Sump Stories: Disrobed but Dedicated

A resort-hotel pool operator, eager to apply what he'd learned at a recent AFO school in South Florida, checked his water's chemical levels and values poolside. He wanted the water "balanced" and beautiful, as a group of tourists was due soon and his boss was conducting the resort's popular tour herself.

Test TA first. 90 ppm; OK. pH next. 7.4; That'll do fine. Free-chlorine residual just over one ppm. Good. Finally, CH. The sample color changed smartly at only eleven drops – 110 ppm. Woah! Gotta' fix this one. He was looking at 80,000 gallons of crystal clear but aggressive water. Our inveterate water perfectionist quickly calculated the 170 pounds of calcium chloride he'd need to bring the calcium hardness up to near 300 ppm. Figuring further, 170 pounds is close enough to 160. That's two of those 80-pound plastic bags stacked neatly in the downstairs pumproom. Dump them into the pool and nobody but nobody could criticize his pool water.

Now he'd gotten caught – just last year – adding chemicals directly to the pool while the pool was open. In Florida there was a crazy rule that said you not only should close the pool for such additions, ya' had to keep the gates closed for a full circulation turnover! 'Couldn't do that. But our man wasn't going to get busted, either. He had a plan.

Down in the pumproom, the sound of the circulation pump whining and the surge water roaring masked our guy's grunts as he lugged the two bags of C&C, one at a time, towards the six-foot high wall containing the surge chamber. He'd done it before – snuck chemicals into pool by heaving them up over the wall into the swirling water of the chamber. This time, however, one of the bags he'd hoisted over his head tumbled intact into the water on the other side. It was, of course, supposed to perch on the retaining wall's edge where he'd intended to climb for the clandestine dumping process. "Gotta' get that bag open and emptied, then retrieve the plastic before it ends up in the pump!" And it's getting close to tour time… Panic!

Our man stripped bare, (in that private, locked equipment room, of course,) climbed up to the wall's edge and jumped quickly into the pit. (He knew the pump suction was protected behind a quelling wall, so it was at least fairly safe…) He found the soggy bag in waist-deep water, ripped it open with a powerful yank, then released a heavy cloud of the pacifying chemical – finally on its way to the pool. Done. Outta' here, he thought. Jumping for a handy overhead pipe, young Tarzan swung gracefully up and over the tank's wall, heading for the dry and secret security of his personal domain – the pumproom.

As he dropped nimbly to the floor, however, there was more than the sound of the pump and the thunk, thunk of the chem feeder. It was, it was… applause! The ten-foot dash to the clothing neatly piled on his desk wasn't nearly quick enough to prevent a reddening of his face and a resurgence of polite and amused murmurs and more clapping. He was to die…

Oh yes, that tour – a group of about eight guy and gal hotel guests – was led by none other than his lady boss.

Later, he struggled to remember the greater embarrassment – caught out of his skivvies or caught treating the pool improperly through the back door. Being the better-skilled, now-wiser, and still-employed pro he is, however, this professional pool operator has put both events behind him and – to this day – runs a perfectly maintained resort pool. Legally. And modestly dressed.

~kw

©1997 Professional Pool Operators of America