Getting a life

I had an altercation at the gym today. I was told to get a life by a man who chose not to follow the rules and was interrupting my gym time. Sounds silly, but when you think about it, this story just shows how badly people relate to each other.

At our gym, you sign up for machines for 15 minute intervals. You can sign up for up to a half hour, but that's it. The idea is, during really busy times, everyone has a chance at a machine. No one hogs a machine. It's a fair system and it seems to work. Except when people think they don't have to follow the rules. And let me tell you, this isn't the first time this has happened.

I had spent 30 minutes working out on a stationary bike. I previously signed up for the first ski machine in a row of four. My time slot was 9:45 to 10. As the system goes, your time starts at 9:45 until the end of the 15th minute, so just as the clock is turning 10, you should get off. Very simple. It works nicely and, frankly, it's not that busy in the mornings most days.

So, I'm peddling away, feeling good, glad to be working out. As the 9:45 time approaches, I see that there is someone on the machine I have signed up for. I wonder, will this person be finished by the time I get there. When I'm finished on my bike, I clean it off with a gym wipe. That's the way it's done here. A little soggy, but at least I'm leaving the machine nice for the next person. I walk over to the ski machine and notice that Mr. Man, as I will call him, has not signed up for the time slot before mine. Which means he thinks he's exempt from the whole "sign up for your exercise time" rigmarole.

I wait a minute. It is now 9:45. Things are not looking good. Mr. Man is still working out hard. I stand slightly to one side behind him hoping to jog his memory that maybe someone else might have this machine next. He looks over and says "are you signed up on this machine?"

"Yes, at 9:45" I say. No malice, no anger, just waiting for him to get off.

He says, "I have three more minutes on here."

"Uh, I'm signed up at 9:45 that is when I should get the machine." He huffs and ignores me. I stand there for another minute and the woman working out next to him speaks.

"I'm almost done with this one, you can have it." To which I reply,

"I've signed up for that one and that's the one I'd like." Silly, I know, but I don't like to be boxed in by people and the one I chose was on the end and closer to a TV. This is one of my few chances to catch the news in the morning and without my glasses it's hard to see, so I like the machine that has a TV right in front of it. There are reasons for my madness, not that Mr. Man gives a crap.

I wait another minute and the guy is still not getting off. So, then I walk over to the "Guy in Charge." Eric, the "Guy in Charge" listens to my little rant, and at this point, I am annoyed but not angry. He walks over and as he gets into position to tell the guy to get off, Mr. Man steps off, glares at me and walks away to the drinking fountain. I am standing there when he gets back, because he has not cleaned off the machine. And let me tell you, he was sweating like a hippo in the Sahara and I did NOT want any part of that slimy machine.

He breezes by me and I tell him this is the way the system works, I sign up for a machine and I get it when I sign up for it. (As an aside here, let me note that all the other ski machines were busy and one was out of order, so there weren't any others I could take) He tells me "You need to get a life" and gets on the machine next to the slimy machine I'm supposed to use.

"So, you're not going to clean it?" I say, huffy and annoyed at this point. He glares at me again. Apparently I am annoying him with my silly rule following. He steps off, lifts his sweaty, holey white t-shirt and wipes down the hand levers with his shirt. Oh, my GOD. Disgusting. I look at his and say, "You are an ass." And I walk over to the Guy In Charge to let him know that I am really pissed now and this is just inconsiderate and rude and what is going to be done about it?

He hems and haws, feels for me, but doesn't really do anything. I decide to leave. There aren't any other machines available. I am seriously pissed off and shaking. This has disrupted my morning and I am NOT happy about it. All I wanted was 45 minutes of workout time. De-stress, relax, get healthy and some asshole has to go and be a shit. Excuse my language. I'm angry.

I go downstairs and talk to Ralph, the really funny, nice old guy who works the desk. He feels for me too, gets me calmed down, commiserates with me and most likely keeps me from going all spider monkey on Mr. Man. I talk to my friend, Tracy, for a bit, get jacked up again trying to decide if I should confront Mr. Man, let him know that he is a jerk and he has ruined my workout. I decide to take the high road.

As I'm leaving, I see the Guy in Charge again, and we chat. He apologizes. That's what I really wanted, but not from him necessarily. He says they've had problems and some people are worse than others. We commiserate and I go home. But as I'm walking, I think - really, what a jerk. Tell me to get a life? Please, I have a life. A busy life. I'm a mom, a wife, I take care of the house, clean, renovate, volunteer, run a 4-H group, listen to my mother rant about my grandmother...I'm a busy person. And I had 45 minutes to spend at the gym to de-stress. That is part of my life. It is what keeps me from going crazy. Along with a bunch of medicine...but seriously, this is not the way I like to spend my workout time.

I came home and wrote a letter to the local paper. If I can't fight Mr. Man with my fist, even though I REALLY wanted to hit him, I would write about it. We'll see if they publish it.

It seems stupid, really, when you think about it. Arguing over time on a gym machine. When there is all this crap going on in the world, people losing jobs, our economy tanking, terrorists, car crashes, people killing other people. Yes, it's really minor. But it's a part of my life. And in that little sliver of time, Mr. Man had a chance to be a decent person and he chose to be an ass. What does that say about him?