What would you do for a Klondike Bar? I don't know what I'd do for a delightful ice cream treat, but I do know what I'd do for a quarter!
Since the end of June, I've worked for the City of Saskatoon. More specifically, the swimming pools. I've worked at the Mayfair Swimming Pool, almost daily, mostly vacuuming the pool. It's amazing the crap that I find dwindling at the bottom of the pool. A shit-ton of band-aids, more hair than I can accurately relay onto my readers, but suffice it to say, that when combined, I could almost created my own St. Bernard. I also find a lot of stones, hair ties, jewelry and some spare change.
It's mostly dimes and nickels that I discover at the bottom of my strainer when I clean the vacuum at shift's end. Pocketing them, I consider it a small bonus for a job well done. One day, I was pleased to find a loonie ($1 coin, for my non-Canadian readers). I celebrated by buying an ice cream cone on the way home. Today I found a dime, then moments before I was about to shut 'er down for the day, a small silver disc caught my attention in the deepest part of the pool. "I think that's a twoonie." I said to myself, then set in motion the task of retrieving it from the watery depths.
The vacuum was extra clogged with hair and band-aids, so sucking up the coin proved futile. I was slightly defeated, but had other tools in my arsenal. Hell or high water, pardon the pun, I was going to fetch this monetary prize. I tried the pool net, but the lip is too brunt, making it impossible to snag it. Next, I affixed the broom head to the telescopic pole and proceeded to "sweep" the coin from the deep end to the shallows next to the stairs at the other end of the pool. There, I thought I'd have an easier time to grab it. Failure was imminent, but not an option. Next I grabbed a small broom and dust bin, hoping to sweep the coin, which I could now see was just a twenty-five cent piece. That little bugger would not budge, as if it were suctioned to the bottom of the pool.
By this time, my co-worker came over to see what I was fighting so desperately to retrieve. "Oh. It's just a quarter. Leave it. Someone will grab it." he said, with a snicker.
"Someone IS going to grab it," I said, "And it's going to be ME. I've worked too hard to just walk away." It's true. I worked harder to get that quarter than I did for the previous three hours of work. Finally, I rolled up my short sleeve and told my companion, "I'm going in." He told me I was crazy. That the water was too deep for me to reach the coin, but I was not about to accept defeat. I laid down on my chest and plunged my arm in. He was right. What appeared to only be a couple of feet, turned out to be about three, but I'd come too far. I plunged my arm in deeper, only this time I got wet.
It's mostly dimes and nickels that I discover at the bottom of my strainer when I clean the vacuum at shift's end. Pocketing them, I consider it a small bonus for a job well done. One day, I was pleased to find a loonie ($1 coin, for my non-Canadian readers). I celebrated by buying an ice cream cone on the way home. Today I found a dime, then moments before I was about to shut 'er down for the day, a small silver disc caught my attention in the deepest part of the pool. "I think that's a twoonie." I said to myself, then set in motion the task of retrieving it from the watery depths.
The vacuum was extra clogged with hair and band-aids, so sucking up the coin proved futile. I was slightly defeated, but had other tools in my arsenal. Hell or high water, pardon the pun, I was going to fetch this monetary prize. I tried the pool net, but the lip is too brunt, making it impossible to snag it. Next, I affixed the broom head to the telescopic pole and proceeded to "sweep" the coin from the deep end to the shallows next to the stairs at the other end of the pool. There, I thought I'd have an easier time to grab it. Failure was imminent, but not an option. Next I grabbed a small broom and dust bin, hoping to sweep the coin, which I could now see was just a twenty-five cent piece. That little bugger would not budge, as if it were suctioned to the bottom of the pool.
By this time, my co-worker came over to see what I was fighting so desperately to retrieve. "Oh. It's just a quarter. Leave it. Someone will grab it." he said, with a snicker.
"Someone IS going to grab it," I said, "And it's going to be ME. I've worked too hard to just walk away." It's true. I worked harder to get that quarter than I did for the previous three hours of work. Finally, I rolled up my short sleeve and told my companion, "I'm going in." He told me I was crazy. That the water was too deep for me to reach the coin, but I was not about to accept defeat. I laid down on my chest and plunged my arm in. He was right. What appeared to only be a couple of feet, turned out to be about three, but I'd come too far. I plunged my arm in deeper, only this time I got wet.
Glancing down, my shirt was now drenched from my neckline down to about mid-chest. "Awe, f*ck it!" I said and went for the whole enchilada, plunging my face into the pool. With my eyes closed, I flung my arm around desperately, but unable to locate the coin. I had to open my eyes. "There it is!" I think I yelled, my voice obscured by the chlorinated water. I grabbed at it, but couldn't pick it off the bottom. "F*cking fingernails!" I thought to myself.
I lifted my head out of the water, for a quick breath and plunged the top half of my body in. Fighting with this stupid quarter, pulling it to the side of the pool to raise it high enough to grab it. My legs flung about, trying to steady the rest of my body, preventing me from falling in, completely. Somewhere in the struggle, my left shoe flew off my foot and across the concrete pad. I don't know what I looked like to my compatriot, but it was sure to be a pathetic sight to look upon.
Finally, I stood up, arm raised high above my head, with a single twenty-five cent piece held tightly between my fingers. Water fell off of me, like water off a duck's back. I was soaked, but never more proud of a job well done. Proudly, I limped over to the building, where my shoe had come to rest, slipped it on and marched back to the pump house, where I removed my shirt to wring most of the water out.
I lifted my head out of the water, for a quick breath and plunged the top half of my body in. Fighting with this stupid quarter, pulling it to the side of the pool to raise it high enough to grab it. My legs flung about, trying to steady the rest of my body, preventing me from falling in, completely. Somewhere in the struggle, my left shoe flew off my foot and across the concrete pad. I don't know what I looked like to my compatriot, but it was sure to be a pathetic sight to look upon.
Finally, I stood up, arm raised high above my head, with a single twenty-five cent piece held tightly between my fingers. Water fell off of me, like water off a duck's back. I was soaked, but never more proud of a job well done. Proudly, I limped over to the building, where my shoe had come to rest, slipped it on and marched back to the pump house, where I removed my shirt to wring most of the water out.
What would I do for a Klondike Bar? I have no f*cking clue. But for a quarter, I'd plunge my head into a swimming pool and look like a f*cking idiot, doing it!!
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