Today I was at Wilson gym using the free weights, listening to my iPod, when I was rudely interrupted by a jab to my side. I didn’t think anything of it at first, thinking it was someone that I knew who was trying to get my attention. I spun around, only to be confronted by a middle-aged black man.
Puzzled, I took out my earbuds and he grumbled, “Those yerr weights?” as he pointed to two 2.5 pound weights 15 feet away from me.
I responded, “Uh, no. I’m using these weights,” as my eyes motioned towards the dumbbells in my hands.
“Clean ‘em up anyways.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me— pick up those weights and put ‘em back.”
Then he stared me in the eyes, like I was the one who was unreasonable.
I was dumbfounded— the guy who works at the gym can’t bend over and pick up two and a half pounds. Clearly, I wasn’t using the weights, but I didn’t feel like arguing, so I acquiesced. I thought— whatever makes him happy, I just want to get back to my workout.
Still a little confused, I looked around the gym, and there were at least six professionally made cardboard signs with a giant 1984-esque finger and block letters that said something along the lines of, “YOU are responsible for re-racking weights and returning equipment to where it belongs. NO EXCEPTIONS (oh, that was in bold print as well).” I looked up and sure enough, there was a 10x3 banner that screamed, “RE-RACK YOUR WEIGHTS.”
In the middle of the gym, there were three workers. The man who yelled at me retreated back to his nest, sat himself in a comfortable rolly-chair, put his headphones in, and un-paused a copy of “Barbershop” on his portable DVD player— not a laptop, but an actual portable DVD player. (Aside: the other day, he was playing Farmville on his Dell laptop. His logic escapes me.) His eyes were glued to the screen as he mechanically shoveled a whole chicken into his mouth.
He sat there with a self-satisfied smile and when I left the gym 30 minutes later, he was sleeping with his arms tightly crossed, snoring slightly.
What’s going on Wilson gym? What’s this newfound obsession with racking weights? I mean— I understand the need for an organized gym, but in my experience, the gym governs itself. We’re all college kids and although we leave the occasional weight out of place—even if this happens, someone who wants it (or doesn’t want it) will take it or move it. And the world moves on.
For some reason, after winter break, we have staff members jabbing us to re-rack our weights while we’re in between sets, particularly when I leave my workout area (and my weights) for 15 seconds to get a quick drink of water. For example— aware of this fact, I rushed back to my workout area, but to no avail. A different man was already cleaning up my weights. I explained to him the situation, and all I got was a judgmental stare so severe that made me want to beat animals and spit on babies.
It’s like they’re hounding us at times, but at other times, they’re useless slugs. Wilson gym, step it up. If our school’s deficit is really at $50 million, we seem to be spending a lot of unnecessary funds paying three salaries for people that contribute nothing to the gym. If they’re there to monitor towel checkouts, surprise, Wilson gym no longer provides towels. The one time I did have a question about equipment, I approached the staff. They were in mid-conversation, so I didn’t want to interrupt. They glanced at me, clearly aware of my presence, and then turned back to each other and continued gossiping in their Southern accents, pausing to whoop with gaudy laughter. I waited for two minutes. Then I left. If anything, they hamper our experience at Wilson.
It’s not the first time I’ve been ignored by staff at Duke— at Alpine Bagels, a woman actually took my order, got flustered by the sheer amount of customers she had to serve, and then claimed, “Fuck it, I’m taking my break. See you guys later.” Seriously? Because of you, three people had to re-order their sandwiches— taking up time that none of us had.
Oh, and another thing— because my DukeCard was worn out, they wouldn’t let me into the gym. I had to go to the DukeCard office and pay $5 for a new one. Oh, some background information: I am (was) still on my first DukeCard because I always keep it in my wallet and my wallet hasn’t ever been stolen. My DukeCard has three and a half years of wear and tear (from swiping), but it’s in the best possible condition that it could be. Anyone can see that three years definitely takes a toll on a card, but to make us pay for normal wear and tear (as opposed to wear and tear caused by idiocy— my old roommate used his DukeCard to remove hot coals from his hookah.)? That’s ridiculous.
After the gym, I went to the Lobby Shop to buy some cereal. Honeybunches of Oats? $5.39, a 250% markup from any normally-priced store. Duke, sometimes I wonder about you.
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