Life Coach-Lesson 10
By Mark Crantz
You’ve been cooped up for weeks on end. You find yourself waiting at the mailbox for your ancestry.com DNA test results. You’re hopeful that the mailman will bring proof that you are not related to this family, who you have been quarantined with. You’re pretty sure before the results are delivered that you aren’t related. You’re nothing like these animals. Hopefully, the mailman will confirm that these children are not yours, but his.
You are surprised at the results. The kids aren’t the mailman’s. They are the pool guy’s. Looking back, you now understand why the kids took to water like ducks. You need to talk with this aquatic jerk, but first you need to find him. He’s not returning your calls. At your first attempts you aren’t concerned because he never was the most reliable guy to contact. Of course, now you realize the wife did not have this problem.
You call around to neighbors to see if they have heard from Aquaman. Nobody has. They assume you are trying to call him because their pools are turning into chemical dumps, too. One neighbor tells you, “If you reach that jerk, schedule a pool cleaning for me, too. Any day and time will do. None of us are going anywhere. Do you know if coronavirus can swim? I thought I saw one doing the backstroke.”
It has been several days and still no contact. The situation is getting more desperate. You have 20 neighbors, who have given you instructions, to get their pools cleaned. They are calling you day and night. They are getting on your nerves more than the children, who aren’t yours, but the pool guy’s.
At the end of the week, you are staring at the deep end of the swimming pool. Or you think you are. By now, you can’t see the bottom at either end. There is too much coronavirus synchronized swimming going on. It is quite mesmerizing with all the different colors and refracted light going on. Your head feels trapped by the varying patterns. You stare into the abyss and think about giving up hope. Just dive in you hear over and over. At the last moment, you realize you do not know how to swim and you step back with a life affirming thought.
“Hey kids come over here. You know the pool guy, right?” The kids scream, “He’s great. We love him.” You wince. “Do you think you could clean the pool, like him?” The kids jump up and down. “We can do it. He taught us how.”
You sigh. “Good. Good. When you’re done here, then get into those new hazmat suits I bought and clean out the neighbors’ pools, too. There are big bucks coming your way.”
Crantz reports to the Indy that you are no longer looking for the pool guy. Your new pool cleaning service is too lucrative. It’s now a family affair.Firebrand Media LLC wants comments that advance the discussion, and we need your help to accomplish this mission. Debate and disagreement are welcomed on our platforms but do it with respect. We won't censor comments we disagree with. Viewpoints from across the political spectrum are welcome here. While everyone is entitled to their opinion, our community is not obliged to host all comments shared on its website or social media pages, including:
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