I recently started going to the gym. I grew tired of the buttons on my jeans digging piercing my stomach and feared if I didn’t do something, there would be a permanent indentation reading “Levi’s” on my fat gut.
I didn’t want to be a walking advertisement for denim or Totino’s Party Pizzas, I knew I had to do something.
So, I joined a gym and started doing zumba classes, which is an experience all in itself. Today I did two hours of zumba in an attempt to work off the enormous amount of calories I ingested the night before at Hardee’s (and to drown my sorrows and shame in large amounts of sweat).
I finished the two-hour work out (I know, I know, I’m a machine….) and headed to my car so I could go home and pass out. Instead of walking onto a parking lot filled with cars, I found a parking lot filled with tables, chairs and a sound system that was booming. What was going on?
In an effort to investigate, I walked over to a friendly face I knew; Marbi. Okay, maybe it wasn’t super friendly, but it was familiar.
It was strange to see him out of his element. Usually when I see him, he’s forcing me to do squats and bench press large amounts of weight.
I wondered if he felt out of place being in a normal environment where a pull up bar wasn’t readily available.
I thought about asking him, but figured it might make him mad and I didn’t want him to take it out on me at our next session.
Marbi said the party was for “Customer Appreciation Day.” What? Wasn’t every day customer appreciation day?
With the $300 we spent each month for membership and personal training, the gym better appreciate me every day…or at least every month when that hefty chunk of money disappears from our account.
I decided if they wanted to appreciate me, I was going to let them. I waited for a masseuse, a personal shopper and a reggae band to arrive. Don’t judge. I like Jamaican music…it sounds like the ocean.
Okay, so maybe they knew me well enough to know the best way to “appreciate me” is to load me up with liquor. Well played gym, well played. The fact that it was 11:00 a.m. had no bearing on my excitement for the free drinks.
As I headed over to snag a beer (Lite, of course), I saw other tables setting up for food. WHAT?! At first I got excited until I realized I was at a party sponsored by a gym. I could only imagine what kind of “food” they would have.
I envisioned carrots, broccoli and quinoa served over a bed of lettuce with a side of vomit. Oh wait, vomit comes after eating that junk.
This was probably the first time in history I wasn’t happy about free food.
And then I saw it…pizza boxes. Were they fruit pizzas? Or maybe the boxes housed veggie trays? I tried not to get my hopes up, but as they came closer, I smelled pepperoni and my heart melted like the cheese on that pizza.
Pizza and BBQ restaurants were there with donated food, but the coup de gras was Mexican food!
A Mexican restaurant actually brought over free food for the fiesta! Ole! This was my kind of party.
I sucked in my gut and headed over to get a plate of food…or at least my first plate. I knew there would be more rounds.
I ate, trying not to molest the chips and salsa too much since others were watching.
Then I got to thinking; why would a gym have a customer appreciation day and serve only fatty foods and alcohol? Wasn’t that counter intuitive to their goals of healthy living?
And then I realized the genius of it all. They were trying to fatten us all up (some had a longer road to go than others), so we would feel bad about ourselves and sign up for another year at the gym. Brilliant!
The presence of alcohol was just another way to keep our inhibitions low so we could easily be persuaded to purchase more at the gym. It was like the gym was utilizing a skill high school boys used all over America; liquor a girl up and she will do whatever you want.
I was in awe of the gym’s ingenuity and I wanted to congratulate someone on the excellent marketing strategy but I was too busy grabbing another plate of delicious BBQ with a side of Mexican rice.
I also wanted to remind the gym that they didn’t have to give me fatty food to keep me coming back to the gym to work it off. As long as Chipotle was in business, that would never be necessary.