(I am working out at my gym on one of the recumbent bikes. Beside me, a technician is working on four of the eight treadmills. He’s sealed up two and tested them. A woman walks up and points to one of the machines still being worked on. The technician is Latino.)

Woman: “That’s my favorite.”

(The treadmill in question is still in pieces. Trying to be helpful, I point to the two that have been completed.)

Me: “These two are done. I just watched him test them.”

Woman: “I don’t trust you.”

(She gets on one treadmill and declares that the belt is uneven. I just watched as the tech check the belt with a laser; the belt was straight. She gets on the other treadmill that was serviced. After thirty seconds of walking…)

Woman: “Ugh! This belt needs to be replaced!”

Technician: “Ma’am, the machine monitors the belt and tells us when it needs a replace—”

Woman: *cutting him off* “I don’t trust robots or Mexicans.”

(She then flounces off to the free weights. As the tech is packing up, his phone rings with a song by a semi-obscure metal band I’m a big fan of. We talk about the band for a few minutes before he finishes packing his gear and leaves. As I’m finishing up on the bike, the woman comes back, wags a finger in my face, and tells me I shouldn’t talk to Mexicans.)

Me: “But he wasn’t Mexican; he’s Honduran.” *pause* “And so am I.”

(To preclude any questions, I have a Honduran mother and a Swedish-American father, so I’m light-skinned.)

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(The gym where I’m employed has a monthly fee and a smaller fee that’s automatically charged on the same day once a year. This fee is to help cover maintenance, new equipment, paint/tile upgrades, parking lot resurfacing, etc. I work at the front desk, and as this is my first year, this is my first time fielding questions regarding this charge. I have been dealing with dozens of phone calls and walk-ins from angry members for the past week when a regular member comes in carrying a box of donuts.)

Member: “I saw you all charged me a fee on top of my regular monthly fee last week.”

Me: *preparing for the worst* “Yes, ma’am, if you still have a copy of your contract you’ll see—“

Member: “Oh, I know, I read my contract after seeing the charge and found where it says you all need a yearly enhancement fee. I bet you’ve had to explain it to many angry people.”

Me: “You have no idea!”

Member: “Well, I was almost one of them until I read my contract again. I can only imagine what you all up front have had to go through with this. I thought these donuts might brighten your day, as well as the rest of the front desk crew.”

Me: “Wow! Thank you so much!”

Member: “No worries. Don’t let the bad ones get you down!”

(My faith in humanity and my club’s members was pretty much restored after that!)

A friend of mine is in a long-distance relationship. They are both extremely athletic and competitive. A local gym holds a 1-2-3-4 challenge each year. You swim one mile, run two miles, bike three miles, and then do a series of four exercises: 100 pushups, 100 situps, 100 pullups, and 100 squats. It’s a charity event, people can compete in teams or individually, and a lot of people dress up.

My friend and his girlfriend often exercise “together” by video chatting from their home gyms while working out, using Bluetooth headsets to call while running, and sharing their Fitbit data, etc. She says she’ll do the challenge “with him.”

Come the day of the challenge, my friend is frustrated when he can’t get hold of her, but he decides to still go as hard as he can, hoping to be the first to finish/win the challenge.

He ends up coming second to someone dressed as a chicken.

It’s the end of the challenge, and most people are lying around exhausted, my friend included. He’s also super frustrated that he still can’t get a hold of his girlfriend and that not only did he lose, but he lost to a chicken.

He tries calling his girlfriend again, and when he can’t get hold of her, he turns to me and loudly asks, “Why isn’t she answering?!”

At this point, the chicken pulls her head off and answers, “Because I was busy kicking your a**!”

I’ve never seen someone go from exhausted and frustrated to elated so quickly. He jumps up and hugs her, spinning her round.

He then grabs her hand and pulls her out of the gym, and I hear her giggle and say, “Told you I would do the work out with you!”

(I am a general manager at a gym that bills members through credit card only — no debit card; it would have to be billed to the checking account number. I get a phone call about a member needing to update their billing and I explain to them our billing policy, including that all billing updates must be done in person and cannot under any circumstances be done over the phone. This is also stated in our membership agreements that the members sign upon beginning a membership and again when any changes are made to the agreement. About an hour after I receive this phone call, a woman enters with her boyfriend.)

Woman: “I need to update my billing.”

(She hands me a card that very clearly states, “DEBIT.”)

Me: “Do you have a non-debit credit card, or your routing and account number associated with your bank? We can’t bill it to debit cards.”

(There is literally zero hesitation before a deafening tantrum ensues.)

Woman: “What the f***?! I just called and was told to bring this in, you b****-a** motherf*****! And now you’re telling me I can’t?! F*** you!”

(The woman continues rambling incoherently, and I immediately disregard her tantrum.)

Me: “Okay, you’re cancelled.”

(By this point, there are probably fifty members all staring in our direction wondering what set her off so quickly. It is a somewhat sizable gym, and the front desk is closer to the entrance, and members all the way in the back are staring. My staff and I disregard her tantrum and she leaves, but not without screaming while her boyfriend leaves with her. Of course, she protests, but we do not have to continue engaging with customers once they throw out profane insults and psychotically scream at us. Furthermore, my staff and other respectable members do not feel safe around this unpredictable woman. Later, her boyfriend calls us.)

Boyfriend: “I’m sorry; it was my fault for not relaying the billing information. I was the one who called. Can she have her membership back? She’s been struggling with her mental health for a while and the gym has really been helping her, and I’d like to keep going with her.”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but my staff and other members don’t feel safe around her after witnessing what happened. You’re more than welcome to sign up for your own membership since I know you enjoy coming as her guest, but she isn’t allowed back here.”

(Neither of them ever came back.)

(Our college has a small gym and locker room with three shower stalls with curtains for privacy. In fact, the locker room has a lot of little options and ways to change privately so you don’t have to walk around naked if you don’t want to. I’m more introverted and modest, and I greatly appreciate the privacy while my friend who, although she doesn’t walk around in her birthday suit every day, is much more comfortable with her body and is very extroverted and talkative. She’s in the middle stall with me humming quietly to myself to the right of her, and a frustrated sounding woman to the left of her, indicated with some grunts and sighs. Suddenly, the woman to the left of her stops her shower, wraps herself in a towel, and marches over to my friend’s stall, yanking the curtain.)

Friend: “Hey!”

Woman: “Would you stop the—” *pause* “Whoops, sorry. Wrong one.”

(I freeze and realize that the woman was probably upset with my humming and had thought my friend was doing it. I already stopped when I heard the commotion, but she apparently still wants to give me a piece of my mind because I hear her squeaking footsteps coming towards me! The woman is just about to reach my stall before my friend manages to slide out of her shower and stop her, blocking the woman’s way by spreading her arms and legs out like a barrier.)

Friend: “NO!”

Woman: *recoiling and almost shrieking* “Gaaah! Put on a towel!”

Friend: “Well, hey! You were the one who wanted to see ’em without permission! I’m not letting you see my friend without theirs!”

Woman: “Ew, ew, EW! EwewewewEWWWW!!”

(I hear the woman squeak away and chuckles from other women who are standing in line for the shower. I poke my head out, seeing my friend still standing in the way of my stall, dripping wet and completely nude.)

Me: “I, um… thank you. I didn’t know how fast I could’ve grabbed my towel without slipping.”

Friend: *still standing there* “No problem.”

Me: “She freaked out more than I thought, though. Why was she so grossed out?”

Friend: “That… was an accident. When I slid in front of her, she had been reaching out to grab your curtain away, and well… she kiiiind of grabbed my boob, instead.”

Me: “…”

Friend: “Just a light slap, on the left one. A gentle cup. Definitely wasn’t intentional on my end and completely doubt it was intentional on hers, but it happened. She kind of scratched it when she pulled away, but it doesn’t hurt—“

Me: “[Friend]?”

Friend: “Yeah?”

Me: “Your shower’s still on.”

Friend: “OH, CRAP!”

(We finished up quickly and laughed about the experience afterward. Thankfully, there weren’t that many other people in the line that we took shower time away from, and they all forgave us anyway. We occasionally see that one woman, but she never makes eye contact with us now. I don’t hum to myself anymore, though, just to prevent the situation from ever happening again!)