We Don’t Swim in Your Bathtub, So Don’t Bathe in Our Pool

Alright, Who Put the Surfactant-Based Product in the Spa?

Jesse the Pool Guy

Chapter 3

By Bob Deakin

Jesse the pool guy conceived a new sign: We Don’t Swim in Your Bathtub, So Don’t Bathe in Our Pool. He hasn’t worked up the nerve to hang it, but he’s tempted.

Soap and swimming pools aren’t a match made in heaven. Bath products are “surfactant-based,” causing bubbles, slippery surfaces, and chemical reactions. Sounds like a party, right? Not for Jesse the pool guy at the Emerald Isle active adult community.

This is Jesse’s conundrum: One of the residents has been secretly adding a sudsy substance to the spa, clogging the filter and disrupting the chemical balance.

A tsurfactant tsunami

We Don't Swim in Your Bathtub

As a young man, Jesse loves the attention he gets from the seniors. They complain too, none of which have anything to do with his job, but he takes it in stride. Still, he has a whodunnit on his hands, but no one will expose the culprit. This is perplexing because complaining about other residents is the most popular pastime at Emerald Isle.

“I need an alliance,” he says to himself, meticulously cleaning the cartridge filter while scanning potential suspects at the pool. "Where's Eddie?"

El Chismoso On the Case

Jesse struck up a friendship with Eddie Falcone, a remarkably nosy resident in his 80s who used to do security for pop band Air Supply. He knows everything about everyone, and promises to find the perpetrator.

No sign of Eddie today, but Jesse spots Ms. Santiago, Emerald Isle’s long-time CNA. Still active, the older residents hold this viejita dear to their hearts. With a hint of disdain, she refers to Eddie as El Chismoso .

“He said he was going to the gas station after lunch.” 

Cleaning the filter is going slowly, so Jesse might see him.

A Fistful of Nickels

Eddie goes to the Route 37 Shell station for gas - as he tells everyone - because it’s three cents cheaper. He'll be home around noon since he has lunch at 10 am, and the station is ten miles away. 

At the stroke of noon, Eddie strides to the pool like a rock star. 

“Hey Eddie, what’s shakin’?” Jesse calls. “Heard anything?”

“Great job on the pool, chief!” he responds. “Nuttin’. Their lips are sealed tighter than the bingo bank.”

The Suds Have Settled, and the Cards are Face Up

The next day, Jesse makes a surprise visit just after sunrise. He tiptoes to the pool when what to his wondering eyes should appear? Eddie and Ms. Santiago lathered in a soapy tryst!

“Mornin’ Eddie!” Jesse shouts, spooking them.

Their gazes locked in a steamy blossom of bubbles, she lathers with a brush as Eddie pours a bottle of bubble bath while grabbing a quick shave.

Lost in love, they are dumb to the fact that soap disrupts chemical balance, altering pH and alkalinity, potentially introducing harmful phosphates. As a result, the pool’s lust for chlorine cannot be quenched. Pumps wine in a heated rush, and a cloudy green tide is on the horizon.  

“Sorry, chief. I’ll help you clean at dinnertime!” Eddie shouts with arrogance. 

“Okay,” Jesse responds with a despondent sigh. “See you at two.”

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