Friend sees reality of dream job

   My friend Joyce and I were all settled in at a Gladiators game. When the Zamboni started circling on the ice, Joyce exclaimed, “Oh, I love the Zamboni! All my life I’ve wanted to drive a Zamboni!” 

   As I was trying to listen to Dustin Bixby’s God-like voice booming down from the press box which is practically in the sky, Joyce chimed in again, “You know, now that I’m retired, I think it would be nice to have a little part time job. Wouldn’t it be cool to drive a Zamboni? It couldn’t be that hard, could it?”

   So how would I know? But the next time I talked to Jim Hall, Director of Community Relations for the Gladiators, I told him about Joyce. He offered to give us the grand tour, including an interview with the Zamboni driver.

   What a treat. Hall walked us through the tunnels, past the elephant door (for when the circus comes to town) and the on-site recycling center to the Zamboni room where we met John Martin, who’s been driving a Zamboni for 20 years.

   Joyce, who’s been ice skating since she was a toddler, jumped right in with her questions.

   “This is really a good job for older people,” Martin said, “because at this point in life you don’t get upset when things go wrong because you realize by now something’s always going wrong.”

   In this particular case, he was referring to a broken valve on a water tank that had to be replaced in front of the crowd during intermission. And he said that was nothing compared to stories drivers share at Zamboni conventions.

   “Now you don’t post a resume on the Internet,” Martin went on. “You have to sort of work your way into it. My entire ice crew is made up of volunteers, mostly doctors, lawyers and engineers who just love the ice.”

   The only other paid employee is Dave Ouimet, who has degree in business management and works in tandem with Martin.
Of course there’s more to being a Zamboni driver than just driving. You have to know how to service and repair the thing.

   “It’s not like you can drive it up to Jiffy Lube,” said Ouimet, who showed us how all the blades and augers worked.

   “Oh, like a snow blower,” said Joyce, a native of Wisconsin.

   “Yeah,” said Ouimet. “Not many people down here know what a snow blower is.

   But there’s even more to it than that. Martin said Zamboni drivers put in 15 hour days. The ice must be ready for practice early in the morning and cleaned up after the game.

   “A 15 hour day?” I said to Joyce. “Are you sure that’s how you want to spend your retirement? Besides, if you’re either driving or fixing the Zamboni, you don’t get to see the cute little kid yell “Let’s play hockey!” at the start of the game. And look how we both get teary eyed when the middle school chorus sings the National Anthem. Do you want to miss that? And think about the fun we have figuring out the artwork on the digital facia board. And trying to spot the guy with the remote control for that blimp that drops the coupons? And seeing Maximus shoot T-shirts out of his gun. You can’t catch a T-shirt if you’re smearing axel grease on a Zamboni. And what about Chuck-A-Puck? Would you really want to miss Chuck-A-Puck, even if you didn’t win a Kroger gift certificate?”

   Joyce looked down from the Zamboni. Martin let her sit on it so I could take her picture, making it look like she was driving it. After a moment she said, “Yes, maybe this should just be an experience for my bucket list.” 

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