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Descriptive Essay About Lifeguards

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Fifteen minutes. That’s one stand rotation at the pool. I climb up the white, grooved ladder rungs of the lifeguard stand. One, two, three, turn around, sit down. I slip off my shoes, exposing the painfully obvious tan lines on my feet. With the rescue tube strap tossed over my head and arm, and the tube resting on my lap, ready to go, I bring the red whistle to my mouth. A shrill, rolling sound is released: a signal to every family in the neighborhood that the day has officially begun. The pool is open. The first fifteen minutes.
The relentless sun of two summers’ of work has faded away the thrilling newness of climbing up the lifeguard stand. My first day on the job, I relished the climb, overwhelmed by responsibility and glory. Fifteen minutes flew by that day. Growing up, the lifeguards at my neighborhood pool were viewed as celebrities by the younger kids. My friends and I admired how incredibly cool and intimidating they were. Their lifeguard stands, in our eyes, were thrones. But now that I’m on the other side of it, I laugh at the thought of lifeguards being “cool” or “intimidating.” I’m neither of those things. And the stand? It’s nothing special. I just do my job: I sit, perched on a wobbly plastic chair on stilts, monitoring the happenings of the pool for hours on end.
Even with the umbrella strapped to the stand, the heat is unbearable. The tangible heaviness of the hot air calls for prayers for even the slightest breeze. Excruciating hotness of the day causes

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