Pool boys are supposed to be cute, charming, and accommodating. They are supposed to serve you drinks on command. Drinks with little pink umbrellas in them. If you believe anything you watch on TV, they "service" more than the pool.
Our Cabana boy is impossibly broken. Beyond repair. Ready for the dump. And I'm left to wonder: could it possibly be because we are CHEAP?
Back when we acquired the new house, we hired the least expensive, highly recommended company that promised "chemicals only" service on a weekly basis. That meant all the "heavy" work--cleaning, emptying the strainer basket, keeping the filters up--was OURS.
Of course, we'd never owned a pool before then, so we figured, being CHEAP, that we could do the bulk of the work and leave the chemicals to the pros.
Then our "pro" arrived.
He fit the poolside macho profile: young, tan, cute, and buff. He didn't arrive with drinks, but I figured that was a $20 a week premium I wasn't ever going to be willing to pay anyway. So he got a pass to enter our backyard without tequila and paper umbrellas. Frankly, if he had pulled out a condom I would have laughed in his face*.
When our chemical-dumping dude opened his mouth, we knew trouble had a new last name--and it wasn't N-O-W-E-L-L.
This fit young thing thought he should inform us our gate was locked. And that we were his last stop of the day. And that he was tired**. And demanded we unlock the East gate to save him 50 feet of walking and hauling his supplies.
Mike informed Mr. Man that the East gate was, indeed, going to be locked EVERY TIME he showed up because it was broken and, when unlocked, provided an escape for the fab-two***. And that it wouldn't be unlocked because we were knee-deep in remodeling inside the house and didn't have time to deal with a gate that was perfectly good as long as it was locked****. Besides, Mike reasoned, the West gate was totally accessible, 24/7. Cabana boy left downtrodden.
Fast forward a week and Studly returns. Now, I'm in the kitchen, completely within view of the the dude, so he brings his sad plea to me. Little did he know that I had already decided to plead complete ignorance on the issue and leave it to the He-Man in my life to duke it out.
He reasoned that the gate only needed a new spring, as best he could tell, and that he'd be glad to provide the BOLT CUTTERS to take the current lock off. All we'd have to do was buy a new spring and a new lock and then install the new spring. Easy-peasy-fresh-and-squeezy.
'Cept, according to plan, I wasn't playing along, and referred him to The Mister. He exited the backyard more downtrodden than the first time.
The following week he arrived to find our "save-your-children-from-drowning" pool net in its rightful place atop the pool. Truly not mechanically inclined, he had no idea what to do to move the net. So he left. Without dumping chemicals in the pool.
A bit later our more mature, paunchy-bellied, semi-bald, non-complaining pool boy showed up. Not only did he service the pool through the WEST gate and know exactly what to do with the net, but he didn't try to tell us when and how to fix the other gate. He didn't even knock on the door.
It appears that customer service has been shot about four dozen times, is bleeding profusely, and has arrived at the ER, but it isn't YET dead.
In the meantime, however, I'm still on the prowl for a non-condom-carrying cabana boy who will serve drinks and pour chemicals, all with a smile and a very low monthly fee.
*As IF! I'm SO TOTALLY HAPPILY MARRIED, stud-boy.
**Lost me there, boyfriend. I get whiny all day from the under ten-set. Sure ain't taking it from a "grown" adult.
***Tex and Doug, the Houdinis of the dog world.
****In other words, we're too cheap to fix it right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment