Wednesday, March 8, 2017

The coffee lid incident

Some readers may remember that I have something of a beef with the "floor person" at my gym. However, for awhile, there were signs that our relationship was back to normal. For example, we were back to our routine conversation of:
her: "how are you?"
me: "good, you?"
(whatever she says).
But then this past Monday happened.

A long weekend had me hitting the complimentary YMCA coffee pretty hard. I grabbed a standard-issue Styrofoam cup, pumped some coffee in, and proceeded to take it into the gym while I wondered around assessing what physical activity was least likely to make me vomit. This was not the first time I had done this, nor would it be the last. After awhile, I settled on benching (Mondays, right bros?) and set my coffee down securely on a window ledge right next to the bench I was using.

Two minutes had not passed before I noticed the floor person in my peripheral, quickly approaching. Before I could pretend not to notice and throw myself down on the floor for some push-ups or something, she was in front of me. Time started to pass very slowly as I noticed her raising up a white object to present to me. My body quickly warmed and I began seeing red. I had not asked for a coffee cup lid, nor had I observed a sign necessitating the use of a coffee cup lid.
One could say that the law, in its majestic equality, requires both the gym floor person's friends and enemies use a plastic coffee cup lid. 

"You have to have one, in case you spill. Everyone has one." Just as I felt as if I was going to combust, I became intrigued by the last part of her attack. Everyone has one? Even if not true, she had just, either knowingly or unknowingly, admitted that she had unjustly singled me out in the past! Suddenly, feeling vindicated, I decided against making a complete and total ass of myself. Somewhat pleasantly, I replied "Oh, I did not know you all had those up there (complete and total bullshit), thanks, now I know."

I placed the lid on securely and went on my way. Meanwhile, the gym floor person acted as if she had just seen a ghost. She was not expecting a somewhat-polite exchange. She was expecting a battle. Hopefully, she now understands that I can take her "rules", if valid and equally enforced, in stride. And if that's the case, well, gym floor person, be ready for a fresh "good, you?" tomorrow morning.

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