I knew there was a reason you bugged me. It was more than your face, perpetually smirking and looking smug, or the smarmy way you act like you’re doing me a favour by offering to waive the ‘sign-up fee’ when I’ve agreed to your several hundred dollar membership cost. It isn’t even the way you tighten the sides of your mouth, almost smiling, if you manage to make eye contact with someone when they enter the facility, or how you flip your hair while you check your phone. It might be the gossip I hear every time I pass the front desk, or how you seem ‘busy’ if someone wants to ask you a question. I almost feel like I’m interrupting you, when I ask to scan in. Then I remember, you work here.

My wife said I was being unfair when I crinkled my nose and said, ‘she just bugs me, I can’t put my finger on it.’

Because usually, almost always, I’m fair-minded and non-judgmental. It was a gut feeling, a certain distaste … somewhere on a deeper level.

My guts were right.

You think, gym lady, that even though you must know that your gym has windows and the machines face out, overlooking the parking lot, no one noticed how you parked your SUV across two spots. Clearly over the line. Innocent mistake.

You definitely knew, because I watched you get out of your vehicle, walk around the front to see how far over you were, then casually put your bag over your shoulder, deciding not to correct this, in spite of the fact that your gym has limited parking and many times the lot is full, and we have to use the overflow parking across the street, or two lots over. Even in the winter.

You sauntered off, fully aware that you were taking up a spot that could be used by paying members. You didn’t care. A ‘Eureka’ light bulb, illuminates in my gut; right again! And it’s even worse that you work here.

That’s why you rub me the wrong way. Gym lady.