Weird title huh? I know, but I thought I would do my best Tarantino impression and start with the end and fill in the gaps as we go. And I just shot Marvin in the face!
Anyway, it started over a year ago when we joined a local gym in our neighborhood. The standard health reasons for joining you can probably assume, but the ACTUAL reason that we chose the one that we did (and we still belong) is because there is free parking. The redeeming qualities of the gym (which will remain nameless) end there. And for what we get, the $63 a month that we pay really seems like extortion. Come on! A buddy of mine goes to an NYC rec center and pays $75 a year. Granted, he has to stay alert at all times and there is a high stabbing rate, but I think I could handle it. I used to watch OZ.
And I understand that places like Equinox and NYSC are even more, but you probably get what you pay for. What we get is an unfriendly staff, really shitty Queens electro Euro-trash pop music and headphone connections that never work for their four televisions. What are we? Amish? And seriously, is it me or shouldn’t the staff at a FITNESS CENTER look like they use the equipment every once in a while? Honestly, I think ten percent of the workforce has ever worked out. Even when one of them does, you wish they hadn’t. Like the one time the manager’s vajay jay was quite visible due to her unflattering and unnecessarily short shorts.
They try to compensate for their shortcomings by offering four dollar smoothies and classes like the dance class that I talked about in my last post and a boxing class taught by a guy who I’m pretty sure fought Joe Lewis (use the Google).
I know at this point, you may be thinking, “Stop whining and switch gyms then!” Well, that’s exactly what we did. Or at least we tried to. As I eluded to earlier, we are still frequenting this Meat Head Mecca. We finally concluded that free parking trumps everything. But before we had to concede defeat, we explored our options….or option I should say. Ally and I went to visit a new Planet Fitness (famous for its $19.95 per month policy). It was great inside; plenty of equipment, plenty of tv’s and best of all, it was cheap. We left, feeling excited but a little dirty like we had cheated on a lover. The following week, we mustered up enough courage to break it off with the other gym.
We marched straight up to the counter to the most unfriendly employee they have and said, “We’d like to cancel our membership.”
“Why,” she responded arrogantly, sticking her pierced nose up at us.
“Uh, because Planet Fitness is only $20 per month and I can save $500 a year if we switch,” was my retort.
I was prepared for the worst and yet secretly hoped it would be like the episode of Friends when Chandler tries to quit his gym, but they get the super hot chick to convince him otherwise.
No, not even close. Her first response. Her first inkling. The thing that she thought beyond a shadow of a doubt would convince us to stay was, “You know they don’t let you grunt there.”
Insert title here.
“Uh, hold on, I have to get Jerry the manager,” she muttered.
So Jerry comes over, all smiles, ready to keep us in his Thunderdome. Again, we tell him that we’re going to Planet Fitness. He proceeds to assure us that we’ll be back and that several members previously switched to Planet Fitness but ultimately ended up back there. He finally agreed to let us go. We were free at last, free at last. No longer did we have to deal with this place and awful members who stare at their abs in the mirror (a daily occurrence).
But alas, like those dysfunctional relationships that you just can’t get out of, we got back together. We couldn’t let go of the parking. It was like they knew something horrible about us, and in order to keep that secret, we agreed to go back to them. And we’re still together today. But the itch is back to switch again. And this time, we’re staying local. We won’t need parking because we can walk to this gym. We would have switched earlier but it’s more expensive so we were hesitant. But it doesn’t matter anymore, we can’t take it. So when we break up again, you’ll hear about it. Here we go! Like a Band Aid!