Ohm

Like most people, my life has become one Big Ball of Stress. I mean, I have to work 4. Straight. Months before even getting a 2 week vacation. then, it's another 4.5. Straight. Months before I get the next one. Seriously.

Regardless, dealing with 100s of screaming, overdramatic people on an 8 month basis can take its toll. And don't even get me started on the students.

*rimshot!*

Everyone has their own reason for running. Lose weight, competition, blah blah blah. Mine is simply for stress management. Don't get me wrong, losing weight and pushing my limits was a nice added bonus, but I have (had...working on that) running in my life so I don't snap like a dry twig and go off on someone.

In my neck of the woods, it's getting pretty damn cold here. That, and my normal routine of getting up at Crack Ass O' Dawn to go running has been conveniently replaced by setting my alarm for 4:45am and then changing it to 5:45am. It's quite a workout, lemme tell ya.

Enter yoga. Breathing, stretching, hanging out in the back of the studio with women in yoga pants. My kind of activity, right? Well, at my old gym*, they offered a yoga class at 7pm. Perfect. Throw some food down my kids' throats, throw them in the bathtub, hand them off to mom, and I was off to the gym.

The first couple of instructors were pretty good. They actually taught the class and helped out. The next 3 were a hodgepodge at best:

1. The instructor who forgot she was teaching and kept going with poses without a word. This would go on for about 3 or 4 minutes at a time.
2. The instructor who had us standing on our heads within 15 minutes of class "just to try it out and see if you can do it."We couldn't do it and we were all pissed off after the class.
3. The instructor who wore a fanny pack.

Through dumb luck, I found out where my first 2 instructors went to go teach and I went to their studio. Not only did they let me try out the class for free, but it was probably the best exercise class I've been to. 

Was I the only guy there? Pretty much. I mean, there was another guy there, but I was the only guy there (2 snaps up in a circle**). Once the suburbia soccer moms and Neil, their "designer friend" stopped gossiping and started yoga-ing, the vibe was fine. And, after I got over the "you want me to do WHAT?" poses, it went smoothly. And then she put oil on my feet. Weird.

Very. Weird.

Regardless, I continue to go back every other week or so. I suppose if I started running on a consistent basis, I could almost be considered "fit" or "in cross training". 

Ohm.

*at least I think it's my old gym. Depends on if they're going to remember to stop billing me...which they won't.


**I plan on more 90's TV references if I write on a more consistent basis (doubtful).

The Break Up

Hey look! I know the password to my blog!


Let's just jump right in, shall we? Here's the story of how I quit my gym.


There is a Friends episode where Chandler and Ross try to quit their gym but they can't because some hot trainer/membership woman convinces them that they need to stay. I was hoping that that was going to be the case when I went in to cancel my membership. 

When I walked in, the front desk kid was nice enough. I mean, he took the time to break away from his cell phone to talk to me. He told me to wait and someone would be right out.  I waited....and waited...and waited. All the while, I could see the corner of the manager's office. It's glass, so I could see this member (former member?) just screaming at the managers. Absolutely SCREAMING. There were tears, bulging neck veins, profanities (I know a good F bomb when I see it), etc. I went back to the front desk after about 15 minutes and they told me that I should probably come back another time and that she'd been in there for about 45 minutes. Red flag.

Day 2. Go back, ask for the manager, check the glass encasement/office for disgruntled members and wait....wait...wait. No one after about 10 minutes. Why, you ask? Because all of the managers are stringing Christmas lights on the railings....despite being paged twice. How many managers does it take to string 20 feet of Christmas lights? Apparently, all five of them. I had to wait for all of them to finish when one of them finally acknowledged that a (still) paying member wanted to talk with them.

Finally, I am scuttled in to the manager's office and am told to sit down. Mind you, no handshake has been extended nor a "why do you want to quit the gym?", not even an introduction to who this guy is. I kept looking for The Hot Chick (aka - a "closer") to come in and convince me to stay, but no dice. Nope. This guy just sat down in front of his computer, completely facing the other way. 

So, I start a convo with the back of this guy's head. Here's how the rest of it went once I sat down:

Me: So, since I've paid for first and last month's dues, all I owe is the $20 cancellation fee?

Back of Manager's Head (BMH): Yeah

Me: Ok.

BMH: Name

Me: Matt

BMH: (exasperated) last name.

Me: (last name).

BMH: spell it.

Me: (I spell it) 

*I'm now getting pissed, but I now want to jack with this guy.

Me: Isn't my info on the screen right there (it was)?

BMH: Different Screen. Address?

Me: It's a different screen?

BMH: Yeah. I'd have to switch back and forth.

Me: Oh, sorry about that. On my computer, I just hit "alt-tab".

BMH: Hm

Me: Must be a different type of computer, too.

(this goes on, obviously. Rest assured, he did not utter a multi-syllabic word)
BMH: Ok, you're done.

Me: Can I get some sort of documentation that I quit?

BMH: What do you mean?

Me: Yeah, something that proves that I quit so, if I get billed next month, I have proof that I've terminated this contract.

BMH: I guess. So....(thinks)....like a receipt?

Me: Sure. Give me a receipt.

BMH: (sighs and punches a few more keys on the keyboard) Here ya go. If there are any questions, just come back and show us this receipt.

Swear to God it's like a receipt you would get from your dry cleaner.  I have no doubt that when (not if) I get billed next month, this will hold up in court.