June 24, 2020

It was a quiet day until 6 PM rolled around. My store manager had left for the day – ninety minutes before closing – leaving me to pick up the stragglers needing chemicals and water tests after their own normal work days. Normally, I would have plenty of time to sweep the floors, restock the sales floor, take the cardboard out to the recycle bin and the trash to the trash bin in preparation for closing out the registers and calling it a day.

It all started innocently enough: a pretty young woman who smelled of very strong cotton candy (yuck!) came in for a water test – normally a five minute exercise. All well and good in and of itself, but two other folks followed her in shortly thereafter wanting water tests of their own.

This woman wanted to talk about the results. In detail. Her pool’s phosphates were through the roof (meaning she was going to need chemicals in order to head off algae), but she only had limited access to the rental property the pool was on, so we had to work out a treatment strategy that would work out both for her and her property.

Two more folks with water bottles entered the store.

…along with an elderly gentleman to whom I had sold a small bucket of chlorine tabs two hours before. When he was in earlier he was all hunched over, wearing a mask, seeming like a Joe Biden wanna-be – not really with it, asking his wife for help on everything.

The phone rang. This was a woman who said her husband wasn’t around (I didn’t ask why), but with two young children screaming in the background she wanted to know what the the results of the last water test was so she would know what chemicals to put in their pool. Looking at the line forming behind the water test station, all I could do was suggest she bring in a new water sample and we’d take it from there. Not good enough – she wanted to talk.

I was finally able to dispatch the woman who smelled like cotton candy with a bottle of no phosphates and a promise that she’d come back on Saturday for another water test. (I didn’t advise her to find another perfume.)

By this time the elderly gentleman with the bucket of tabs was no longer the feeble old gentleman I had helped earlier. Not only wasn’t he wearing his mask and feeble, but he wasn’t hunched over, either. He starts berating me and my store for charging him for a bucket of chlorine tabs that were all busted up. I tell him we can’t accept opened chemicals of any kind for returns, but we can do a straight-up exchange. Right in front of everyone he goes from Cat 4 to Cat 5.

(Normally, at this point, I would call the store manager, but I’ve still got the woman whose husband seems to have mysteriously disappeared on the line and I’m still trying to encourage her to bring a damned water sample into the store.)

Two more people come in the store for water tests. The line is now four deep.

To just get rid of the he irate elderly gentleman that I’ll refund his bucket of tabs (I’ll explain that to my store manager later), but only that (he had bought a chlorine floater with his purchase as well.

I finally get rid of the woman with the missing husband (and, more importantly in my view) the missing water test. The phone rings again. Now it’s a woman who wants to know if we have a play pool for children. I apologize to the crowd waiting for their water tests and get her a price.

In the confusion I make the mistake of refunding all the elderly gentleman’s earlier purchase (not just the chlorine tabs but the floater). He threatens that he’s going to go to Costco and get some “real” chlorine tabs. All I can say is – calmly – for him to do what he thinks he ought to do.

The folks in the water test line are getting restless. I see it in their body language.

I start the next water test, but realize I need to make sure the elderly gentleman still has to pay for the floater he bought earlier (remember, I refunded that as well as his “defective” chlorine tabs). I ring him up up and apologize for the broken up tabs. The register starts spitting out reams and reams of receipts of every different kind. It’s madness. I try to keep them all together and apologize to the gentleman for the defective product.

I complete the water test in front of me and sell the guy some chemicals.

I complete the next person’s water test and do the same.

That’s when I realize that the so-called “defective” bucket of tabs is no longer on the sales counter. Not only is the old, seemingly-decrepit elderly gentleman gone, but so are his “defective” tabs.

“Son of a bitch!” I yell, the four customers in the store wide-eyed at my pronouncement. “That old son of a bitch took me for a schnook!”.

Everyone laughs.

But it’s not funny – at least to me. Not only had I been played like some whale in Vegas, I also have to explain it to my store manager tomorrow morning. At least it was only $45 – we know there are professional hucksters who have taken our stores for $1K a pop.

It pisses me off that it was just circumstances that got me played for a fool. But it doesn’t feel good.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 22:56 | Comments Off on Confessions Of A Pool Supply Guy
No Comments

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.


Search The Site

Recent Items


September 2021
April 2021
January 2021
December 2020
November 2020
October 2020
September 2020
August 2020
July 2020
June 2020
May 2020
April 2020
March 2020
February 2020
January 2020
December 2019
November 2019
October 2019
September 2019
August 2019
July 2019
June 2019
May 2019
April 2019
March 2019
February 2019
January 2019
December 2018
November 2018
October 2018
September 2018
August 2018
July 2018
June 2018
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018
January 2018
December 2017
November 2017
October 2017
September 2017
August 2017
July 2017
June 2017
May 2017
April 2017
March 2017
February 2017
January 2017
December 2016
November 2016
October 2016
September 2016
August 2016
July 2016
June 2016
May 2016
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
January 2015
December 2014
November 2014
October 2014
September 2014
August 2014
July 2014
June 2014
May 2014
April 2014
March 2014
February 2014
January 2014
December 2013
November 2013
October 2013
September 2013
August 2013
July 2013
June 2013
May 2013
April 2013
March 2013
February 2013
January 2013
December 2012
November 2012
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
July 2012
June 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
November 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
March 2011
February 2011
January 2011
December 2010
November 2010
October 2010
September 2010
August 2010
July 2010
June 2010
May 2010
April 2010
March 2010
February 2010
January 2010
December 2009
November 2009
October 2009
September 2009
August 2009
July 2009
June 2009
May 2009
April 2009
March 2009
February 2009
January 2009
December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
February 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006



4 Goodboys Only

Site Info