I feel this blog is my room on the internet. Much like my actual room, there are not a lot of people who come and spend time there besides dear friends or roomies. But yesterday there was a big, bad internet bully that hacked into the server and put a Portuguese political rant up and destroyed my room. It’s a good think that the “guy in the computer” worked his magic and fixed everything back. Regardless, it felt like someone vandalized my little world in cyberspace.
As most of you know, I work at the YMCA as a lifeguard to supplement my income. I was recently “re-hired” at the Maryland Farms YMCA (MFY). They have come up with a new policy that everyone hired must take a staff tour of the facilities. This is a reasonable requirement, as the MFY is one of the largest and most confusing gym facilities in the United States (I have not been in a gym outside of the US), it has a plethora of split levels and hallways that lead to nowhere. The pools are quite remarkable. There is an 50 yard pool outside with 2 slides, a 0 entry kids pool equipped with slides, water sprays, and water falling from huge and small buckets and a 25 yard indoor pool. All very impressive.
After a year of working in a gym, no matter how confusing, impressive, or large, one learns their way around, therefore as a re-hire I found it surprising that I needed to take the facilities tour.
The tours are offered: Wednesdays at 11am, Thursdays at 3pm, and Tuesdays at 6pm
The only option for myself with a 9-5 job is Tuesdays at 6pm. This is still not a wonderful option because I work in Goodlettsville, TN (north of Nashville) and I will be driving through the WORST traffic that Nashville has to offer. This Tuesday I arrive for my tour at 6:06. When I got there the Center Administrator (aka MFY staff tour guide) told me that I was late and need to reschedule. Fighting back tears of anger I told her my name and manager and left the staff room for the tour to commence.
After I worked out for a bit (I wasn’t going to waste a trip to the YMCA), I came home and wrote this e-mail:
Dear MFY Tour Guide (names changed to protect the guilty),
We met this afternoon when I was late for the staff facilities tour.
I wanted to let you know that I was coming from another job across
town and was caught in afternoon traffic. Except for the 6:00 Tuesday
tour, the tours are offered during regular business hours. An
employee like myself, who has another full time job, has a hard time
attending these tours.
I understand that one of the core values of the YMCA is responsibility
and being on-time is apart of my responsibility to the YMCA family. I
apologize for my punctuality. I enjoy working on the aquatics team
and take much pride in the mission and vision of the YMCA. I hope
that in the future you will take in consideration the diverse
backgrounds of a YMCA employee and work with us to reach the goals of
our organization.
All the Best,
Nancy Hawthorne
I co-copied my manager, who was very supportive. However, the whole thing put my panties in a twist because I HAVE WORKED FOR THE MARYLAND FARMS YMCA FOR A YEAR. DURING THAT TIME I WORKED THE 4:30 AM TO 8:30 AM SHIFT MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, AND FRIDAY!! OUT OF ALL THOSE SHIFTS I HAVE BEEN MORE THAN 6 MINUTES LATE TWICE! MORE TIMES THAN I COULD COUNT, I STOOD OUTSIDE OF THE YMCA IN ALL TYPES OF WEATHER WAITING FOR THE FRONT DESK PERSON TO SHOW UP FOR WORK SO THAT I COULD OPEN THE POOL! I SHOW UP FOR A TOUR, THAT IS SCHEDULED AT ODD HOURS 6 MINUTES LATE AND GET TURNED AWAY.
This makes me angry.
I wrote an article about my Summer in NYC for my home town newspaper, The Lakeland Ledger, and they published it today!
http://www.theledger.com/article/20080816/NEWS/808170316/1326&title=Experiencing_A_New_York_Minute
(They even paid me!)
I’m sitting the passenger seat as my roommate drives around the curvy mountain road across the street from our condo. It’s almost midnight and the trees rest their branches over the road. The bright headlights are on, but we can only see a few feet in the distance. It doesn’t feel like we are racing, but we’re going fast enough for me to feel the adrenaline oozing in my veins. The destination is an open field where the moon looks closer and brighter and the fireflies try to hide in the grass. David Crowder’s song Open Skies is playing when we get there. We worship.
I realize It is cliché to compare my life to a car ride, a road trip, or a journey of any-kind. Regardless of the lack of impact by long overuse, my life is so much like this drive: my foresight only shines a few hours, maybe days in front of me and my road is curvy, quickly up and down, left and right. One minute I’m in New York, the next Nashville. One minute I have a many jobs, the next I’m barely working part time. One minute I can run for miles the next I’m in the ER for 14 hours.
But I have hope because I’m going somewhere and God went before me, he’ll be there with me, and he’ll be there when I’m gone.
… maybe I should write a parody on Tom Cochrane’s “Life is a Highway.”
