(I teach young kids how to swim. After the last group, I change into my clothes and wait in the hall for my ride. I spot a few kids from my group and overhear them.)

Kid #1: “Are you wearing your pajamas?!”

Kid #2: “Yes.”

Kid #1: “What are you, a baby?”

(Mind you, the kid is about six years old. The other kids start laughing. Having been bullied most of my youth, I can’t stand this behavior, but I also have a responsibility as a teacher to not just scream what I want to scream. I take a gamble.)

Me: “Well, I think it’s efficient!”

Kid #3: “What’s efficient?”

Me: “Well, [Kid #2] is very smart. By changing into her pajamas here, she doesn’t have to change at home. She saves a lot of time.”

Kid #1: “So?”

Me: “The time she saves by undressing and dressing again, she can now spend hanging out with her parents or watching TV. This way, she can stay up a little bit longer!”

(The group fell silent, and their parents picked them up. I wondered if my words had even helped. The next week, three more children were wearing pajamas after the lesson, and [Kid #1] screamed at his mother he wanted to wear his pajamas, too. Guess I set a trend?)

When I was ten years old, the summer program I attended went on a field trip to a local indoor waterpark. I tried using a feature where one walked across on lily-pad-like flotation devices while also using a net above, but ended up slipping off and getting trapped underneath one of them.

The worst part was that the lifeguard — nor anyone else, for that matter — seemed not to notice, and the other kids continued to walk on the lily pads, despite my predicament. After what felt like forever, I freed myself, but due to embarrassment, I said nothing about it and went to do something else.

Ten minutes later, the summer program staff announced we were going back to the site early — we’d been there for only an hour — due to inattentive lifeguards, which made me wonder what else had happened, since none of them asked if I was okay.

I am working as a pool monitor. I’m a 5’4” woman who weighs 180 pounds on a good day. The pool is five feet deep, with no lifeguard. Signs are everywhere saying so.

A lady and a ten-year-old boy show up. He immediately gets in while the lady sets down her stuff and starts talking to her friends. Nobody is paying attention to the kid. She continues talking to her friends and he starts wading to the middle of the pool — the deep part in this particular pool — and all of a sudden he’s jumping up and down with his hands up in the air. He’s drowning. The look on his face as he looks around for help while bobbing just out of safety’s reach still pops into my head.

It’s a good thing I’m paying attention, as I jump into the pool and drag this kid, who weighs as much as me, to the shallow end.

After dragging him out and telling him to sit for a bit before I teach him how to swim, the lady thanks me and tells me she thought he was playing! She wasn’t even watching him!

I realise that I’ll have to teach the kids in the neighborhood to swim… along with a few of the parents!

(I work as a lifeguard at a local pool. There is a little boy, about three years old, in the deep end. I wouldn’t be bothered by this, as I passed the test to swim in the deep end when I was only four; however, I have watched him struggle to swim to his mother from the edge, five feet away.)

Me: *calls the boy over, being very polite, and keeping a smile on my face the entire time* “Hey, bub, I don’t think you’re a strong enough swimmer to be in the deep end right now; why don’t you practice a bit more and take the test again?”

Boy: *goes to his mom* “She says I can’t be in the deep end.”

Mom: *holds her now crying child and yells at me* “He passed his test; he can be in the deep end, idiot!”

(My boss, who didn’t see what happened, walks out. They begin to talk, the mom raising her voice a bit.)

Mom: “This is embarrassing, but that girl says [Boy] can’t be in the deep end!”

Boss: “Oh.” *to me* “He passed his test, [My Name].”

(I explain what actually happened. He tells me he’ll talk to the other boss. The other guard talks to me and tells me that’s the same little boy that he pulled out of the pool last year. He tells me that I was right; we switch chairs, as I am crying from being yelled at and the stress of the kid. Twenty minutes after the break is over, the boy has to be pulled from the pool.)

Mom: *while my coworker is pulling the drowning kid out* “He’s fine; he’s okay. Don’t touch him!”

Coworker: “He was drowning.” *to the boy* “Get out for five minutes, and catch your breath, okay, bub?

(The mom grabs her child’s hand and storms over to my other boss, keeping her voice low but glaring at both my coworker and me now and then. I can only hear bits and pieces, but she asks why we are being rude — when both of us were very polite — and being mean to her son. My boss says simply:)

Boss #2: “If that’s what they think, then he shouldn’t be in the deep end. They just had to pull him out.”

(They left, and I didn’t see them for about a month. My mom saw the boy’s name on the swim lessons list: level-one swim lessons for kids who can’t swim.)

(I work as a lifeguard for a subdivision pool. It’s a quiet job and usually uneventful. To have access to the pool, the subdivision members pay a fee to their homeowners’ association. The association then issues the members keys which are scanned to unlock the front gate. The association has hired the company that I work for to supply lifeguards during pool hours. The lifeguards have no control over the workings of the keys and have been told strictly by our supervisors and the HOA that the lifeguards are not allowed to let anyone in if their card is not working. Usually members who cannot get in understand and go talk to the HOA, but not everyone is as polite. One woman and her small child, no older than five, come to the gate and, after struggling to open the gate, call me over. I can’t easily leave my post as the lifeguard, since I am the only person working, so I try to talk to her from my stand. My back is to her, so this is difficult.)

Woman: “Hey, can you open the gate for me? My brand-new card isn’t working.”

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am, I cannot. I have been told by my supervisor, the lifeguard company, and the subdivision HOA that I am not allowed to open the gate for anyone whose card is not working. You will have to talk to someone involved in the HOA about the faulty key.”

Woman: “Come on! I just got this card yesterday! It’s not my fault it isn’t working; just let me in!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I’m only allowed to watch and protect the pool area.”

Woman: “And what am I supposed to tell my daughter? I promised her we would go swimming today!”

(I look at the child, who seems uncomfortable with the temper tantrum her mother is throwing.)

Me: “I would tell her you can’t get in because the key isn’t working and that you are going to talk to the HOA to fix the problem.”

Woman: *talking to her child* “Let’s go, sweetie! WE CAN’T GO SWIMMING TODAY BECAUSE THIS B**** WON’T LET US IN!”

(She drives away, and I happily go sit at my stand with my back to the gate. About forty minutes later, I hear the gate unlock, and the same mother-daughter duo have come back. The woman lets out an uncomfortable laugh before saying:)

Woman: “So funny. I actually grabbed my old key from last summer instead of the new one I was issued.”

(I just sat there waiting for her to say something else, but no apology was ever given to me.)