Jed Wolf

He was an architect who designed the first outlet mall near I95 in St. Augustine. I regularly pass it on my way to sell pools out in the county. Unlike my Dad, who often complained of the restrictive influence and poor taste of shopping center developers, most of my clients are great.

When I traded in the hari-kari world of graphic design to sing for demented seniors, I thought nothing could beat reaching out to drooling people with song ’till Covid ended it.

Now, I reach out to friendly folks at planning and zoning who tell me how far pools, patios and screens must be from property lines. Then I import clients’ surveys and pool shells into a CAD program, decide what fits and how to configure everything to meet their lifestyles. 

In addition to pull down palms trees, potted lemons and poolside teddy bears for kids, he might appreciate a gas fire pit or she, a hidden pergola to enjoy wine in with her girlfriends while their husbands watch the game from the pool. Scaling and rotating is everything and my CAD program makes it simple to add mystery, humor and shading appropriate to each client.

I size them up in a second as they emerge from their front doors. As a child of alcoholics, it was vital to my survival to prepare for my unpredictable parents. Though I’ve spent much of my adult life trying to undo the temptation to judge others, I now depend on it to discern my client’s moods, tastes and needs.  

My dad used to say I was like a bird flying up it’s own ass and he knew from experience, as his parents were alcoholics too, but I wonder what he’d think if he could see me now using my intuitive skills to design for people what they want.

I run across difficult clients occasionally – rich, entitled types I knew as a kid and gird my loins as I gaze from my truck at their grand entrances filled with trophies.

I met Pete the other day at a waterfront palace I’d seen before from the high bridge I use regularly to go north along the coast. The letters printed on the tee shirt covering Pete’s big belly spelled “conspicuous,” and he leaned backwards when he walked to keep from falling forward. Without introducing himself he said he purchased the waterfront lot next door specifically to build a large rectangular pool. As we walked where he’d staked out a pool/dock/guest house, he wanted to know how big a pool would fit. “It depends on the setbacks,” I said. Pete insisted they “wouldn’t be a problem,” but I imagined they might. 

Measuring his property, I was reminded of running on seawalls as a kid. We balanced on narrow ones like slow trains plodding through St. Augustine. Anything less than two feet wide was too dangerous for high speeds. 

Despite my concerns, Pete showed me just how he and his wife wanted their pool configured, then went inside to get his survey. “He’s an engineer,” she whispered. “No problem,” I said. “My dad was an architect.”

When I got home, Ashley from zoning confirmed my concern about his setbacks and we laughed about giving clients bad news. I left that message for Pete, drew how the pools he wanted wouldn’t fit, then proceeded to draw what would, and how. As I built the virtual, never-discussed retaining wall around the freeform pool I chose for him, I was reminded of so many of my Dad’s innovative ideas being shot down over the years, and how fortunate I am not to have to support kids.

I rendered Pete’s house as best I could and imagined his pool/dock/guest house. When I took the liberty of including a gas fire pit overlooking the water, I heard him shouting, “Not one of those,” like my parents had when I’d placed a pink flamingo I’d found on our beach, near our pool. I took screenshots of my design from several angles, emailed them to Pete along with a proposal and imagined Pete shouting “God Damn it” at my boldness. 

The pool walls are two feet wide for grand kid’s to run along like trains and the holes on top of the wall for flexible positioning of umbrellas, far better than the view-obstructing pergola his wife wanted to cover half the pool. 

If they like my design and we build it, everyone will be able to see Pete’s pool from the high bridge as they do my father’s mall from I95.