Why I Was A Bad Lifeguard

In accordance with family tradition, my high school Summer job was lifeguarding at the JCC. I had no special aptitude for the Red Cross certifications beyond having a good memory and enjoying taking tests. I mention this early on to say that, while I was a bad lifeguard, it was not because I wasn’t competent. I knew how to use a backboard and recognize a stroke; I could swim for 500 uninterrupted meters and tread water for 3 minutes straight.

Thankfully, those skills never came up while I was on the job. Instead, the time I didn’t spend cleaning bathrooms was shared between yelling at kids breaking the rules and looking for rule-breakers. And there were a lot of rules. Our formidable new Aquatics Director had tamed the outdoor pool from the veritable Wild West it had been in my youth with nothing but rules and 20-odd well-trained Fox 40-wielding teenagers. During in-services, she had everyone line up and blow their whistles as loud as possible, presumably to scare the timidity out of the shyer guards.

For me, timidity alone was not the issue. I could produce an ear-splitting report on command. But only on command. Unlike the more sadistic guards, I took no pleasure in ruining kids’ fun (and innocent bystanders’ outer hair cells). I could do it easily when someone told me to blow my whistle, but not when I had to make the decision for myself. There was this conflict of interest between the part of me that wanted to do my job and the part that didn’t want to blow my whistle. One part would say, You really should whistle at that, and the other would respond Sure, but have you considered X, Y, and Z factors? and of course I hadn’t, so I would have to do that and by that time the moment had long passed.

For a concrete example, we had a rule against dunking on the basketball hoop by the edge of the pool. This rule was printed in big letters on the backboard, so it would be hard for anyone to question my authority if I enforced it. Yet a typically, I would be scanning my zone, making sure no one was drowning, then right as I turned my head I would see someone dunk on the hoop. Well that’s what it looked like, but he didn’t really hang on the rim. He barely even touched it. Anyway, I can’t call him out now; it’s been like 5 whole seconds. Oh, he did it again… well… almost.

I could come up with hundreds of reasons not to tell someone they were breaking the rules. I couldn’t whistle at someone who looked like they were about to break a rule or someone who had just finished breaking one. This person broke a very minor rule. That person was almost out of my zone (read: jurisdiction). Someone else would whistle at them. They’ll probably just stop of their own accord. They’ll get tired of it, they’ll be inspired with common sense, they’ll receive my telepathic message, or maybe they’ll even notice the disapproving glance behind my polarized sunglasses.

Again, I knew the rules, and I knew how to blow my whistle. For the most part, I even believed that the rules were good and made the pool a safer place for everyone, and that people should follow them. It’s a dangerous thing to say, but I don’t think I was oblivious either. In fact, I was probably better than average at noticing rule-breakers because I wasted so little time correcting them.

I used to try to imagine that there was another me beside my lifeguard stand. He would tell me to when to whistle, and all I would have to do was carry out the action. If I ever actually implemented this system, it must not have worked because, I never got any better about it. I probably just didn’t have the imagination for it.

I fear I’ve buried the lead here (if there even is one), and I can’t be bothered to dig it back up. Anyhow, it’s no secret that people just like to be told what to do because freedom is hard and scary. (If I were more learned and cultured, I would have linked to some Existentialist.) But Dostoevsky’s Underground Man would be quick to point out that it’s for the best that you can’t cede your freedom to another entity that shares your best interests. But unfortunately that only leaves us with entities that don’t. Or maybe fortunately? At least then when we do feel desirous of freedom that doesn’t come at the cost of rebelling against the good. Anyways, yeah, I was not a good lifeguard, but at least no one got hurt.