Frank Dobbins vs. The Broken Water Fountain

For three weeks, the water fountain near the 10th tee stood lifeless. Members grumbled. Staff murmured. The heat bore down.

And yet, no water flowed.

This was not just a broken fixture. This was a battle. And standing at the center of it was Frank Dobbins, Director of Facilities Maintenance, a man whose utility cart is never far from his side and whose toolbelt carries everything but urgency.

Week One: “I’ll Get to It”

The first reports trickled in. The water pressure was weak. The button stuck. A few members noted that it tasted “a little off”, though nobody could specify what off actually meant.

Frank was alerted immediately. He was seen near the fountain, inspecting it with the solemn air of a man diagnosing a far greater issue than hydration.

“This ain’t just a button fix,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Might be a pipe thing. Could be deeper than we think.”

The fountain remained unfixed.

Week Two: The Mysterious Parts Delay

By the second week, tempers were rising.

• Members resorted to bringing their own bottled water, which offended The Velvet Taproom staff—who argued that “if you needed hydration that badly, a proper drink could be arranged.”
• One golfer attempted to use a fairway sprinkler instead. That ended poorly.
• A growing conspiracy formed that Frank was intentionally stalling the repair to justify his budget request for “a better cart with more storage.”

Frank, however, had an explanation.

“This ain’t just a part swap,” he said, now carrying a clipboard to make things look official. “We need a special-order valve. Factory made. Custom fit. Not something you just pick up at the hardware store.”

By this point, Chip Wexley, the Golf Course Superintendent, had lost patience.

“It’s a water fountain, not a nuclear reactor,” he growled.

The fountain remained unfixed.

Week Three: Victory, but at What Cost?

At the end of week three, a miracle occurred.

The water fountain was restored. The button worked. The water pressure was adequate.

And yet, the announcement of its repair came not from Frank, but from a junior maintenance worker, who had “just tightened a few things.”

Frank, visibly annoyed, dismissed such claims. “It’s always easy when you show up at the end,” he grumbled. “Nobody sees the prep work. The planning. The complexities behind the scenes.”

Members were too dehydrated to care.

Where We Go From Here

The fountain works now. But questions remain:

• Did Frank overcomplicate things?
• Was there ever actually a missing part?
• Will it mysteriously break again just before next year’s budget review?

One thing is certain—the next maintenance request at Willow Dunes will be met with deep, skeptical sighs.