I would like to start this morning’s post by noting that my little brother has somehow obtained my Y card.
I have a repeat offender status at the Y in regard to losing my membership card, so I felt some mild anxiety over this fact.
The last time I lost the card, it ended in a standoff between myself and a Y employee, who sternly pointed me to the membership desk after typing in my name one too many times at the desk.
I vowed I wouldn’t lose the card again, since the likelihood that I’d run into this guy again was high, and quite frankly, he’d both embarrassed and irritated me with his excessive sighing at 5:45 am when manually entering my information.
I will point out that it took fifteen seconds, and really, there’s no line at the Y at that hour.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Last night I headed to the gym after work to get in a run, and when I walked up to the membership desk, who was there but my psuedo-nemisis?
I put my head down, mumbled sorry, and slid my license across the desk.
He glared at me.
I ran 5.5 miles, feeling pretty good, and convinced myself that a morning workout today would make up for all the baked goods I was sampling.
So I woke up early today and dragged myself to the gym, only to be confronted by This Guy again.
Seriously? Doesn’t the YMCA have some kind of labor policies that say you can’t be working until 7:30 PM and then again at 5:30 AM?
In any case, I had to confess that again I didn’t have my card.
SorrymylittlebrotherhasitI’llgetittomorrow which quite frankly is a lie, since I won’t see my brother until the weekend.
God help me if he’s there again tomorrow, I thought.
He didn’t even take my information, and instead looked at me pointedly.
“Maybe next time?” he said, gesturing to my wallet.
I nodded and walked into the locker room, but actually, I wanted to punch him.
I worked out for an hour, thinking about how I am, you know, a fairly responsible human being, and it’s not like I lose stuff all the time, it’s just a coincidence that he had happened to encounter me the two times something went missing, and maybe if he ever took a day off, he wouldn’t have been so annoyed by me.
By the time I walked out of the building, I had resolved to just nod a goodbye in his direction and not make eye contact.
I’m such a bad ass.
Except that he stopped me.
How does he know my name? I thought. Probably he had my name on a list somewhere of people who he had it out for. Other innocent membership card-forgetters.
“I think you maybe dropped these?” he said (smugly, I think, although I could be making that up for dramatic effect), and handed me my Ravinia membership card and the security card I use to get into my building at work.
“They look important.” Again, smug smile in my direction. I thanked him and scurried out, once again beat by my own self.
I’ll be working out from home until I get that card back, chickadees.
You can count on that.