Ben
I glanced up at the clock, hanging on the wall on the opposite side of the room, and turned my attention back to the door. A few more minutes.
There was something so utterly awful about my job, and that was the fact that I had to talk to people. I was the kind of person you would never find at a gym, I had a whole self-conscious thing going on, and besides, why work out when you could be spending your time rewatching a series for the fiftieth time? Or baking. Or sleeping.
In the strange way my life had turned out, though, I actually spent more time at the gym than most people on the planet. Not that I used the gym, I spent my time twiddling my thumbs behind the counter, watching people walk in, watching people walk out looking much more tired and sweaty, and trying to hide. Occasionally someone would come in needing to renew a membership, or a family would arrive, kids screaming and running around while a parent paid for them all to go into the swimming pool, and I would have to pretend to care, but that was my job, I suppose.
There was one part of my day I particularly enjoyed, though. And it would happen in approximately twenty-seven seconds…
“Morning, Ben,” she greeted me as she walked through the door, pulling a hairband off her wrist as she approached the counter.
“Good morning,” I smiled awkwardly, as was our Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday morning routine. She raked her fingers through her hair and tied it up, a practiced movement that took mere seconds.
“My least favourite day,” she looked towards the door that led to the gym. “There is nothing fun about leg day.”
“So I hear.” I followed her gaze towards the door as someone walked out, looking decidedly fed up. “In my opinion, there’s nothing fun about any of it.”
“Aren’t employees supposed to make people want to keep coming back to the establishment, not try and drive them away?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
“Not me. If people don’t come here, it’ll go out of business, and then I won’t have to come here.” I shrugged, leaning back in my chair and fiddling with a pencil. She let her gym bag slide from her shoulder and it landed with a thud on the floor by her feet as she leant against the counter.
“You could just get a different job?” She suggested, and I screwed up my face at the thought.
“What other job would let me sit around all day, not really doing anything, and talking to a minimal amount of people?” I asked. There was a little voice in the back of my head that was asking why she was still here. Usually our morning conversations consisted of us both saying good morning and then her walking away to go and exercise.
She pursed her lips, her gaze drifting across the room as she thought.
“You could test armchairs.”
I couldn’t help laughing, and she started trying to defend her idea.
“Just hear me out! The company puts an armchair in a room that’s set up to look like a living room. You go in, sit down, and watch something on the tv for an hour or so, then go away and write a report to send them. You would literally be paid to sit around, and you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.”
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. Where do I sign up?” I grinned, and she shrugged.
“I think you might have to come up with the armchair company first, so you can create the job I just invented.” She dropped her gaze to the bag at her feet, and glanced towards the door again. “So how come I never see you when I come out on Fridays?”
“I only work part time on Fridays. Six ‘till nine.” Subconsciously, I cringed at the very thought of waking up early enough to get to work, even though I had already carried out the task for today. I looked across the room at the clock. “Twelve more minutes.”
“Okay, I’ve made a decision.” She slammed both hands down on the counter, the noise echoing around the empty room. She winced, and looked around, making sure no one was looking in her direction, but there was no one around to look.
“You seem to be very passionate about this decision.” I observed.
“You get off in twelve minutes.” She stated, and I glanced at the clock.
“Eleven, actually.”
“Okay, whatever. You get off in a few minutes, and I’ve stalled going to that door for long enough that I’ve lost all motivation to actually do so. I want a coffee, and I’m fed up of just seeing you for thirty seconds three days a week.”
“What are you even saying?” I asked, having lost the train of thought I think she was trying to follow. That train had left the station, gone off the rails, and was plummeting down a hill very quickly.
“I’m saying,” she bent over, picked up her gym bag, and promptly walked behind the counter to join me. “I’m going to sit here for the next eleven–”
“Ten.”
“–ten minutes, and then we’re going to go and get some coffee together.”
Okay, back it up. She wants to go and get coffee with me? No. I’m hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or hallucinating in a dream. Whatever it is, my brain has it round the wrong way. I’ve been wanting to go out with her for months. Not her with me. Right?
“Ben?”
I closed my mouth, wondering how long I’ve been gaping at her. She was fiddling with the strap of her bag, and I realised how it must look to her. She just asked me out (like seriously!) and in response I stared at her for however long without saying anything at all.
“Okay.” My mouth spoke before I could come up with something better than ‘okay’ to say. “I mean, I would love to. I mean, not love, but like. I barely know you, it’s weird to say love. I mean…” I drew my lips into my mouth and bit them, stopping myself from saying anything else to further redden my neck and cheeks.
“Good. I thought you were thinking I was weird.”
“You thought I thought you were weird? I’ve been nothing but weird in this entire interaction.”
Her reply was cut off when we both realised there was someone standing on the other side of the counter.
“I lost my membership card, is there any chance I can get another one?” The lady said.
“What’s your name?” I asked, wiggling the mouse to wake the computer up, and pretending I wasn’t insanely uncomfortable and embarrassed about everything. Susan Thorne, when I put her name into the computer, was not registered at this gym, and I had to explain to her I wasn’t going to let her through just for today and keep it ‘our little secret’, because I could get fired over it. It was quickly becoming a very heating conversation.
“But, it’s just a gym. It’s not like I’m going to be costing you guys anything!”
“Except for my job?” I said, dumbfounded that she still didn’t seem to get it. I glanced at the clock. Four more minutes, and I could leave.
“Who would know? It’s not like–”
“We have cameras here, lady.” I turned to look at the woman standing next to me. “If you don’t leave in the next thirty seconds, I’m going to call the police.” I suppose, with her standing behind the counter, it did look like she worked here too. I silently thanked her for stepping in to help.
“You can’t! I’m not doing anything illegal!”
“Except trying to scam people. You’ve never had a membership here, our computers say so. If you want to pay to enter, we can set that up for you. If not, please leave the building.”
“I’d like to speak to your manager.” Susan jabbed a finger in her direction.
“Susan, you’re speaking to the owner. I don’t have a manger, because this is my business. And you’re trespassing on private property.”
She didn’t own the gym. I knew because when she scanned her card to unlock the door to the gym, my computer flashed up with the name ‘Charlotte Peters’ and the owner of this place was a guy in his fifties called Hank, or something. As soon as she said that, though, Susan blanched, huffed, and stormed out without saying anything else.
“That was amazing.” I said, astounded, although my dislike for people had been maxed out for the month by that single encounter.
“I know.” Charlotte pretended to flick her hair over her shoulder and grinned. I looked to the clock, feeling an immense about of relief.
“It’s nine. For saving me from that horrible encounter, I’m buying the coffee.”
“Did you study chivalry or something?” She asked when I held the door open for her as we walked out.
“Nope, sports science.” She looked at me in disbelief and I shrugged. “I never finished the course. I dropped out when I realised I actually hated sports.”
“Fair enough. I dropped out of hairdressing when I realised I was terrible at it and that I hated every second of it.”
“Fair enough. Now, where do you want to go?”
And done!
I was too tired to actually come up with a character myself, so I used a character personality generator thing... in case you're curious, Ben apparently likes extreme ironing and is gluten intolerant. I know, what a wacky guy.
That's all for now...
Bye!
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