On Saturday morning I find myself in a very wealthy area of North London under circumstances which I’m not going to explain here and as I walk into the tube station to go central for the gym…
…I spot three girls. These girls are posh. They are in the early/mid 20s and they all have expensive, neat, blonde long hair and nice expensive but subtle clothes (of course proper rich, posh people don’t wear obvious brands – they leave that to the gays and poor people who max out their credit cards to buy a Louis Vuitton logo with some bag behind it) and their accents, oh their accents. These are accents formed in years of boarding school and NEVER interacting with people from the working classes.
Obviously I fall in love with these girls (one in particular actually) and stay close enough and the following things happen:
- They are talking about a weekend away that’s coming up and this weekend away involves boat trips, perhaps boat races, I’m not quite sure. They refer to “the boys” (this kind of people have huge circles of mixed friends they go way back with – they went to school together, their parents know each other) and they discuss how there should be mixed groups of boys / girls on each boat, otherwise “the boys” might get “too boisterous” and “competitive”. This is a world I want to be in
- On the platform, I intend to keep near them to continue listening in, but I don’t need to try too hard. They are staying close to me as well, I think they also have a passing interest. I put this down to the fact that I’m wearing deck shoes, stripy shirt with collar up and a navy jumper. My appearance is deceptive, they think I might be one of them, little do they know I would give my right arm to be
- When the train comes, it’s absolutely packed. We go in through the same door and stand on breathing distance from each other. They continue to chat (posh people have no consideration for others in public places) and discuss how appalling and overcrowded public transport is. One of them says: “I mean if you’re ever going to be this hot, you might as well be on a sunbed”. I almost turn straight
- One stop later I get off, never to see them again, apart from in some hallucination perhaps, sitting in some club toilets, imagining what it’s like to be normal, straight, carefree, well-bred, happy
On Tuesday this week, I go to the gym after work, only to find out that I’ve left my membership card on my desk in the office. So I says can I come in anyway (for God’s sake I’m here every day, you know me). The manager woman (that says it all really) said no, rules are rules: you can only go to your Home Club if you don’t have your card with you (the Home Club is where you initially registered and mine is about 2 tube stops away from the club I usually go to). So I says, this has happened before and you just rang my Home Club and checked and you let me in. She says no, I can’t do that. Whoever did that last time was wrong.
After about 5 minutes of this (asking her what different it makes, how it will affect her job if she lets me in, telling her she’s ruining my evening), I have to leave and get the tube to the next gym and walk there, which adds about 20 minutes to my schedule, 20 minutes that could have been spent sitting on my couch watching Frasier.
And can you imagine if my Home Club had been miles away? I would not have been able to work out at all. Oh my God this is making me angry right now as I’m typing.
On the one hand I don’t really blame that woman, because she’s a complete moron, I mean she has a lame-ass job in a gym after all, but on the other hand, her politeness could have overcome her stupidity, but no, it didn’t.
And even though expecting somebody like that to show initiative and take the situation in their hands is a bit like expecting the monkeys in the zoo to feed themselves and lock their cage every night, I am still quite infuriated this Tuesday evening. But it’s OK, I have plenty of time while I’m stewing in my anger to come up with a payback plan.
And this payback plan (also known as: How Can I Fuck Up These Inflexible Unhelpful Bastards) involves continuing to go the same gym daily, but taking my revenge through the following actions:
- Opening the container and emptying the remaining shower gel they provide in the shower after I’m done with it (every day)
- Throwing blue paper towel in the toilet so as to block it – at least twice
- Never returning the weights where they belong
- Hiding the towels – not returning them after I’m done
- Leaving rubbish in the lockers
So basically they could have let me train without my card for once, which would have had no negative consequence on anyone, or they could be dealing with a series of never-ending gym faux-pas, bad etiquette, increased expenditure and some really annoying plumbing problems. They chose the latter.
I realize that some of the suggestions above are not aimed at the gym management and could harm customers or the poor cleaners instead, so please if you have any better ideas, let me know.