Worry about the quiet dishwasher. A slow seep under the tub gets to the subfloor — or the ceiling of the unit below — months before a single drop shows on the kitchen floor.
So a dishwasher once-over begins on the floor: kick panel off, a flashlight into the pan beneath the tub, the tide lines and rust read for what has been happening down there. Then a cycle runs with Wes watching — the door seating, the water level, the spray force, how fast the sump drains — and the slip is written before the racks go back.

Nearly everything on this map drinks the same soft aquifer water, which means cloudy glassware here is nearly always too generous a dose of detergent and rinse aid, and the honest slip is a lighter scoop rather than a pump. The exceptions are the well-fed edges — Clements Ferry, the acreage past Park West — where the cloud is mineral and a filter or a rinse-aid top-up is the cure. The ledger notes which water each kitchen drinks, so the next visit starts from there.
East Cooper’s townhome rows and condo buildings took their dishwashers in builder orders, and those machines fail in waves — the same drain pump across a row of I’On townhomes in one season, the same door latch across a Daniel Island building the next. Wes keeps the pattern in the ledger, and an HOA board or a property manager gets findings in writing that survive a meeting. Storm season adds the East Cooper special: a control board frozen halfway by a power blink, which looks dead and is not, and gets a proper reset before a board is priced.
Pumps for washing and draining, fill valves, spray arms, door gaskets, latches and boards can all be fixed at the sink once Wes knows the model; a cracked tub is the single finding no repair is worth, and when the pan shows one the slip says retire. A dishwasher that has worked itself loose from the counter — half the calls from rentals — gets bolted back down and leveled on the same visit.
The cheap, likely cause gets a meter before the dear, unlikely one gets a mention.
| What you notice | What Wes reads first |
|---|---|
| Water left in the bottom | Drain pump, check valve, the high loop in the hose |
| Cloudy or gritty glasses | Dosing against the water source; filter; spray arms |
| Flood sensor locks the panel | Pan wiped dry, cycle run, drip located |
| Kick panel damp at one end | Door gasket, hinge, tub seam |
| A three-hour cycle | Heater, thermistor, how much water gets in |
| Tablet still in the cup | Cup latch, spray reach, how the racks were loaded |
Because water is still reaching the pan under the tub — a reset only hushes the alarm. Wes dries the pan, runs a cycle, finds the drip, and repairs the drip.
Usually the fill valve or the float, neither of them a long job. First, though, look under the sink: a stop valve nudged closed during some other plumbing work is behind a surprising number of these calls.
Aquifer water: too generous with the detergent. Well water: minerals. Two different cures, neither a new dishwasher — the once-over says which one your sink is getting.
One soft water almost everywhere, wells on the Clements Ferry edge — your area’s page tells you what the once-over expects to find at your sink.
Aquifer-water film; townhome rows aging in batches.
Packages by the street; the machine that has walked out from under the counter.
Rows in batches; mineral film on the Clements Ferry wells.
Ocean air on the plugs, a summer of renters on the racks.
Compact European units in tight kitchens.
A light goes into the pan under the tub before a single rack comes out.