Teen Boss of Raspberry Hill
July 8, 2022 – Nampa, Idaho, USA
Wearing a bright red T-shirt and white shorts, Ryn Monson was hard to distinguish from the lifeguards in the Raspberry Hill waterpark. Like the lifeguards, she wore sunglasses and carried a whistle. She also held a clipboard showing work assignments and the rotation schedule. As she squished through puddles of chlorinated water in her sandals, Ryn stopped to write notes.
Workdays were mostly carefree for actual lifeguards. Not for Ryn. She felt responsible for everything happening in the pools and on the waterslides. One of her biggest worries was how people snuck into the park without paying the entrance fee. She stopped a ten-year-old kid who was not wearing the required wristband.
“Where’s your wristband? How did you get in here?” asked Ryn.
The kid replied guiltily, “Nobody checked at the gate. I didn’t know I needed one.”
Ryn shook her head as the kid hurried off toward the lazy river. She already knew the cause of the problem.
Raspberry Hill had always been a part of Ryn’s life. It was a combination campground and theme park open during summer months. Ryn’s dad, who was a high school teacher most of the year, had inherited the park from his father. In its heyday, Raspberry Hill was a regional destination spot, famous for raspberry shakes and family fun. More recently, it barely broke even financially and sucked up all Ryn’s family’s time between May and September. Her dad stayed busy fixing facilities. Her mom ran the grill and shake shop. After celebrating her sixteenth birthday, Ryn was put in charge of waterpark operations.
Most sixteen-year-olds would shrink away from a job with so much responsibility, but Ryn embraced it. The lifeguards and other young employees called her “boss lady”. The younger teenagers used the title seriously. Those older than Ryn said it sarcastically. Ryn was well aware that most people thought she was in charge only because her dad owned the park, and she was out to prove she deserved the boss title.
Ryn trudged from her conversation about the missing wristband to the entrance gate. The waterpark had a pirate theme and above the opening in the black iron fence were the words “Leave your swords and muskets outside”. Sitting under an umbrella was Ryn’s grandfather on her mom’s side. His head, resting on his chest, was shielded by a bucket hat. In his lap was an empty raspberry shake cup.
Ryn nudged her grandpa’s leg. “Grandpa, wake up.”
“Oh, hi Ryn,” muttered her grandpa in a startled voice. “I was only resting my eyes from the sun. Busy day today, huh?”
“Yeah, but Grandpa you can’t fall asleep. You’re letting people in without wristbands and that means they aren’t paying. As soon as people over in the campground hear about it, they’re all going to sneak in.”
“I know, I know. I wasn’t out for long. I promise. There can’t be many who got past me.” Ryn’s grandpa laughed and said, “You’re not going to dock my pay, are you?”
Ryn did not laugh in return. Having her grandpa and grandma’s help was not her idea. They had volunteered to do it for free after hearing her parents complain about how hard it was to hire teenage employees after the Covid pandemic. The grandparents were assigned to Ryn and her waterpark operations. Ryn first tried to use them in the park store selling admissions and attaching wristbands. But they always fumbled with the computer and ignored any training. The grandparents were not certified lifeguards so they could not monitor the pools. Ryn had no choice but to give them the easiest possible job – checking wristbands at the gate.
Grandpa and Grandma took turns during the day. Grandpa was usually good for at most ninety minutes before dozing off. Grandma did not seem to understand why wristbands were important. She waved through any kid who looked desperate to swim. Folks in the campground quickly spread the word on how to avoid entrance fees.
“We lose money on every cheater who walks in while you’re resting your eyes,” Ryn said to her grandfather.
“It’s nice to see you’re so dedicated to helping out your dad and the park,” answered Grandpa. “What are you writing on your clipboard?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if you were running a big company someday.”
As Ryn listened, two of the older lifeguards strolled through the gate. They glanced at her and her grandfather and sniggered. Ryn instantly knew what they were thinking: she was only in charge because her family owned the place. Anyone related to her could work there and get away with falling asleep on the job.
Ryn waved goodbye to her grandpa and marched along the asphalt road that led to the campground. She found her dad and little brother working on an electrical pole between two RVs. One of the RVs had backed into the pole, severing the connection to the main power line.
“Dad, can I talk to you about something?” asked Ryn.
“If you don’t mind me hammering while I listen,” said Ryn’s father, banging against the tilted pole.
“It’s about Grandpa and Grandma. They keep letting in people without wristbands.”
“Uh huh,” Ryn’s father replied absentmindedly, as he shoved test leads into the pole’s electrical sockets.
“I’ve been keeping track. Whenever Grandpa is working, 10% of waterpark guests don’t have wristbands. When Grandma’s working, it’s 15%. With all the money we’re losing, we could hire multiple people to take their place.”
“Why don’t you give them a different job?”
“I already tried. They aren’t good at anything.”
“Well, I’m going to let you handle it. It’s your area.” Ryn’s dad looked down at his meter with a frustrated frown. He was obviously distracted.
Ryn walked away feeling confused. Did she have permission to do anything she wanted with her grandparents? Could she tell them not to come in anymore? That would be like firing them and Ryn had never fired anyone before. But firing bad employees was a sign of being a good boss. The lifeguards would have to respect her if they found out she fired Grandpa and Grandma. It would show it did not matter who you were related to when it came to working at Raspberry Hill.
Ryn spent the whole night deciding what to do. She stayed nervously excited the next morning. Her clipboard felt unusually heavy, but she was ready to prove she was a real boss. She caught both grandparents near the entrance gate as they were trading places for a shift. Ryn kept one eye on customers as she addressed her employees.
“Grandma and Grandpa, I need to talk to you,” Ryn began, sounding serious.
“What is it, dear?” asked her grandma. “Oh, don’t you look cute with your whistle and your clipboard. You remind me of myself when I was your age.”
“We need to talk about how you’re doing at the gate. I’ve been counting people without wristbands. You’re letting way too many cheaters in.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. We’ll do better. I promise,” said Grandma.
“We’ve already talked about this. You aren’t getting better.”
“Just keep reminding us,” said Grandpa.
“I don’t think that will help. I was thinking it might be better if you didn’t watch the gate anymore.”
“Then what should we do instead?” asked Grandma.
“I’m not sure. Maybe you could just stay home.”
Grandpa got the message first. “Stay home? Does this mean you’re firing us?”
Grandma’s face went blank. She dropped the sunscreen bottle she was holding. “No. She’s not saying that. Are you, honey?”
“Well, I thought that . . .”
“We don’t even get paid,” interjected Grandma.
“But you lose us more money than if we did pay you.”
Ryn instantly wanted to take back what she had said. Her grandmother’s lip quivered like she was on the verge of tears. Grandpa would not look Ryn in the eye. What had she expected? Did she think they would complement her on her business sense? She did not feel like a powerful boss. Just the opposite. What kind of boss would try to make an example of her own grandparents?
“Sorry, you misunderstood me,” Ryn cried, backtracking desperately. “I just wanted to say I need you in a different spot in the park.”
“What part?” asked Grandma with a hurt voice.
Ryn’s brain never churned so fast as she tried to think up an assignment. “The lazy river. Yeah, the lazy river has a bucket with a rope. I need you to pull it and get kids wet. And maybe you could wear a pirate hat.”
“That sounds kind of fun,” replied Grandma.
From that point on, Grandma and Grandpa traded off bucket duty and shared the same pirate hat. According to Ryn’s new numbers, the lazy river became 25% more popular. And she did not care if the lifeguards thought the new assignment was useless and silly. She decided she could procrastinate her first real firing until she was at least seventeen.
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