With our towels draped over our arms, it was obvious we were THAT family when we walked into the store.
Me—“Hello Jacuzzi store? We’re interested in buying a hot tub but we would first like to try it out.”
Store employee—"Uh, hold on.”
I knew his hand covered the receiver as he sounded like the teacher from the Charlie Brown TV specials. “Wha wha lady wants to try jacuzzi wha wha.”
Click. He hung up on me.
Two more stores later, more laughing, and a snooty voice, sales guy said, “This is Palo Alto; we have a code of ethics.”
Huh?
Then I phoned Hot Tub City (I don’t recall the actual store name.)
“Sure. You can try out our hottest model. No pun intended,” the salesman said thru a chuckle. “The D-220. We’ll have it babbling and bubbling for ya. When can you come by?”
We were living in Los Altos, California aka Silicon Valley. The home prices in 2003 were still astronomical even after the dot com bust of 2000. We found a fixer upper. We “fixered” a bathroom but couldn’t afford to “upper” the kitchen.
“Let’s see if this job lasts,” hubby said. We knew too well about the shaky world of online games. “But, there’s no bathtub so let’s get the hot tub before I get too busy at work.”
“Ready for the plunge, honey.”
Jeffrey needed his baths like a tadpole needs water. It was his Zen after a long day of work. His bath tray rested over the edges, a glass of wine positioned within the round depression and the latest sci fi novel propped against the book stand. It was his bliss.
Every house we had ever lived in had to have a bathtub. The Los Altos house was the only home we could afford but was without a tub so we made a deal—an outdoor Jacuzzi.
The Kids’ School
Parents were required to retrieve their kids in their classrooms at the end of the school day. The car line up wasn’t a thing at this little French school in Cupertino. I usually dressed up for the other moms. That was a thing. For some reason I was wasn’t wearing my “good” sweatpants that day. It wasn’t just my attire drawing attention. Our 6 year old twins, Dylan and Samantha, had told all their friends and their teacher that we were going to a hot tub store to use their Jacuzzis.
“Mommy, why can’t we try out Jacuzzis at the store too,” said Samantha’s friend, Annabelle, as she yanked on her mom’s shirt.
“Because we have twelve tubs at home plus the spa in the vineyard that no one uses,” said the mom.
“I’d be embarrassed,” said another girl.
I eyed Samantha hoping she didn’t hear this comment. Samantha was busy saying, “Au revoir, a demain,” to her teacher.
I was suddenly self-conscious of my Jacuzzi endeavor and jelly-stained Old Navy sweatpants that I wore on bed rest during my pregnancy.
The moms trickled out of the classroom with their kids, one talked about dinner plans, another discussed a weekend away and issues with their private jet. Money in Silicon Valley is another essay unto itself. The area was inhabited by “Sweaty 24-year-olds with Lamborghinis,” hubby once said.
At home, the kids changed into their swimsuits in under a minute and piled into the car. Samantha was suddenly nervous, “We’re going in the Jacuzzi in the store?”
“It’s an adventure,” I said. “It won’t be embarrassing at all,” I told myself unconvincingly. At the same time, I felt like the best mom ever-- teaching our kids to research before making a big purchase, and, not to feel embarrassed.
The Jacuzzi store plunge idea came from an acquaintance I knew. I admired actress Patch MacKenzie not only because she managed to be a working actress in cut throat Hollywood but she was smart with good ideas. Her bluntness reminded me of New Yorkers and I missed that sensibility.
“That’s how we purchased our Jacuzzi,” she said. “Why not? You can test drive a car, why not a Jacuzzi.”
She made perfect sense.
Hot Tub City
With our towels draped over our arms, it was obvious we were THAT family when we walked into the store.
Dale made a bee line for us. “You must be the Steefels.”
“That would be us.”
“I’m Samantha,” my daughter said to Dale. She loved meeting new people.
My son followed her lead. “I’m Dylan.”
“Nice to meet you kids. Twins?”
“Yes,” The kids said in unison.
“Okay. I’ve got three tubs for you to try out,” Dale said as he clapped his hands together. His face and neck were shimmering, and I wondered if he just demonstrated a steam room.
“Three? Yay!” said Samantha.
“Yay,” Dylan echoed her excitement.
The other salespeople looked at us suspiciously. I wondered if they thought we were that family that takes advantage of the hot tub store and its employees, dunking and leaving. Maybe that was a thing. Dunking and leaving. Like those who sample the food at the market but don’t purchase the box. I admit I was that person that gobbled up the sausage wrap sample at Costco and walked away, rejecting the box of 450 sausages because we just didn’t eat that many pigs in a blanket. I always felt guilty.
I wanted to reassure the other salesmen, “Look, if there’s a Jacuzzi that’s right for the family Steefel we will purchase. Really. Promise.”
But I didn’t. Instead, we stripped off our outer layers of clothes revealing our bathing suits usually worn in the summer. Not October. I purposely wore a one piece. I didn’t want to scare anyone with my muffin top. I even shaved my legs. Jeffrey drew the shock and awe of the room as he always does at any beach. He is not just white. Milk is envious of his skin tone. If Jeffrey needed an invisibility cloak, he could get naked and lie in the snow. One might need those sunglasses from the eye doctors if one accidentally looked at him. Jeffrey is the first to tell you that his skin tone is Greenwich Standard White. Phlebotomists love him.
His belly back then had its own personality. It proudly declared, “I’m a dad and I can’t help myself at work where free donuts line the kitchen counter.” Crawlers were his go to. I don’t think he was aware of his hand when it reached for one.
The first tub was an 8-seater. My family stepped in right away. Jeffrey sighed an audible, “Ahhhh.” I started with my big toe, sensitive to heat.
“C’mon mom.”
“It’s hot.”
“It’s a HOT tub mom,” said my smart aleck son.
We sat in the heated bubbly water as Dale demonstrated all the bells and whistles.
“You’ve got this remote to turn on and off the jets, lighting, foam, no foam, and wait for it…”
A TV screen popped up from the side.
The kids tried to jump up and down but were weightless. Even so their splashing proved their excitement.
“Let’s get this one dad! It’s got a TV!” said Dylan.
“I want to watch Lizzy McGuire,” said Samantha.
“I want to watch SpongeBob.”
“Let’s try the next spa,” said Jeff.
Dylan hit the water, annoyed.
“Dylan, you’re splashing me,” said Samantha.
I chimed in. “Guys if you can’t behave, we’ll leave.”
Dale frowned.
The kids simmered as though they were on a low bubble setting. Dale showed us the six-seater. Again, we climbed in, and Dale gave Jeffrey the remote.
“Take it for a spin.”
Jeffrey switched on the various settings.
Fast bubbles. Slow bubbles. No bubbles.
“The silence is nice,” I said.
Finally, we sat in a five-seater. It had four benches and a settee on one side. And like Goldilocks Jeffrey said, “This one is just right.”
Of course being the smallest tub without a TV screen it was the least expensive.
Before the kids could misbehave, Dale said, “We can have it delivered to you this weekend.” And another salesperson was already writing up the bill.
“Yay,” said the kids.
We stepped out of the tub and dried off with our damp towels. Jeffrey threw on his shirt and grabbed his credit card from his jeans. Another family had entered, and the mom cocked her head at us. She elbowed her husband and said, “Look they rent out jacuzzi time.”
Aftermath
Caring for the non-chlorinated hot tub was a chore.
The backyard was small with a low fence, so the family Steefel was on display to our neighbors.
The tub came with “scented pearls” to add fragrance, but it was all hype no scent.
Within a year the company Jeffrey worked for filed Chapter 11 and the tub was not a selling point of the property. In fact, the buyer wanted it gone.
Even though Jeffrey was the only one who used the Jacuzzi, I have fond memories of our adventure trying out hot tubs at the retail store.
We should have brought a picnic with us when we went to the outdoor furniture store.
1. Do you taste samples at the market then walk away?
2. Have you ever test drove a Jacuzzi in the store?
3. Have you ever made a big purchase you later regretted?
BWAHA!! OMG...
1. Do you taste samples at the market then walk away? Yes. And I don't feel guilty about it because it really is just a sample. And more often than not, I'm doing it to curb momentary hunger. LOL
2. Have you ever test drove a Jacuzzi in the store? LOL NO! And my mouth is still open in a shocked "O" that you did. Was this pre-COVID? Because I can't imagine being able to do that now. And I can't believe the salesguy allowed it. LOL But can you imagine? If those other places you had called had allowed you to do it--instead of scoffing at you--they could've made a sale. But I get it. If people went around doing that, they'd have to sanitize it all the time.
3. Have you ever made a big purchase you later regretted? Yes. An email mgmt course. I liked the vibe of the person selling it, but it wasn't what I was looking for.
Oh for a camera back then. What fun! Were you a bit wet driving home or did you bring a change of clothes?
We used to have a jacuzzi. Hubby decided bromine was better than chlorine and he loved really beefing up (the bromine that is)... which meant we coughed our way through our naked evening dips. Ah, the memories.