(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!)

(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 and 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 that 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 that of 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!)

(It’s a Sunday afternoon, and there’s a ridiculously popular flea market close to my gym. It’s located in a small shopping area with a few other stores that are closed on Sunday and thus, nobody cares about the “customers only” parking. I broke my foot a while ago and this gym has therapists who help me get back in track. I’m not their only case, by no means the worst, and I know that a young mother, who got severely hurt during labor and is bound to a wheelchair, always has the appointment after me and needs one of the handicapped spaces. As I’m looking for a parking space, I see a car pull into the last free — of four — handicapped spaces. A young man with his family gets out.)

Me: “Sorry to bother, but do you have a licence? This is—“

Young Man: “It’s a cripple space. Yeah, if they’re going shopping, they can walk that extra few meters.”

Me: “Okay, even if that would change anything about this being illegal, the gym behind is you is open and some clients need this space. They come here for thera—“

Young Man: “Now you’re s***ting me. No gym rat needs a handicapped spot! Get lost.”

(The parking lot, as well as every other lot around, is crowded, and there’s no chance but luck to get a spot close to the gym. I’m already fed up and his attitude is the last drop. I get out of my car.)

Me: “Oh, okay, so would you like to explain to my ankle how I don’t need therapy, or would you like to explain it to the cops?”

(Getting out, my scar-covered leg becomes visible. I also wear a bright blue “stabilizer sock” underneath an aircast-like fixture wrapped around my ankle. It’s just for support during therapy, but looks pretty bad.)

Young Man: “S***, the h*** happened to you?!”

Me: “None of your business. Could you leave or would you like to see—“

(The guy got back in his car, pulled back, and drove off while yelling at his left-behind wife that they’d meet at the kebab truck. She looked frazzled, apologized, and left. I learned that my gym tried to get them all towed, but every contractor was busy keeping roads accessible. They started taking pictures of every car parking in one the spots and reporting them. The spots are still taken whenever there’s a flea market, but it feels good to know they’ll be fined.)

(I’m a bystander in this story. I am about to join a spin class which is scheduled to start at 1:00 pm. A triathlon group was in there prior, finishing a workout. It is 12:55 pm and the group is cleaning up their equipment when I hear this lady screaming.)

Lady: “YOU GUYS SHOULD BE OUT OF HERE ALREADY! I NEED MY WORKOUT! I NEED IT!”

(One of the guys from the group tells her to calm down, but she keeps on screaming. Eventually, she storms out of the room, completely in hysterics, vowing to complain to upper management. I enter, all confused.)

Me: “Uh… did that really just happen?”

Employee: “Yeah, she does that a lot. Don’t worry; the spin class will start soon.”

Me: *jokingly* “Okay, but I’m totally complaining about you guys starting right on time. How dare you?”

(I found out later that the woman in question really did have a history of emotional outbursts when it came to working out. She had been banned before and was on the cusp of being banned again. Girl, chill.)