What is a lifeguard? According to the dictionary, “a lifeguard is a trained professional employed at a beach, swimming pool, or water park to ensure the safety of swimmers and rescue those in distress.”
But the public has their own ideas about what a lifeguard should do.
Some people treat us like babysitters. Just the other day, two moms sat near the chair, four children between the ages of 5 and 10 with them. The small children ran into the water, and both moms stayed under their umbrella, sitting facing the boardwalk. The kids were getting stuck in a rip, ignoring our whistles, until a walker went into the water to tell them to move.
I asked the moms if the kids were theirs, and they hadn’t even known they were in the water, so I told them they should be watching the kids in the water. One mom said, “I thought you were supposed to be watching them.”
We’re always watching, but kids are much safer when parents are watching too, or at the very least reminding them to listen to the lifeguards. It’s impossible for us to know a child’s swimming ability, whether they’re allowed to go in the water, or if they have a medical condition, but parents know. The number of times we’ve asked kids where their parents are, and they’ve been nowhere near the water would be too hard to count.
Lots of people think we carry all beach day necessities on hand. People have asked if we lend out or sell bathing suits, towels, sunscreen, boogie boards, t-shirts, and more. Plenty of people like to hand us broken glass or garbage they find on the beach, too, despite the trash cans being a short walk from the chair.
Other people on the beach think we’re meteorologists, or even psychics. “When’s the rain going to stop?” and “How strong is the sun today?” are popular. Then, when it comes to clearing the water for sharks, someone inevitably asks “When are the sharks going to leave?”
Some beachgoers seem convinced we’re police officers. At 135 Shack, patrons chastise guards for not putting a stop to jet skis coming so close to shore. At 97 Shack, patrons run up to the chair, point to someone on the shoreline, and yell, “That guy has a knife!”
Then there’s always a few people who, for some reason, make us their sworn enemies. The sound of the whistle makes them see red, they curse us out for trying to move them out of rip currents and are personally offended by our ropes and poles around the chair. Make a rescue, you’re everyone’s hero. Blow a whistle to try and prevent one, they want to burn you at the stake.
And at least one person out there thinks we’re oranges. Yes, just like the fruit. I was walking down the beach in my full orange get up, and a teenage boy almost ran into me. He stopped short, said “Excuse me, you orange,” and continued running. I was too confused to respond.
Recently, I’ve seen a petition circulating to recognize California lifeguards as official first responders, giving them the pay and benefits that come with the title. Like many lifeguards, I think there’s a strong argument for it.
Maybe that’s because, on any given day, we’re expected to be babysitters, meteorologists, police officers, lifeguards, EMTs, therapists, lost-and-found attendants, garbage collectors, and as of last week, even oranges.
But beneath the jokes, a lifeguard’s responsibility is to prevent emergencies before they happen and respond when they do. If that doesn’t fit the definition of “first responder,” I’m not sure what does.
