Caught between Hans and Franz

I joined two gyms today.

If that doesn’t get me farther on my LGN (Look Good Nekkid) plan, I don’t know what will.

Oh wait.

Actually going to the gym would be the first step.

I’ve been a regular gymrat since my college days in Boston. I’m surprised I don’t look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. I remember shelling out big bucks as a junior to join the brand spanking new Boston Sports Club that opened across from my residence hall (it was a big deal, since I was earning only work-study money then). Since then, next to setting up cable and internet, the first thing I usually do when I move to a new place is join the local gym. What can I say? I like to look good. Shirtless.

I’ve been a member at Bally’s for almost two years, primarily because it’s literally across the street from my apartment building. Of late, though, because of my almost nightly improv commitments, I’ve not been able to work out at all during the week. I get home late, and after hours of making stuff up, I’m in no shape to lift or run or do anything useful with myself. So, much of my $55/month has been pretty much just going to Saturday morning workouts. Not a wise investment by any means.

And so I decided today to cancel my membership there and instead join the Washington Sports Club (WSC) that’s near my office. I thought, well, at least if it’s close to work, there might be more of an incentive for me to work out during the day. Thankfully, we have a corporate relationship with WSC, and so I only pay $29/month. Even if I ended up slacking and only going to the gym once a week, at least I wouldn’t feel as bad about wasting my monthly investment. So I joined.

Of course, wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I walked into Bally’s this evening to cancel my membership, they would hear nothing of my plans to break up with them. They sat me down with the manager and asked why I wanted to leave. For a second, I felt like Ross and Chandler from that Friends episode where they try to cancel Ross’ gym membership. I explained my situation. Without even batting an eye, the manager asked me how much WSC was charging me. As soon as I blurted out $29, she offered to match it. Then she offered to add to that access to the other Bally’s that’s a block and a half away from my office.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked out of there not with a canceled account, but with an expanded annual membership at a cheaper rate.

Huh.

So tonight, I’m going to bed with two active gym memberships. I’ll cancel the WSC membership tomorrow, even though technically, it’s the fancier gym. But it’s amazing to me nonetheless: I was being fought over by two gyms. Of course, something like this could only happen to me.

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