In August, we bring a set of new full-time writers to the blog. Today, please welcome Savannah Shustack (’24), who will be writing for us on the 22nd of each month. Savannah Shustack graduated from Calvin in 2024 with a major in literature and plans to have the job of “books” one day. Rather like Ken, she is still figuring life out; the job “books” provides plenty of wiggle room, though she’s currently leaning toward being a librarian. Savannah is a New England native who enjoys watching hockey (Go Bruins!) and playing board games—especially ones she can win.
College students are the main characters. You may take that statement in whatever way you’d like, especially given I’m a recently graduated one and that line could be used in a trite, clichéd post-graduation essay about deflation and aimlessness and uncertainty.
Lifeguards, on the other hand, are NPCs, or nonplayer characters. The term NPC originated in video game culture to describe characters who are controlled by the computer rather than an autonomous user. Now, I don’t play many video games. (Think of every stereotype regarding English majors. I probably hit them all and maybe three or four more you didn’t even remember, so saying I don’t play many video games means I don’t play any video games except virtual Scrabble and Subway Surfers with my ten-year-old brother.) But this term has seeped into popular culture. According to “Know Your Meme”—because while I am online, I am not chronically so, and accuracy is important to me—“being called an NPC is akin to being called a person without individuality, originality or personality, who serves only as a background character in other people’s lives.”
Last summer, when I worked as a lifeguard at a small outdoor community pool in a tiny tight-knit Western Massachusetts town, I saw a woman give birth—not literally, but not entirely figuratively, either. For weeks I watched this woman and her uncomfortably pregnant stomach and her toddler named Ingrid and her husband dressed always in the same blue trunks swim in the pool and play at the plastic water table. Late in August, I saw Ingrid teetering onto the pool deck in her colored seashell swimsuit that didn’t quite cover her swim diaper. I saw the husband in his blue trunks walking behind her with the woman, belly deflated, holding a bundle.
Last summer I saw a woman loaded into an ambulance. Autumn was a childcare worker for one of the daycare summer camps that visited the pool twice a week, and one day she experienced a seizure. Her wrists twisted together and her mouth turned blue and the brash adult woman I knew looked more like a child than I could have ever imagined. I ran to call 911, and the other lifeguard stroked her hair. When the ambulance arrived, she had started to regain consciousness. They loaded her, groggy and disoriented, into the wailing vehicle, and I went back to guarding. The kids still wanted to swim.
I’m sure neither Autumn nor Ingrid knew my name.
I liked my job though, I really did. I got a tan (after burning, of course); I received consistent paid breaks (they’re strongly suggested by the Red Cross); I didn’t have to sweat through t-shirts (I sweat in a swimsuit instead); and my boss was quite literally the greatest.
But mostly I was a red suit in a chair who made sure kids didn’t run and scrape their knees or do flips and crack their heads. Even the constant refrain of whistle, shout “Cut it out bud” and “Walk” and “No 360s” seemed NPC-ish. Only three dialogue options! It wears a little, to watch everyone else make memories as you lurk behind them ensuring no one dies or gets hurt. Last summer was supposed to be my last summer at home, my last summer working a job irrelevant to my future career, and my last job as an NPC.
Alas, this summer, here I am again, in the same red suit and the same red visor (I do have some new red Dave and Buster’s sunglasses, so that’s nice I guess?) with a freshly minted college degree still telling kids to walk.
I think it’s good for me.
I needed a reminder of my own insignificance and a reality check about the steep and linear upward trajectory of my career, not least because, according to research about happiness, making others happy makes oneself happier, and selflessness is generally positively related to happiness of the sort that lasts.
More importantly, though, I’m kinda called to be humble and servant-hearted, which too often I forget.
So probably you’re far less arrogant and egoistic than I, but here’s your invitation anyway. Be the NPC. Notice people, watch them, and see what you learn. This summer I learned I wanted joy like Christie with the purest smile and I wanted a fearless desire to drink pool water like her toddler Lucy, who wears the most adorable pigtails.
Savannah Shustack graduated from Calvin in 2024 with a major in literature and plans to have the job of “books” one day. Rather like Ken, she is still figuring life out; the job “books” provides plenty of wiggle room, though she’s currently leaning toward being a librarian. Savannah is a New England native who enjoys watching hockey (Go Bruins!) and playing board games—especially ones she can win.
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The characterizations here are fantastic. Well done, Savannah!
I absolutely loved this, Savannah! You balance humor and reflection expertly in this piece.