I have been a member of LA fitness for years now. I actually
joined the first gym in the state. I was 18 or 19 years old and I had my first “big
girl” job. I figured joining a gym would be a good step towards adulthood.
After all, having your own gym membership seems like a very grown up thing. So,
I took my dad with me and I looked at the facility and talked to a sales
person. My dad agreed that it seemed like a good idea, although he was
skeptical on my reasons, and I joined the gym.
I lived just a few miles up from the gym and assuming there was no traffic, police activity, and before they changed the speed limit to 25 on the main road, I could make it to the gym in 10 minutes, easily. The gym was brand new and so was the equipment. It was usually empty so my gym phobia rarely ever kicked in, although I did go during a peak hour once and after walking past the reception desk walked back out. I could feel the blonde teenage receptionist staring at my back as I left. This was my first experience with gym shaming.
A few months after I signed up for the gym they noticed I didn’t have a picture attached to my file, so when I was scanning in that day the young girl behind the counter suggested we take a picture. At least she suggested the picture before my work out, although maybe a day when my eyes weren’t puffy from sleep and yesterday’s make-up would have been nicer. So, I took the picture and it wasn’t a big deal until I stopped going for a while. Like I said, I had a big girl job at the time, but I also worked odd hours and the gym closes at midnight (the biggest downfall to my fitness, in my opinion). So, it was difficult to get the gym after work when I was getting off work around 10-11pm and I am far too lazy to go to the gym regularly before work. But when my hours changed I started making an appearance again. I handed my gym card to the girl high school girl behind the counter who obediently swiped it in the scanner and looked at me quizzically “You changed your hair? You haven’t been here in a while.” Yes. My hair had changed. And No, I hadn’t been here in a while. Glad we could clear that up.
Basically my gym membership went on like this for years. I would be really good and diligent, going to the gym getting my fitness on, then I would get sick or my gym partner would change schedules, or my schedule would change and I would stop showing up. Then the last 3 years happened. In those 3 years I went to the gym exactly no times. Not once, not never. In that time I tried calling up to cancel and they insisted that I go online to print off a cancellation document. Apparently they don’t know the year and that no one owns a damn printer. Everything in my life is done via email. If I ever really need to print something off I have someone that works at Microsoft or the government do it for me. Occasionally I will go to school and use their paper and toner. But never do I print something at home or anyone else’s home because no one I know owns a printer. Seriously.
Not to mention, their website is like a damn labyrinth and swears I am not a member and that my gym doesn’t actually exist. And because I am not a member I cannot log in to the website to print off a cancellation page, so even if I did know someone with a printer, it would still do me no kind of good. So, I had no file filled out and therefore couldn’t send it in by the certified mail that they ask their cancellation forms are sent by.
By this time I had moved out of the area and didn’t want to make the 30 minute drive to the nearest LA Fitness to get the cancellation sheet to fill it out and send it by certified mail so that they would hopefully - assuming the planets were aligned and my fingers were crossed at the exact time the envelope reached the mail room - they would cancel my membership and stop taking money from my account.
But! I had a lucky day and they built a new LA fitness a few miles from my house. It is near where I bought my car and after taking it to the dealer to be serviced I decided I should go in to get the stupid form to cancel my stupid membership. So, I walked into the brand new and giant facility and was greeted by a friendly young girl who smiled and asked what she could do for me. I told her I needed a cancellation form. To my complete and utter surprise, she told me I could cancel in the gym that day! Victory! Then she yells out across the gym for her manager I don’t remember her managers name, so let’s call him Steve. She says “STEVE!!!! We have a cancellation!!!” Sigh. The treadmills full of bored housewives are facing the door, I imagine this is on purpose, so that they feel like they on escaping the gym with each step on the revolving belt. They all seem to stare at me as Steve takes his merry sweet time coming up to the desk to help me cancel. I see the middle aged women staring me up and down wondering what would possess me to hate my body so much that I am willing to cancel my gym membership. They seemed to envision my spinsterhood with each passing second.
As these Stepford’s judged, the perky girl behind the counter asked me why I was cancelling, her eyes bulged a little when she saw the low rate of my membership. I told her I haven’t been in 3 years - she knows - I know she knows. She asked how I got such a good deal. She knows she can see when I signed up. I told her I started my membership shortly after the first gym opened, memberships were cheaper then. She told me I should probably just hold my account and not quit all together. I reminded her that I haven’t been to the gym in 3 years, freezing my account for a few months is not going to somehow magically encourage me to start working out again. I am lazy! Awkward silence ensues.
Shortly before I became eligible for Social Security, Steve waltzed up the desk. He asked me a series of similar questions to Miss Sunshine and I gave him a similar list of responses. Then he cancelled my membership, but first he warned me that cancelling would be permanent and I would never get my super low rate back. I assured him I understand the consequences of my quitting.
Then, I got an email from LA Fitness. The computer generated stock letter told me they were sorry to have lost me. This was turning into a bad break-up with a stage-5 clinger. Then a few days later I got another email. It begged me to come back and asked me why I wouldn’t take my fitness seriously. “Please come back to us. We are so sorry to have lost you. If you change your mind and want to start taking your fitness seriously again, you can keep your old rate. It is still yours for a few more weeks; don’t miss this chance to stay healthy.” Apparently LA Fitness knows what a lazy bitch I am and feels the need to remind me that they know. LA Fitness is a real life Miss Cleo.
But I am American and I will not be intimidated and I will not negotiate with terrorists. In my eyes LA Fitness is a terrorist. So, I ignored the emails and kept going about my day. Then today happened. I got another email from the Fitness of LA. They told me I can’t get my old rate back, but I can get a similarly low new rate (plus tax of course) and I would still have to put down first and last month and I would have to pay an initiation fee, again, but it is really low also. So, if I will just come back I can get this low rate, but the rate isn’t guaranteed forever, they can change my rate whenever I want. But, then it is kind of like playing Russian Roulette with my bank account, so why wouldn’t I want to take advantage of this completely mediocre deal?!
Honestly, I don’t know how these people even got my email address. All I know is that they really, really want my ass back in their gym, shedding the pounds. At least when I get emails I can’t see the stares of cosmetically altered women pitying my lack of resolve to get to the gym. So, I suppose there is an upside to everything.
I lived just a few miles up from the gym and assuming there was no traffic, police activity, and before they changed the speed limit to 25 on the main road, I could make it to the gym in 10 minutes, easily. The gym was brand new and so was the equipment. It was usually empty so my gym phobia rarely ever kicked in, although I did go during a peak hour once and after walking past the reception desk walked back out. I could feel the blonde teenage receptionist staring at my back as I left. This was my first experience with gym shaming.
A few months after I signed up for the gym they noticed I didn’t have a picture attached to my file, so when I was scanning in that day the young girl behind the counter suggested we take a picture. At least she suggested the picture before my work out, although maybe a day when my eyes weren’t puffy from sleep and yesterday’s make-up would have been nicer. So, I took the picture and it wasn’t a big deal until I stopped going for a while. Like I said, I had a big girl job at the time, but I also worked odd hours and the gym closes at midnight (the biggest downfall to my fitness, in my opinion). So, it was difficult to get the gym after work when I was getting off work around 10-11pm and I am far too lazy to go to the gym regularly before work. But when my hours changed I started making an appearance again. I handed my gym card to the girl high school girl behind the counter who obediently swiped it in the scanner and looked at me quizzically “You changed your hair? You haven’t been here in a while.” Yes. My hair had changed. And No, I hadn’t been here in a while. Glad we could clear that up.
Basically my gym membership went on like this for years. I would be really good and diligent, going to the gym getting my fitness on, then I would get sick or my gym partner would change schedules, or my schedule would change and I would stop showing up. Then the last 3 years happened. In those 3 years I went to the gym exactly no times. Not once, not never. In that time I tried calling up to cancel and they insisted that I go online to print off a cancellation document. Apparently they don’t know the year and that no one owns a damn printer. Everything in my life is done via email. If I ever really need to print something off I have someone that works at Microsoft or the government do it for me. Occasionally I will go to school and use their paper and toner. But never do I print something at home or anyone else’s home because no one I know owns a printer. Seriously.
Not to mention, their website is like a damn labyrinth and swears I am not a member and that my gym doesn’t actually exist. And because I am not a member I cannot log in to the website to print off a cancellation page, so even if I did know someone with a printer, it would still do me no kind of good. So, I had no file filled out and therefore couldn’t send it in by the certified mail that they ask their cancellation forms are sent by.
By this time I had moved out of the area and didn’t want to make the 30 minute drive to the nearest LA Fitness to get the cancellation sheet to fill it out and send it by certified mail so that they would hopefully - assuming the planets were aligned and my fingers were crossed at the exact time the envelope reached the mail room - they would cancel my membership and stop taking money from my account.
But! I had a lucky day and they built a new LA fitness a few miles from my house. It is near where I bought my car and after taking it to the dealer to be serviced I decided I should go in to get the stupid form to cancel my stupid membership. So, I walked into the brand new and giant facility and was greeted by a friendly young girl who smiled and asked what she could do for me. I told her I needed a cancellation form. To my complete and utter surprise, she told me I could cancel in the gym that day! Victory! Then she yells out across the gym for her manager I don’t remember her managers name, so let’s call him Steve. She says “STEVE!!!! We have a cancellation!!!” Sigh. The treadmills full of bored housewives are facing the door, I imagine this is on purpose, so that they feel like they on escaping the gym with each step on the revolving belt. They all seem to stare at me as Steve takes his merry sweet time coming up to the desk to help me cancel. I see the middle aged women staring me up and down wondering what would possess me to hate my body so much that I am willing to cancel my gym membership. They seemed to envision my spinsterhood with each passing second.
As these Stepford’s judged, the perky girl behind the counter asked me why I was cancelling, her eyes bulged a little when she saw the low rate of my membership. I told her I haven’t been in 3 years - she knows - I know she knows. She asked how I got such a good deal. She knows she can see when I signed up. I told her I started my membership shortly after the first gym opened, memberships were cheaper then. She told me I should probably just hold my account and not quit all together. I reminded her that I haven’t been to the gym in 3 years, freezing my account for a few months is not going to somehow magically encourage me to start working out again. I am lazy! Awkward silence ensues.
Shortly before I became eligible for Social Security, Steve waltzed up the desk. He asked me a series of similar questions to Miss Sunshine and I gave him a similar list of responses. Then he cancelled my membership, but first he warned me that cancelling would be permanent and I would never get my super low rate back. I assured him I understand the consequences of my quitting.
Then, I got an email from LA Fitness. The computer generated stock letter told me they were sorry to have lost me. This was turning into a bad break-up with a stage-5 clinger. Then a few days later I got another email. It begged me to come back and asked me why I wouldn’t take my fitness seriously. “Please come back to us. We are so sorry to have lost you. If you change your mind and want to start taking your fitness seriously again, you can keep your old rate. It is still yours for a few more weeks; don’t miss this chance to stay healthy.” Apparently LA Fitness knows what a lazy bitch I am and feels the need to remind me that they know. LA Fitness is a real life Miss Cleo.
But I am American and I will not be intimidated and I will not negotiate with terrorists. In my eyes LA Fitness is a terrorist. So, I ignored the emails and kept going about my day. Then today happened. I got another email from the Fitness of LA. They told me I can’t get my old rate back, but I can get a similarly low new rate (plus tax of course) and I would still have to put down first and last month and I would have to pay an initiation fee, again, but it is really low also. So, if I will just come back I can get this low rate, but the rate isn’t guaranteed forever, they can change my rate whenever I want. But, then it is kind of like playing Russian Roulette with my bank account, so why wouldn’t I want to take advantage of this completely mediocre deal?!
Honestly, I don’t know how these people even got my email address. All I know is that they really, really want my ass back in their gym, shedding the pounds. At least when I get emails I can’t see the stares of cosmetically altered women pitying my lack of resolve to get to the gym. So, I suppose there is an upside to everything.
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