Jonathan Goes To The Gym
We had four lectures in the morning, back - to - back. This wasn't enormously stressful on the brain, but I had packed my clothes in advance and was looking forward to finally heading off to the Gym at 1 O'clock. It was something I'd been putting off for a while, but today I resolved to do it, and indeed when the bell tolled and the rustling of pencilcases was heard, I felt I had enough energy to fulfil my task.
I'd actually intended to go to the gym in Cardiff for quite some time - I won't count last year, or the year before (mere formalities), so we'll say that as soon as I came back, at the end of September, I had been planning it.
The way I see it, there are two groups of people who wish to go to a place where your only purpose is to inflict harm upon yourself to feel good (no, I'm not talking about the pub.) There's the fitness freaks, the normal dudes who just wanna stay fit, and the people who are determined to avoid an early death. And then there's the other guys, the ones which would like to be super buff, but can't quite make it down the street to the gym, or the guys who always *mean* to go, but something gets in the way, you know? Well, I'd like to pretend I'm in category 1b.
I'd put off going for so long because I was meant to go with a close friend. Unfortunately, this friend always seemed to have house parties and socials, whatever they are, and seemed insistent that these events came before my attempts to lengthen my lifespan. Who was I to insist otherwise? In the end, I got fed up of waiting and just decided to go myself.
After a decent 20 minute walk from my place of education to the hall of sweat and iron, I arrived, and went in through a large, futuristic - looking foyer. I walked past, and ignored, two little touchscreen stands, which I assumed were just money harvesting machines similar to the ones you get in the local, the things that drain all your money with questions like "What colour was the scarf Denise wore in Episode 214 of Coronation Street?". I then proceeded up the stairs, which could perhaps qualify as a taster session.
After the stairs came the real challenge. A glass wall, with a sort of high - security door system. To enter, it seemed you needed to enter a code into a panel on the wall, then the front door would open, you'd be scanned for firearms and steroids, and then you'd actually be let into the gym. Obviously, I didn't have a code. I was there to join, you see. Unfortunately, without a members password, I couldn't get in to talk to anyone TO join. It was a catch - 22 situation.
I did notice a buzzer, with a sign saying "Press if you require staff help." Unfortunately, the sign also had the little bell on it, similar to the one you see in lifts. You never, ever press the bell in lifts, not even if it's broken. It's only something used if you're hurtling to your death, or someone's body parts are stuck in the doorway on floor 4 and a half. Pushing that buzzer would be like admitting I had less common sense than a hillbilly meerkat on moonshine, and of course, my grandoise level of self worth made that option unavailable. Consequently, I had to do something else.
So, I did what any clever monkey would do. I hung around, with a distracted look on my face, seeing if anyone knew of an alternative way to get in. About five people entered, all using the high - security keypad. It seemed inpenetrable. If only Germany was divided in half with this sort of device, there would have been far less Soviet defections. Eventually a woman, roughly in her thirties caught me red handed trying to deconstruct what she was doing. The awkwardness bomb immediately detonated.
"...Do you need any help?"
"I'm... I'm just trying to get in, that's all."
"Oh, right."
"...I have no idea how to operate this thing."
"Oh..."
"I have to sign up downstairs, that's what I have to do, probably."
"Oh, yes, right."
The woman shot me a polite smile and left inside, probably thinking I was as capable as Boris Johnson. I returned downstairs, and proceeded to try and use the touchscreen / keyboard device to sign in. It wanted details, details, details. It was all well and good up until it asked for my postcode, which I hadn't remembered. I'd only just moved in after all! With sour rage, I cancelled my attempt to join and stormed off home.
What boggled the mind throughout all of this was there was no way for me to actually preview the gym before entering, short of asking a member of staff to come and help me like an eight year old child. £18 a month is a lot of money to spend on something you haven't had the ability to judge yet. What's worse, is that there was nobody on hand to help me through my door difficulties, even though it was incredibly busy (a fact which made my embarassment even worse.)
As I seethed off home, another day ruined by technological entanglement, I thought, "Fine! I'll just join it online then!" and then of course I felt the biggest idiot. They probably have screenshots, too! Nonetheless, it didn't stop me from stopping off at Burger King like a fool and buying some disgusting fast food out of spite.
***
Yes, this actually happened.
Author
Topic: Things that made you RRRRRRAAAAGGGGEEEE today: Trust-o-nomics Edition (Read 3748632 times)