The gym I work at was originally started as a tax-subsidized gym for the elderly or injured, but we also have some heavy weights. The gym attendees are roughly one-third elderly, one-third rehab patients, and one-third serious lifters. We have strict rules to maintain a pleasant atmosphere, since it is intended as a place for health rather than ‘gainz’.

I was teaching a lady in her seventies how to deadlift (20 kgs, by order of her physical therapist) when I noticed some loud teens. They had occupied far too many racks and dumbbells, dropped weights with a lot of noise, and grunted with almost cartoonish sounds. They also meandered around, grunting and flexing, to the annoyance of everyone around.

I told them to pipe down and to follow our rules, but they told me to f*** off. I had to escalate to my manager, so I went back to my client:

Me: “Sorry, I’m going to have to make you wait for a bit. I have to handle the teens over there; it might take a while. Are you okay with waiting?”

Lady: “Ah, see, I have a tournament after this.”

Me: “Then we might need to reschedule. On the house, of course.”

Lady: “F*** no. Watch me.”

She instantly switched to looking very frail and hobbled over to the teens. In a very quavering, but quite loud, voice, she said:

Lady: “Excuse me?”

Teen: “Yeah?”

Lady: “Could I perhaps offer you a laxative?” *Rummages through her purse.*

Teen: “What? No!”

Lady: “Well, you are grunting a lot and sort of wandering around looking so very poop-faced, like you need to poop, and I thought I would help.”

Teen: “We don’t need that!”

Lady: “Then why are you grunting and slamming weights and walking around so much? There are many better ways to poop. Have a laxative!” *Holds out a bottle of pills.*

Another old lady hobbled up, rummaging through her purse.

Other Lady: “That’s no good, that’s too strong for these little boys. I think I have some half-strength laxatives here.”

Lady: “Oh, good point!”

The teens looked like they would die from embarrassment, so they packed up and left as quickly as they could. The old lady returned and finished her exercises. She could leave for her tournament on time.

What tournament? Mario Kart with her grandchildren at the local game store, of course. I hope to be her one day.

Our store sells home gyms and exercise equipment. A customer wanders over to me, red and sweaty.

Customer: “I came here to buy a treadmill, but none of them are working!”

Me: “That’s odd, I was doing a demonstration with one just this morning.”

I walk over to the treadmills with her and turn one on.

Customer: “Oh, wait… it… moved on its own?”

Me: “Uh… yes? You set the speed and elevation on these controls here.”

It was then I realised that she just stepped on all the treadmills without powering them on and was just… forcing that sucker to move through sheer force.

For context, I went to a fitness and community center with a popular four-letter song in 2025. I used to swim laps for health, and afterwards I would take a dip in the men’s locker-room hot tub. Nowadays, I don’t go to this center because I exercise at home, but this event felt like the world trying to push me in that direction.

I had just gotten done with my swimming and had just gotten in the hot tub. There was a timer for the bubbles, and I usually just set it to ten minutes, wait for the bubbles, and leave. So now I’m in the tub, and in comes another guy who sits across from me.

We end up striking up a conversation about dieting and what we are doing and stuff, a normal hot tub discussion. At one point, there was a lapse in talking, and then the guy dropped this:

Guy: “Hey, are you Christian?”

Me: “Yeah?” *I’m not.*

Guy: “Well, with all this stuff going on in the news, how are you preparing for the end of the world?”

Me: *Regretting my life choices.* “Well, I mean, I just do what I can, I guess.”

Guy: “Yeah, well, it’s good that you’re exercising, it will help prepare you for the coming storm.”

Me: “Uh, yeah…”

After that, I found an excuse to leave the tub and did. Seriously, who decides that a hot tub when I’m half naked and unable to easily leave is the best time to talk about the end times?

Customer: “I’d like to cancel my membership.”

Me: “I can help you with that, but may I ask why you’d like to cancel?”

Customer: “Have you seen me here before?”

Me: “I can’t say that I have.”

Customer: *Scans membership card.* “How long have I been a member?”

Me: *Looks at screen.* “Uh… oh, twelve years. Since we opened.”

Customer: “I don’t think I have been here five times in that time. I totally forgot I was even a member. So… yeah, I think I’d better cancel.”

Me: “I will do that for you. Y’know, now that you remembered you’re a member, you could start coming in? Your monthly rate is one of those grandfathered-in founding members rates that you’d never get again.”

Customer: “Nah. I remember signing up, thinking I wanted to be a beefcake. I only achieved half that goal… and it ain’t the beef.”

Me: “Noted!”

I had him cancelled and out of there in less than a minute.

It’s New Year’s Day, and my dad decides to become a cliché.

Dad: “Do you think the gym is open today?”

Me: “Huh? Dad, you haven’t been to the gym since… well, ever.”

Dad: “Yeah, but I don’t really fit into my shirts anymore. Your mother tried putting me in one of my nicer shirts for last night’s party, and they were all too tight.”

Me: “Have you tried dieting?”

Dad: “I figure I would try cardio so I can still eat.”

Me: “Well, my gym is open today. In fact, I was going to go for a two o’clock class.”

Dad: “Oh, cool! You can take me there later.”

Me: “I’m leaving at one, so be ready.”

Dad: “You said two!”

Me: “The class is at two. I walk there, so I give myself an hour.”

Dad: “Can’t we drive?”

Me: “I like the walk.”

Dad: “I don’t want to walk. That sounds like a lot of work.”

Me: “I… don’t think you’re going to like the gym, Dad.”