Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Exercising somebody's patience

I switched jobs a year ago last August. One of the "perks" of my new job is that they have a fitness center at the office park where I work and you can have access for a one-time enrollment fee of only $10. (Can't beat that!) You have to actually sign up though, and so I have worked there for what, 20 months, without having stepped foot in the fitness center. Not good, I know. I have no good excuse for you.

FINALLY today I signed up and went to the fitness center. I think they need to have some kind of orientation or remedial training or something because I may not go in for another 20 months after making a total fool of myself.

Did not have a lock for the locker. Duh. Did not even think of it, as last fitness center I used was at my old job and the lockers had locks where you took the key with you and brought it back when you were done exercising. Fortunately asked stupid questions to the other ladies in the locker room, so they knew I was a newbie. This came in handy a few minutes later when I started walking on an open treadmill. One of the ladies from the locker room walks up and says "You said this was your first time, right?" Uh oh. She points over to this big complicated grid on the wall where apparently you are supposed to reserve the machine you want to use. And you can use said machine for 30 minutes max. Apparently this is all intuitive to the more fitness oriented individual or those with more muscles than me perhaps. Fortunately this lady, whose machine I was now using was kind enough to let me use her machine and did not shoot me on site.

I was still confused by the board, as you reserve by machine # and I saw no number on the treadmill I was using. So this muscle dude comes over, starts talking to me like I am a mentally deficient individual and says "Two. You're on machine two." Okay, more secret athlete knowledge. Then he points to the base of the machine where the "2" sticker is. Got it. Now to figure out the board. He says "The red numbers are the machines". I look at the ginormous board. There are 2 sets of numbers side by side, red and burgundy-ish. I start wondering what the burgundy numbers are for and why they didn't choose more disparate colors, when muscle man continues his remedial training for me, again pointing to the board again with the red numbers and machines talk and how you log your time in 10 minute increments up to 30 minutes, yadda yadda. I guess I am somewhat worthy of the idiot treatment, as I am still looking at the board trying to figure out the red column vs burgundy column. I start to ask why and he cuts me off and explains that they have times for all day - they start with the morning going down one side and the times continue down the other side. Apparently is just a fluke that the #s are two different colors. OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh. I see.

So then I say, "and what time is it?". He points, and not 6 inches above said board that I have been examining is a clock. :) Oi vey. Perhaps his assessment of me was justified after all. Maybe I should keep to reading in the evenings, as my brain appears to need some exercise too.

May not revisit the fitness center for a while. Or maybe I can wear a disguise...

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