Swimply: Renting Willing Strangers’ Pools For Profit

The “sharing economy” is a quaint admission that, unlike prior generations, you can’t afford to own things because wages have not kept pace with corporate profit.

Share your car with Lyft, share your home with Airbnb, share your clothes with The Real Real, and now share your backyard pool with Swimply.

Yes, that’s right, homeowners with a backyard pool can list it on Swimply to make it pay its way.

Investors agree with the opportunity, recently providing $10 million in funding to the 2018 startup. According to Swimply COO Asher Weinberger, Swimply is made possible because of, “The shifting mindset from younger generations about ownership … ” A loose translation might be that younger generations make too little to afford what their parents did (or are too impatient to save like their parents).

The Tainted History of Backyard Pools

At the 100th anniversary of the burning of Tulsa’s Black Wall Street, another possible translation might go back slightly further.

The 1950’s desegregation of public pools was codified in the 1971 Supreme Court ruling in Palmer v. Thompson.  That case allowed Jackson, Mississippi, to close four of its five public pools and lease the fifth to the YMCA to operate as white-only.  But prior to that case, hundreds of public pools closed rather than allow blacks to swim.

One standout was the enormous Fairground Park pool in St. Louis with a capacity of 10,000. On its first desegregated swim, a mob of 5,000 whites surrounded the pool hosting 30-ish black swimmers, attacking any black person in the vicinity. Annual pool attendance plummeted from 313,000 to 10,000 and was closed six years later. Like the Tulsa riot, I bet this is the first time many of you have heard of the Fairground Park Riot of 1950, as you likely believed the lack of municipal pools was about insurance liability.

So there might be a market to rent strangers’ backyard pools because wages have not kept pace, and municipalities across the U.S. closed their public pools rather than have black people swim in the same water (resulting in the huge growth in private backyard pools and paid swim clubs).

Swimply All Over Dallas

History taught, Swimply has 94 pools currently listed ranging from $18/hour to $100/hour with most in the $30-$60/hour range throughout Dallas. The search tool offers amenity levels – pools with diving boards, grills, hot tubs, and those that are pet-friendly, heated, and those with an official restroom (I say official because don’t we all suspect there’s a lot of peeing in the ones that don’t?).

Pools are categorized by location and number of guests it will support.  The leading picture pool is in Forney and seems a veritable bargain at $100/hour. Among its amenities are a bathroom, grill, tables, chairs, umbrellas, volleyball court, outdoor shower, fire pit and Wi-Fi access. The $100 rate includes up to 10 guests but will support 50 charging $3/guest after the initial 10.

For those not wanting a party pool out in the country, there’s this Oak Cliff offering at $20/hour limited to five guests – and with an “adult oriented topiary tree,” perfect for a couples (or thruples) getaway. The owners admit working from home, but they’ll close the shades.

Holy Liability, Batman!

The first thing I thought of when I saw Swimply is insurance.

Pools are magnets for accidents. Pool parties are gravitational in attracting accidents. To their credit, U.S. pool hosts are “eligible” for up to $1 million of insurance covering guest injury and $10,000 coverage for property damage. There is a $250 or $500 “contribution” (deductible) for reservations under or over 10 guests.

But there are some big caveats. The insurance covers only pool and grill injuries (so not Forney’s volleyball court or fire pit nor any swings, trampolines, etc.).  Ditto “Losses arising from intentional acts, including but not limited to: (i) assault and battery, (ii) sexual abuse or molestation, (iii) identity theft or fraud.” And the big get out of jail free card, “Injuries or losses arising from liquor liability.” 

And if someone drowns?  Don’t expect $1 million to begin to cover the award from that lawsuit.

What’s the risk?  According to the Centers for Disease Control, on average 3,536 people drown per year between 2004 and 2014 (10 per day – but most pools are seasonally used). Additionally, 73 percent of pool injuries involved children under 15 years old and males were twice as likely as females to be hurt. Of fatal drownings, 75 percent of child drownings were in backyard pools. And for the adults, 70 percent of pool injuries involve alcohol.

Based on this, if I had to rent my pool, I’d limit it to adult, female-only AA meetings.

The Selfish Economy

But I don’t share. And that’s my whole thing. I don’t share and I don’t patronize those who do. I stay in hotels or I don’t go. I drive or take a regular taxi or I don’t go. I buy clothes I can afford, I don’t buy with the plan to sell it. Similarly, I wouldn’t rent a pool in a stranger’s backyard – I would feel so weird.  

But clearly many do not have these issues.

A Commodius New Throne-Sharing Economy

I just had a lightning bolt of an idea.

I’ll start Flushly, a new app for those who want to rent out their bathrooms to passersby. Given that restaurants and stores have barred use of their bathrooms and Dallas’ paucity of public restrooms –just 16 parks have public restrooms according to the Trust for Public Lands – my location adjacent to the Katy Trail, seems ideal.

In 2018, commercial restroom products maker Bradley Corporation’s annual hand-washing survey found that 56 percent of Americans would pay to use a clean, well-stocked toilet. So I might be on to something.   

The Katy Trail says that they host 1.5 million annual walkers – if even one percent need a loo, that’s 15,000 urges I can profit from. If I change $1 for #1 and $2 for #2 and if we assume a 90/10 split, that’s $16,500 per year. If I assume those base prices cover the powder room, I could charge more for the guest bath and maybe even double for the master bathroom.  If I allowed the sweat-soaked to book my showers and bathtub, I‘d be flush from flushes. 

But why stop there? 

I’ve got a washer and dryer I don’t use 24/7. I can imagine the washerless finding laundry less of a chore in a private Turtle Creek high-rise versus a public laundromat. And while they’re waiting for their laundry to clear the spin cycle, I could charge to sit on the patio, nap on the sofa, watch TV and certainly nickel and dime with snacks and drinks – cha-ching if they then needed the toilet!

I could easily generate enough extra dough to pay my property taxes and HOA dues.

But I won’t, because I don’t buy things I can’t afford and I don’t share.