The Man. The Myth. The Membership.

I had been married for two years at this point. I also had a gym membership for a very fancy gym that my company paid for. It had a sauna, heated pool, all kinds of snazzy things (for ten times the cost of a Planet Fitness membership). Work paid for a huge chunk of it, and I loved it. Let’s say my name is Ryan Stevenson.

One day, I’m at a location I had never been to, near my wife’s work. She was my guest and had also never been to that location. 

They had Starbucks and water and protein bars for sale. My wife grabbed a coffee and pulled out her credit card.

Cashier: “Oh no, we don’t take money; we just bill your account.”

Wife: “Oh well, don’t you need our name or our card number?”

Cashier: “Of course not! EVERYONE recognizes RYAN STEVENSON. How could I not?! It’s wonderful to have you with us again, Mr Stevenson.”

My wife was quite impressed and amused.

Our assumption after the fact was the cashier/worker thought I was bringing a date by the gym, or some such, and was trying to be my wingman or help me out.

She likely got my name from when I swiped my badge to open the gate, as it flashes our photos to the staff. 

Still, a funny moment of, “Why on earth would I need to card your date? He’s a LEGEND!”