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December 05, 2004
Roll your own title for this one.
I just tuned away from The McLaughlin Group to a comedy with Dean and Jerry because I couldn't take the inanity.
Pardon me, but I'm in a bit of a mood.
I went to the gym to work out on the elliptical, but cut short my session because of the jackass a few machines away who was offering a friend detailed career advice -- a 20-minute pitch for why his buddy should quit his job and come work for him.
After all, it's a hot space, and he's this close to securing funding. He's having a meeting with the money people just this week. The guy on the other end of the phone would have to be a fool to pass up this oppo. Or so I heard.
In excruciating detail.
Sadly, my headphones only cancel out ambient noise, not loquacious assholes. I got a headache from turning them up loud enough to block him out, and then decided that, as a matter of fact, an extended conversation on your cell phone while you're sharing a public space is actually fucking inappropriate.
"Excuse me."
He turned with great effort after I repeated myself, never breaking stride.
"Yeah?"
"Is there any chance of you finishing that call out in the hallway?
"No. But I'll get off in a few minutes. Look, I've got to go, I'm at the gym. You need to remember that the window is closing on this soon ..."
And so on, for at least two and a half minutes more. He may have gone on longer, but I can't say, as I'd gathered my belongings and made a beeline for the front desk.
The guy who hands out towels is affable, but I don't know how much he has on the ball. He indicated that they don't have a cell phone policy, but did concede my point that the existing policy that requires patrons to dress appropriately and to refrain from wearing heavy perfumes validated my inquiry.
I filled out a comment card for the owner/manager:
I'd like to know if you have a policy regarding the use of cell phones in public areas. I've been distracted a number of times by members who make long calls while still on the machine. Please contact me at your convenience -- I'm considering looking for a new gym.
We'll see if that merits a timely response. Hmm. I just realized how terse and official-sounding I am right now. I sound ... clenched.
Luckily, the Bass is doing its thing, and The Woman is clickety-clacking with her feet up in her Ikea rocker. There's a cat asleep under a comforter next to me, and another on the ottoman. A pan full of noodles, sauce and cheese is baking quietly, and we'll finish the end of a bottle of fine wine her parents gave her, if it hasn't already turned. When will I remember to purchase a wine stopper?
When I came home and told Her all about it, she suggested something I'd thought of at the time:
"Sweetie? Yeah, I'm still at the gym. Listen, you wouldn't believe this asshole working out next to me. He's been on the phone for the last twenty minutes, half-berating/half-conning his pal to join him in some fekakte startup. No, I did ask him nicely if he'd take it outside, but he told me to go eff myself. Yeah, I can't remember the last time I saw someone be such a dick, either."
Posted by Your Protagonist at December 5, 2004 11:03 PM