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A Lifeguard Can Only Do So Much

BY Matt Lockard | 10-15-2009 | 1:06 PM
This blog is written by a member of our blogging community and expresses that member's views alone.
. But when Jimmy’s mother and the repentant boy went in to thank California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard, he was as pleased as the Malcolm family that they’d purchased a suitable group policy.

Jimmy Malcolm, age 12, epitomized the word “brat.” He blithely
ignored the lifeguard at the county pool. But when Jimmy’s mother and
the repentant boy went in to thank California Health Insurance agent Matt Lockard, he was as pleased as the Malcolm family that they’d purchased a suitable group policy.

The lifeguard, Freddy Feldspar, was getting really annoyed. This kid
epitomized the word “brat,” a 12-year-old man-child in the promised
land of the Oxnard Community Pool making the lifeguard screech and bark
incessantly. “No running!” yelled Feldspar at the careless boy who kept
dashing to and fro, along the sides of the pool, skidding on the wet
surface in his bare feet, jumping in and quickly out again in some
frenetic rabid dance of pubescent energy, “Can’t you see the signs?”

But Jimmy Malcolm wasn’t paying attention to the signs or to the
clearly annoyed lifeguard, a college age red-haired man who made little
impression on the energized boy. Jimmy looked at him once or twice, but
his expression was one of indifference, perhaps even a mild disdain.
Unfortunately, the signs were there for a reason, as such behavior on
the part of errant boys is an accident waiting to happen. Jimmy kept it
up at breakneck speed, his soles wet and slippery, running and dashing,
diving into the crowded public pool, and then climbing out and
beginning his mad dashes all over again. The 12-year-old escaped a
mishap for perhaps longer than he should have, his feet barely in
control along the wet tiles, but then the inevitable happened.

“No running!” Freddy Feldspar cried out one last time. The words had
barely emerged from his lips when the inevitable transpired. Everyone
at the pool saw Jimmy slip and fall, and scrape the skin off his right
ankle when he did. Five stitches and an urgent care facility visit
later, a more contrite Jimmy Malcolm and his mother Madge went to see California Health Insurance
agent Matt Lockard in his office a few days later, “My son and I just
wanted to thank you for selling us that small business policy last
year,” she said, “It came in very handy a few days ago.”

“Oh?” queried Matt spying a rather obvious protective bandage around
young Jimmy’s sandal-cloaked right ankle. “So what happened?”

Jimmy spoke shyly, almost as if a tabby cat had gotten his tongue. “There was this lifeguard …”

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