The Manager at My Gym is Stalking Me

Suspiciously posted by Killer

I will admit that I might be slacking in my workouts. Hell, it might even be fair to say that I have not actually gone to my gym in around three months. But, the manager at my gym is watching me, and it scares me silly.

I like to go to the gym anonymously. No one sees me come in. No one sees me go out. I don't want any strange comments about how long (or how short) my workout was. I don't need any "supportive" remarks from gym employees. Why are they working in a gym anyway? How much can that really pay? I have never known any kids to state at an early age, "I want to jockey the front desk at the Y."

Let me set the stage. About a year ago I joined a gym a few blocks from my apartment with the purest of intentions. I was going to, finally, get into shape. No sweat. But, as the weeks went by, my attendance at the gym grew less and less. Actually, it would be more accurate to say, as the WEEK went by. So, time flies by and I don't return to the gym for about two months. I walk in all proud of myself for leaving my apartment, walking down the street, and entering the gym. The gym manager, whom I only met on the initial sign up day, says, "Hello Michael, it's been quite a while since you have been here." Holy shit! I knew I should not have signed up for a gym called "Big Brother's Fitness Center". Either this gym has a serious lack of patrons, or this crazy lady is stalking me. As much as I have desired to some day have someone care enough to actually stalk me, it is not so cool after all.

Well, that really threw me for a loop. I could not work out very well, and left after doing about twenty minutes on the treadmill. I left very surreptitiously so she should we not be able to follow, briskly walked back home, closed all the blinds, and bolted the door. I promised myself I would go to the gym more often, as to not garner any more attention.

Close to two more months race by, and I finally returned to the gym. This time I am prepared. I walk casually by and glance sideways through the plate glass window. I don't see her at the desk, so I rush in, show my membership card, and slink past her office door. I make it to the locker room, change clothes, and as I am exiting, there she is. "Hello Michael, it is good to see you again. You should come more often." "Oh it is on Bitch," I think to myself. "It is on."

That was about three or four months ago, and I have not been back since. I actually have started speed walking around the park near my apartment. I am paying almost forty bucks a month to belong to a gym, but am terrified to attend. I don't need her judging me. Everytime I leave me apartment I am worried that she is going to be standing there, "Hello Michael..." Is all she is going to be able to say before I am going to tear ass down the street screaming like a 350 pound little girl.

I only have another year on my contract. Then I am home free.