Lem'me esplain...
It usually starts like this. I see a dog. On the beach. I groan. I groan, not because the thought of a sudden end to my sedentary lifestyle is repugnant (i.e. get off my lazy ass). I groan because of experience. Sometimes these encounters go well. So often they do not.
Again, lem'me esplain...
A woman and her labrador enters the beach by a closed lifeguard station. Now at this point it could simply be nothing more than she missed the signs in the parking lot or on the back of the tower. In all fairness the ordinance is not particularly well posted and our agency as well as the police do very little to educate the public on this issue prior to their arrival to the beach. At this point I cut the woman some slack, but in the back of my mind lurks this, "She knows." She knows that a closed tower means no lifeguard and no lifeguard means no one to enforce the ordinance. She knows she can do whatever she wants.
So she starts her jog. She lets Jimbo off the leash and he immediately begins terrorizing the local bird population. She continues in my direction. I expel my groan, grab my can, and with a smile I walk to intercept her. What happens next will tell me everything.
Option 1: She sees me and then turns around and heads in the opposite direction. Yep, she knows, and she knows how to play the game. I'm not going to chase her down. I have water to watch and swimmer safety is far more important than running down a jogger and her Jimbo. She'll run until she encounters the next open tower and then once again reverse her field. I once had a woman play this game in between two sequentially open towers. The other guard and myself slowly walked towards each other and she shuttled back and forth like a ping pong ball until he intercepted her and sent her packing. She claimed ignorance. Her actions claimed otherwise. At least she and her pooch covered quite a distance before their day ended with a little lifeguard rain. I do believe the public sees us as the fun police.
Option 2: She continues in my direction. I interrupt her jog with a wave and the following explanation, "Unfortunately dogs are not allowed on the beach, and you will receive a costly ticket if you remain. Fortunately you are more than welcome to have them on the boardwalk." She apologizes and thanks me for the information. I pet Jimbo. She leashes him and leaves. I love option two! It makes my day easier and allows me to return to that which I value most - watching the water.
Option 3: She continues in my direction. I interrupt her jog with a wave and an explanation. She snaps, "I know!" and runs on by. Oh do I feel the love and even more so, the respect. Now in my head I retort, "Really, you do? You know? By any chance do you know my foot? My left one? Because it is about to get acquainted with your ass." But you and I both realize that if that were to make it out of my mouth and into her ears all sorts of ugliness would ensue and quite possibly my continued employment would be in question. Instead I re-emphasize my point, and she re-emphasizes hers with the added, "And what are you going to do about it?"
"Give you a hug," is, again, the thought response because it sure sounds like she could use one. Instead I mention the police and a supervisor. If she's played the game before she knows there is a good chance that neither will respond and so she continues on her jog, sharing the love with each lifeguard she encounters. If she's uncertain, she'll leave the beach at an obtuse angle traveling as far down the soft sand as possible in a final passive/aggressive swipe at me just doing my job.
I'm not a big fan of option 3.
Option 4: She continues in my direction. I interrupt her jog with a wave and an explanation. She snaps back, "What about those people? Why do they get to have a dog?" I call option four the grade school option. It brings me back to those days of third grade with the pointed finger seeking supposed fairness and attempting to deflect blame. More often than not there are no "those people" anywhere to be seen, just a long stretch beach devoid of dogs. Somehow she is convinced that I will believe her and respond, "Well, okay, if they have a dog then I guess you can have one too." She believes that I am an unmotivated pushover. She believes her bit of smoke and magic will convince me to ignore her. It doesn't. "I'll talk to them after I'm done speaking with you," I respond.
"You do that. You go and do that now," she barks as she yanks Jimbo from his investigatory snorgling.
"In a moment, but please take your dog off the beach."
"Good job," she sarcastically remarks over her shoulder adding "Dick" in that way that is designed to be soft enough to be under one's breath but loud enough for the intended to hear.
"Thank you."
Yep. First hand experience as well. We love ourselves the public.
I've been told all manner of things including, "It's not a dog. It's a boy.", "It's not mine" (said with leash and doggy bag in hand), "So...", and "You're a racist" (yes, for asking someone to take their dog off the beach). I have also been told "I'm sorry. I didn't know." I much prefer the latter. I know it seems to you, the dog owner that we have specifically singled you out to pull the plug on your day's enjoyment. If you were ignorant, I'm sympathetic. If you were not, I'm not. I'll still approach you with the hope that you'll smile, thank me for the info, and take Benji off the beach. If you do, thank you. Thank you for that little ray of sunshine. You've also smartly avoided a pricey ticket. If you don't, well what follows next is on you. And giving me the finger doesn't change the rules. Yep, I get that too.
© Copyright 2011 David S. Carpenter. All Rights Reserved.
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