Confession time: Blogging isn't the only thing I've been slacking on for the past year plus.
I haven't been to a gym in nearly as long. And while I'd like to believe my jaunts around the neighborhood with my dog are enough, I probably burn more calories going to Target. I tried to go running once, but I hate running. Absent of opportunities for fun physical activity, like hiking, I need a gym. And I can't find a suitable one where I live now.
When we lived in our condo, my husband and I belonged to a gym that was a five minute drive away. It had all of the amenities we wanted (good classes, a pool, the place didn't smell like feet), and it was affordable. When we moved into our house a year ago, I was excited to learn that the gym had not one, but two, locations close to us.
The excitement was short-lived. The locations were close, yes, but not really convenient. Thanks to traffic, either one was at least a 20-minute drive each way. That was enough for me never to use the pool or take a class, and enough for my husband never to step foot in either location. Once our yearly commitment was up, we cancelled our membership.
Lately, though, I've been wanting to get back into a workout routine. I feel better when I exercise -- if not physically, at least morally. (I don't want to be the last straw in the obesity epidemic, after all.) I tried to do some of the free workouts on Comcast, but I couldn't find too many that I liked. And the gyms that are close enough to my house are either bare bones or way too expensive.
Then, last week, my friend JG sent me an e-mail saying that her gym -- the way too expensive one -- was having a sign-up special. No registration fee, no "convenience fee," or whatever they call the thing they slap on you for extra money. And it's a month-to-month commitment. Hoping maybe they'd cut their monthly fees a little too (bad economy and all), I dropped in the other day.
That's when I met Steve.
Steve isn't his real name, by the way; I just call him that because he looked a little like Steve Buscemy. And to be perfectly frank, that's kind of an insult to the actor. He was this little, weaselly looking guy in his 20s, wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt, unbuttoned far enough that the white wife beater was clearly visible underneath. He had intentionally greasy hair and uneven facial whiskers...and he reeked.
I don't know if this particular gym has a corporate partnership with Axe body spray or what, but by Steve's look and demeanor, I was pretty sure he had doused himself in something awful in the hopes of capturing the attention of some of the ladies.
Note: I actually have no idea what Axe body spray smells like. But I'm pretty sure a product that advertises with the phrase "double pits to chesty" can't smell good.
Anyway, Steve told me about the pricing, scribbling it illegibly on a piece of paper for me to take home. He explained that if I signed up that day, I would be charged a pro-rated price of $36 for the rest of the month, then the full amount ($60) starting on the first of next month. There was a discount if my husband signed up too, but for me, it really wasn't enough to justify the steep monthly fee. It's a super nice gym, with a spa and juicebar and everything. But as an underemployed freelance writer, I just can't afford it right now.
I knew Steve wouldn't let me say "no thanks" and leave, so I tried to use my husband as a scapegoat.
"Alright, well, let me talk to my husband and see if he's interested, and I'll let you know," I said.
"You can sign up today without him," Steve said, his desperation reeking as much as his cologne. "You can still get the couple rate if he signs up within two weeks. And it's only $36 for you for the rest of this month, so really, that's your best deal."
I wasn't sure how that was my "best deal" unless I had taken workout gear with me that very day (I hadn't), but I wasn't about to argue semantics with him.
"Sixty a month is really more than I can really pay right now," I told Steve, picking up my purse. "Thanks anyway."
"Alright, then, I'll call you Thursday and see what you've decided."
Again, it wasn't worth my time to argue. My husband had pork chops on the grill; I wanted to get home.
So today, Steve gave me a call, asking what I had decided, helpfully letting me know that my pro-rated charge for the remainder of this month would now only be $32 if I signed up today. I told him again that it was just too expensive.
"Thirty-two dollars is too expensive?" Steve asked, and I was pretty sure I could detect a slight sneer, even over the phone.
"That's only for the next two weeks," I told him, as if this was new information to him. "It goes up to $60 on the first. That's not money I have to spend right now."
He told me to call him if I changed my mind. I rolled my eyes and hung up.
Tomorrow, I just might go sign up at the crappy gym down the road. Even if it smells like feet, it would be an improvement over the stench of Steve.
2 comments:
The only time I ever did well in a gym setting was when my husband and I first started dating. By the time we married, I was working 3-11 shift and the gym membership lapsed.
If you don't want the bare-bones gym and need something fun, what about a dance class or karate or something like that? Does your neighborhood have any bicycle-friendly sections?
There's a whole bicycle trail through my neighborhood, so I may end up doing some of that this summer. I wouldn't mind taking a dance class, but it seems that most dance classes in my area are for children. But I haven't done that much investigating, so perhaps I'll take another look.
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