My Inner Wendy Peffercorn

I guess it’s true that doing any one thing for a significant length of time will inevitably leave you with some habits. Well, my one thing that I did for a significant length of time (7 years to be exact) was lifeguarding. Now, the lifeguarding you see in the movies and lifeguarding in real life are two very different things; sure, I had my moments of adrenaline where I pulled a kid out of the pool who had drifted a little too deep, and I even called 911 once when a kid banged his head and couldn’t feel his toes. But the vast majority of my lifeguarding experience can be summed up in one word: “WALK!” If I had a penny for every time I told a kid to walk, I’d be swimming in a sea of copper. I never thought much about this until after my third year of lifeguarding. I was at the mall with some friends and we were talking and walking and having a grand old time, when, all of a sudden, a young child bolted past me. Without pausing, hesitating, or even consciously realizing what was going on, I immediately called out, “WALK!” Wow. And that was it. That was the moment I realized that a certain inner part of me, some quiet piece of my soul, was and always would be a lifeguard. Well, as time continued on its jolly way, I continued to hone my skills at biting my tongue and holding myself back whenever the unexpected impulses arose in any given situation: a child running around a playground at a park; a youth racing to catch a bus; a parent rushing to grab something they forgot. Walk, WALK, WALK!!!!

Eventually, I got to the point where I no longer had to stop myself. In fact, I wouldn’t even think twice when I saw someone running by. Aha! I had come off conqueror—I had broken the habit of 7 years to tell someone to walk when they were running. But my pride celebrated my victory prematurely. Indeed, this very day, as a 22-year-old super-senior college student who had long-ago ended their lifeguarding days, I had a relapse. I was walking through campus today, and another full-grown adult college student came pounding towards me. Without stopping, hesitating, or even thinking, my lips parted, my mouth opened, and just as the first sound emerged from my throat I realized, “WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING???” In the nick of time, and with only a slightly awkward guttural noise, I smoothly opened my mouth even wider and turned the whole embarrassing situation into a very believable yawn, if I do say so myself. So, I guess I’m not as much of a conqueror as I thought I was—and now I’ll believe them when they say old habits die hard.

--Heather