I once proposed a documentary about the pool industry trade show to National Geographic. In hindsight, possible exposure to aluminum sulfate during a CyA trial may have influenced my brain.
Picture this: David Attenborough, velvet voice under fluorescent lights —
“Here, we see the pool professional in its natural habitat… migrating gracefully across carpeted aisles. Around them, the landscape teems with life — rows of gleaming products, tables guarded by ever-watchful sales representatives, and displays designed to captivate and entice. It is here, amid the banner-clad canopy, that the rituals of the industry unfold.”
Genius, right?
Apparently not. After 137 follow-up calls, my persistence was rewarded with a canceled Nat Geo subscription and a voicemail politely suggesting therapy. Their loss.
In my next pitch, I found that the powers that be at the Discovery Channel were just as receptive and could go ‘Hakuna Matata’ themselves as far as I care.
I couldn’t abandon the idea because it’s too good — a trade show is a badass safari, a living and breathing Serengeti, where tote bags, brochures, and vendor migrations form the circle of life. Luckily, I found my way to AQUA, the only media company with the guts to just let it rip.
So let’s get going — come with me on safari to explore the archetypes of the pool industry in their natural habitat. If you really watch — not just glance at the booths handing out knockoff PopSockets — you start to see them, emerging from their watering holes and Baobab groves: the Pool Industry’s Big 12.
THE SOLOPRENEUR GRINDER
This is the Pool Pro on a mission. They power-walk with a floor plan in their head, targets circled in ink, first in, first out. Vendors lined up, distractions ignored. A Waterman pen flashes from a pocket, ready to sign. This isn’t networking. This is survival.
They drove their route truck to the show, serviced pools before the doors opened, and will be back on the job by afternoon. They don’t smile, they don’t linger, and they don’t need raffle prizes… they’re already halfway home before the first number’s called.
The Grinder is grit in human form. They answer messages in the dark before dawn, patch pumps with spit, glue, and F-bombs, and keep a 12-year- old truck alive out of pure spite. They don’t just push through exhaustion; they weaponize it. Where others see obstacles, they see opportunities.
When the show ends, you won’t find them at the bar. You’ll find them back in their truck, halfway through their second pool of the afternoon, cursing at a filter clamp.
THE INDUSTRY PURIST
Pressed khakis. White sneakers. Highlighter gripped like a sword. They circle seminars with the intensity of hawks. One slip and — BAM! “Actually, NEC Article 680 states…”
Without the Purist, half of these booths would be selling hot tubs wired with extension cords from hotel janitors. Their briefcase isn’t luggage: It’s an arsenal of laminated code sheets, OSHA regs, and a calculator that still runs on AA batteries.
They don’t just attend sessions, they patrol them, ready to swoop in and save the industry from itself.
Without the Purist, we’d all be dead from toting a portavac wired by MacGyver when what we needed was Holmes on Homes. They’re the buzzkill we secretly thank on the drive home.
THE HUSTLING ROOKIE
Logo hat, logo shirt, logo water bottle. If it can be branded, it’s on them. Every handshake becomes a selfie, every booth demo a TikTok draft. By noon, they’ve gone live twice and tagged six vendors who are unfamiliar with social media. By the end of the day, their swag haul isn’t just stuffed with giveaways; it’s curated for an unboxing reel.
They may not know a union fitting from a unicorn, but they know the algorithm. Followers matter more than filter housings, hashtags more than horsepower.
While you’re shaking your head, muttering about “Gen Z,” this rookie on a sugar high is turning stress balls into clout and clout into contracts.
THE GRIZZLED VETERAN
Sunglasses indoors. Polo bleached by a thousand Florida summers. Skin is leathery enough to carry a Harley Davidson logo.
Their booth banter is legend:
“Wi-Fi doesn’t clean pools, people do.”
“I’ve got pumps in the field that have been running since Ozzy left Sabbath.”
Every gadget gets an eye roll sharp enough to cut vinyl.
Mock the faded polo if you want, but when your pool is on fire, literally, you won’t be DM’ing an influencer. You’ll be calling the Veteran and praying they answer.
THE DEAL SEEKER
You hear them before you see them: “So what’s my price if I pay cash?”
Their booth strategy is surgical zigzagging like a bargain-hunting predator, scooping up freebies like rare artifacts. By noon, their rolling suitcase rattles like a piñata of fidget spinners. By afternoon, they’ve haggled the price of bottled water down to two bucks.
They’re not here to innovate. They’re here to survive on mints, koozies, and sheer stubbornness, turning trade show tchotchkes into next week’s grocery list.
THE TREND WATCHER
The glow hits first: ring light blazing like a landing strip, frying retinas three aisles over. Every handshake gets filmed, every demo chopped into clips, every pool brush spun into “content.”
By the lobby, they huddle over a tripod, eagerly unwrapping conference crack. “Top five pens of the show, coming at you live!” Despite the loud voice and bright lights, it works. You roll your eyes, but later check your own follower count back at the hotel. Because while you’re whining about ring lights, the Trend Watcher is turning hashtags into money.
THE FRANCHISE CURIOUS
Binder clutched like a ring buoy, spreadsheets sliding out like over- cooked lasagna noodles, the future tycoons arrive with glory in their eyes. Every booth is destiny. Every demo is a sermon. They don’t just ask if it works — they ask how many trucks can I slap this on before Tampa becomes my empire.
Their business cards read like prophecies: Founder / CEO / Visionary. Their “team” is just a cousin in a borrowed polo shirt.
One Excel crash from meltdown, but in their head? They’re hoisting a golden pool net on the cover of Entrepreneur. Delusional? Sure. But they’re already mapping empires on cocktail napkins while you’re just hoping your tech shows up sober.
THE OVERWORKED MANAGER
Badge sideways. Shirt wrinkled. Sipping coffee from a D.E. scoop.
Their briefcase detonates mid-aisle: receipts, daycare slips, invoices fluttering everywhere.
The miracle isn’t that the Manager holds it together. The miracle is that nobody’s noticed they’re paddling with a broken telepole while the whole damn ship is on fire.
THE PASSIVE NETWORKER
By noon, their leak detection bucket is filled with sell sheets and caca de promo, dragging like a toddler on vacation. By three, they’re floating through the aisles on a 6-foot inflatable flamingo they stole from the hot tub booth.
They don’t network. They orbit the nacho bar like planets around the sun. They won’t close deals, but they’re the reason the afterparty devolved into limbo under a banner that read, “Ask About Our Financing Options.”
THE BRAND BUILDER
This isn’t a booth…it’s Broadway. Giveaways? Protein bars wrapped in logos, QR codes printed on churros. Last year, their logo wasn’t just on the hotel wall — it was projected into the night sky like a chlorine-scented Bat-Signal.
Overkill? Absolutely. Effective? Hell yes. They’ll put their brand on cocktail ice cubes if it means you’ll remember them the next day.
THE SIDELINE INNOVATOR
The Pelican case arrives; by lunch, they’re soldering on the carpet, and by dinner, they’ve rigged a bubbling aeration apparatus to increase pH in the hotel pool.
Half genius, half lawsuit. Hotel fire alarms trip, the expo loses power, and five years later, a major brand is selling the same contraption with a glossy label.
THE BURNOUT
Every ecosystem has its ghost. Badge dangling, tee-shirt wrinkled, they look right through you with that “thousand- pool” stare. They mutter about the past, “We used to use Simazine for black algae, but they banned it — because it worked.” Then, they vanish toward the bar.
They’re not just a cautionary tale. They’re a mirror that reflects your future — and proof that this trade eats its own, but also proof you can survive long enough to haunt the next generation.
CAN YOU SPOT ALL TWELVE?
When the lights dim, when conference loot bags sag and the espresso buzz dies, the herd scatters: airports, hotel bars, long drives into the dark. But the cycle never breaks. Next season, the Grinders will pace. The Purists will protect. The Rookies will stream. The Innovators will solder. And the Veterans, scarred and steadfast, will remind.
Because this isn’t about pumps or chemicals, it’s about the people. The safari. The culture. The ecosystem is stubborn enough to keep the water clear.
The Big 12 will be there. And so will we.
This article first appeared in the October 2025 issue of AQUA Magazine — the top resource for retailers, builders and service pros in the pool and spa industry. Subscriptions to the print magazine are free to all industry professionals. Click here to subscribe.
