More Pool Stories

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I am the volunteer pool monitor. My community pays two teenagers to be actual pool monitors, one girl and one boy. They spend their time sitting by the sign-in book, watching movies or texting friends on their phones. They are not life guards. One of them doesn’t even know how to swim. But they are tall, athletic and gorgeous. We pay them to be a visible at the pool. Optics are everything. Next to my job, it’s the easiest job they will ever have.

Most people who have a key to our pool are lovely, responsible people. Every so often, however, we get a group that is challenging.

One Sunday afternoon, P.M.#1 texted me because he was concerned that a group of rowdy young adults were at the pool. P.M. #2 would be there soon, and he wanted an adult back-up because he was going off-duty.

When I got to the pool, I met the group in question. One, very tall woman with bright orange hair was the spokesperson. She was there with her baby, who appeared to be about three months old. 

The baby’s daddy was there, too, circling the deck on a hover-board. There were eight others in their group ~ a mix of adults and children. The adults had lots of tattoos, but no one was wearing an ankle monitor. I took that as a good sign. I told Hover-Board Guy he needed to take his toys outside. He agreed. 

The group became louder and louder, with children acting like adults, and adults acting like children. It became apparent that none of them lived in our community, but I decided to let them stay. They were basically compliant. They were already inside and I didn’t want trouble. 

I texted P.M. #1, who was home by this time, and asked him if he knew these people. He said that, in fact, he did. He said they used to rent a condo in our community and obviously kept their pool key when they left. He had the phone number of the orange hair lady, and was willing to text her if I felt that I needed him to back me up. 

At that point, I looked up and saw that the woman with orange hair wanted to change out of her bikini top into a dry t-shirt. Instead of going into the bathroom, she changed clothes right where she was, in the middle of the pool deck ~ flashing her perky sisters at anyone lucky enough to be watching.

I assumed the group was getting ready to leave and I heard them tell the children, who were whining and crying by this time, “Don’t worry, we’ll be back tomorrow.” That’s when I hit the panic button. I texted P.M. #1 and told him that the group was planning to come back the next day. 

“Do you want to deal with these people, or should I?” I wanted to know.

“I’ll take care of them.”

And he did. I don’t know what he said, but they left, glaring at me. They haven’t been back.

Another challenging group came to the pool this week. I was home eating dinner. There were no pool monitors on duty, because P.M. #1 was at football practice and P.M. #2 had already left for college.. I got a call from a man from Russia, whose name is Rafael. We call him The Mad Russian, because he is always angry about something or other. I don’t know how he got my phone number. I knew it was him as soon as I answered the phone.

“Come. Come to pool right now. You have to come. Teenagers in pool. Drinking beer and smoking cigarettes in pool.” He was shouting into the phone.

“Are they actually drinking beer and smoking cigarettes in the pool? Or are they at the tables outside the pool?” I was trying to project calmness.

“Come. You come right now. Smoking cigarettes and drinking beer in pool,” he shouted. 

“Ok. Let me put my shoes on.”

But the time I got the pool, everything was quiet. Rafael’s daughter and granddaughter were in the pool, but he was gone. There was no sign of anyone smoking or drinking in the pool.

“Is everything ok?” I asked.

“Yes. When the kids heard my grandpa yelling into the phone, they ran away. They got in their cars and left.” 

The kids might have thought Rafael was calling the police. I doubt that they realized he was calling me ~ a seventy-eight year old grandmother with white hair who doesn’t walk very fast. I sat  by the pool until it was time to close up. They, too, didn’t return.

The pool closes on Labor Day. I will miss it. It’s added a lot of pleasant evenings, and just enough drama to my life to keep it interesting.

I will miss them all!