nervous. No motherly instincts in this being.

When I entered the pool area I ran smack into a sea of Hello Kitty pink. It was everywhere. Cupcakes stacked on three tiered pedestals. Thin plastic table cloths draped over picnic tables. Balloons tethered to the cabana dancing in the late morning breeze. A small army of adults busied themselves with adding more balloons to the decor and hanging a Disney castle piñata. I eyed a shiny blue bat and decided that most of my day would be tied up with keeping a tight check on this scene. I remembered my nightmare. Did anyone drown?

Carrying a clipboard I circled the pool, greeted the patrons and asked them for their pool passes. Made some small talk. Wrote numbers down. I waited for one young kid in his late teens to get off his phone. Then I stepped toward him.

“Pool pass?” I had pen in hand ready to record his number. I thought about the days when there was nothing more dangerous than a lieutenant with a clipboard and pen in hand. The army.

“What?”

“You got your pool pass with you?” I couldn't see his eyes behind his shades.

“Ah, I’m staying in DD.” His thumb was tossed over his shoulder. I let my eyes follow.

“Yep. Okay. Got your pool pass?”

“Um. I got to have it? It’s at the place.” He turned his head in that same direction his thumb had gone. Consistent

“Got to have your pool pass.” I persist as nonchalantly as possible. I shift my weight from one foot the the other.

“Now?”

I was tempted to say, “No tomorrow.” But I’m still the new pool monitor. I know patrons are watching. I’ve heard the comments, “there’s the woman.” I must ask. Has there ever been a woman pool monitor before? Instead I say,“Yep. Got to go get it, if you want to stay.” Realizing I wasn’t going away anytime soon, he picked his lanky body off the lounge chair and strolled off toward the gate. Never saw him again.

Once I checked everyone in I enter the period of time where I challenge myself not to go crazy. Killing five hours without playing Angry Birds. I mean killing. I could organize chairs, scoop debris out of the pool, check spa temperatures, clean the bathrooms, polish the drinking fountains, empty trashcans, clean grills, sweep the parking lot…but the truth is most days everything is in pretty good order. So I tackled the three sets of large sliding glass doors at the community center with Windex. Very slowly and paying meticulous attention to every smear, smug and streak I GIed every window in the place. Meanwhile, the children gathered. Quietly gathered.

I expected the worst. Occasionally, I reminded a boisterous tot that there was no running or jumping into the pool. Once, four adults gathered poolside to dangle feet in the pool while they chowed-down on cake and sipped on soda. I informed them that food and drink had to be kept in the barbeque area. They apologized and retreated. A few minutes later, as I was admiring yet another shiny window, Birthday Mom came over and apologized for her invited guest. "No problem", I said. Thank you.

The rest of the afternoon moved slowly toward the moment of piñata smashing. Everyone watched the shy kids take four whacks a piece at the Disney castle. As the party wrapped up I heard one guy tell his wife to fix a plate for me. Flashbacks to Micronesia and my Peace Corps experience. There everyone leaves a party carrying more food than they brought. It defies physics, but the phenomenon always proved true. Yesterday afternoon, I came home with a Hello Kitty cupcake, a bag of popcorn and four seaweed wrapped rice thingies. Local food. Job benefits.