It’s Time to Throw In the Towel--and Pick Up Another
Midlife crisis No. 246:
I spent last weekend at the La Jolla Beach & Tennis Club, visiting some vacationing friends. For 48 hours, decision-making was limited to whether we should be poolside or oceanside and, in the evenings, whether we wanted hot dogs or hamburgers on the grill.
On Sunday morning, one of my friends’ children chipped a tooth on a kayak and another one bloodied her toe on the cement. Not even those mini-crises could spoil the mood. When the sight of blood spilling out of young children doesn’t bother you, you can be fairly confident you’re in Paradise.
Under the anesthetizing power of the early afternoon sun, I sat poolside and let my thoughts alternately drift out to sea or up into the neighboring pines. I imagined the same scene 60 years ago--parents and children basking in luxuriance. I pictured men in white trousers and straw hats lounging on the deck chairs, and women in muslin and sashes laughing gaily as their children frolicked in the pool. I conjured the faint cries of someone from any of the dozen adjoining tennis courts, saying, “I believe that ball was out, old sock!”
The hands on the pool clock trudged around the dial in comforting slow motion. In a life where hours and days churn furiously, time was trying to stand still.
At that precise moment, the thought occurred that I should become a towel boy.
I had seen them around the grounds and become increasingly envious. From what I could tell, their duties consisted of passing guests and saying, “Good morning, sir” or “Lovely day, madam,” all the while armed with a supply of freshly laundered towels.
I felt very strongly I could handle that job.
I began obsessing. OK, the job would require a pay cut. I imagined some people being disdainful that I had given up all this to become a towel boy, but it was funny how quickly that passed. Am I curing the sick? Am I altering the course of human events? Am I really all that indispensable?
We grow up thinking we must make money. What most of us really want, of course, is freedom. As we strive for money, we lose freedom. We work indoors. We take orders. We tell ourselves we’re doing important work and subject ourselves to pressure. And at day’s end, we still worry that we’re not accomplishing enough.
Back at work last week, I called the front desk at the Beach & Tennis Club to ask about the job.
Within minutes, Human Resources had faxed me a two-page job description for the position of “Beach Crew Attendant.” It said the attendant reports to the Beach Crew Supervisor and is a nonexempt employee. The work shifts vary and the salary grade is 6.
The job summary was as follows: “Provides service to guests on the beach and in the pool area.”
I tried to imagine doing that the rest of my life. I could.
Next, “Essential Duties and Responsibilities:”
* Sets up, monitors and maintains beach and pool area.
* Delivers beach equipment as needed and assists with removing/taking down beach equipment and storing it at the end of the day as assigned.
* Sets up BBQs, tables, chairs and umbrellas.
* Provides quality service to guests that meets or exceeds expectations.
* Maintains towel inventory.
* Anticipates customer needs and provides services accordingly.
The fax then identified job qualifications and working conditions. The position calls for less than a high school education (overqualified?), communication skills, reasoning ability, basic math skills, an outgoing personality and a first-aid and CPR certificate.
The physical demands didn’t sound extravagant. Aside from normal functions, employees are “frequently required to climb or balance, stoop, kneel, crouch or crawl. The employee is occasionally required to taste or smell.”
In addition, “the employee must frequently lift and/or move up to 25 pounds and occasionally lift and/or move up to 50 pounds. Specific vision abilities required by this job include close vision, distance vision, peripheral vision, and the ability to adjust focus.”
The job was as I had imagined. I phoned Sara in Human Resources. She said the Grade 6 pay scale translated to $5.75 an hour. Yes, she said, you could get a 40-hour week during peak season. I asked what the, um, average age of the attendants was, and she said 18 to 25. Of course, she pointed out, there is no age requirement other than being at least 18.
“Do you have anyone as old as 45?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “We don’t really get anyone applying for a job paying $5.75 an hour who’s fully grown.”
Ouch.
I suppose Sara was trying to let me down easy. Obviously, I have some thinking to do.
The bad news is I’d be an oddball among my own peers.
The good news is, Sara says they’re hiring.
*
Dana Parsons’ columns appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by writing to him at the Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or calling (714) 966-7821.