Hi. I'm Sam. Well, Ok. You can call me Sam. I've always wanted to change my name, and, well, Sam has always been on the top of the list. (Yes, there is a list)
Anyway, you know in poker you can raise or call it. I've never met anyone that can beat my dating Top Ten. Whenever the "Who-has-the-worst-dating-story" game gets played.... I can raise the stakes by, any of my Top Ten. I usually start out with say, either The Extremist, or under the right circumstances, The Fatty. But, if I'm bored of the game, or really want to impress people, I pull out The Heroine Addict, or the newly acquired, Homeless Dude.
When people hear one or two of my stories they inevitably tell me I need to, "Write a book!" or "Write the next Friends!" To which I reply, "Who is going to read it??? Married people don't care about dating, and single people are in the trenches... They get to live it. No one wants to read about it."
But, after going out with a married guy today, I've decided for my own therapy I'm writing this. And hopefully someone will wander here and be highly entertained. If not, hopefully I can cure myself of the winning hand!
Who to start with? That is the question..... In no particular order...
# 10 The Heroine Addict
Oh. My. Delicious. Lest you get the wrong idea, I don't sleep around, I'm fairly religious, and I've never done drugs or even had a smoke. And yes, I'm in my 30s.
So, I was working as a manager at a fitness club. The deal was I had to work for them, for peanuts mind you, while I tried to start up my own company. I was "partnering" with them. The clientele was extremely affluent and I thought it would be a good fit. (It turns out it was a horrible fit, but that's a different story.)
One night, my cute little front desk girl alerted me that one of the patron's membership had expired. I told her, "Great. When he comes back out, stop him and let him know he needs to re-up his membership. You can do it." She was this 5 foot nothing, cute little high school front desk girl. However, being the responsible manager I stayed just around the corner in case she needed back-up. I'm not so petite at almost 6 feet tall.
I heard her say, "Sir! Your membership is expired. You need to pay your dues, before you can leave."
Good Job! I did Not know you had attitude!
This man, laughs in her face, practically. But, just in time realizes she's got attitude and is going to stand her ground... In a flash, he is Prince Charming. I can HEAR the smile oozing in his voice as he compliments her. Her hair. Her shoes. Now, she's in high school... And she is still telling him, "Thanks. You just need to pay your dues."
He's persistent, and as I slowly come into his line of sight.... He is a hulking mass of a 6'4" man. Very confident. Very good looking. And very cocky. He thinks he can intimidate/charm her into letting him get away with coming and going without paying for a membership. In his tight muscle revealing wife beater shirt. (I know. I hate that term too! But, you know exactly what shirt I'm talking about!... The V-neck one. The one that kinda makes him look like Uncle Vinny... If I were Italian, and was part of the mafia. Minus the gold chain. And not balding. Completely bald, with really blue eyes. I would say piercing, but that seems a bit cliche.)
He can see me, but she can't. I'm just lending silent muscle to what she is saying. As he gets a little more persistent, he finally notices me. Standing there, just observing, letting the front desk do her job. But, alas, now he's got an audience. So, he tries to draw me in. He smiles right at me. I don't move, nor engage... I'm just the silent muscle for my front desk. Front desk finally starts looking around to see if she can see me on any of the levels, surreptitiously, of course, as he gets more and more persistent.
I step around so I am finally in her line of site when she turns to the left. I can see the relief on her face, which makes me fairly annoyed that anyone would pick on my staff. He is around the desk and at my side in seconds, realizing, finally, that I'm the one in charge.
"I've been TRYING to tell him, he needs to pay his dues. But, he keeps saying there must be a mistake. But, I've checked the computer, and his records. His membership is expired." She's trying to explain to me in a rush, like she's going to get in trouble or something. Or maybe its so she can pass him off as quickly as possible.
I smile at her, still ignoring him. "Great! We'll just get him signed up for a new membership then," I say finally turning toward him. Giving him that resigned smile with raised eye brows... You know the one your mom gives you, that I'm still in a good humor... Don't even try it.
He tried for almost 5 minutes to get me to let him in, or out. Or give him free passes so he could come, in and out as he pleased. The thing is, I don't remember what he said. I just remember being annoyed and at some point thinking to myself, "Stand your ground! Yes. He is in your personal space. He's doing that on purpose. And Leaning. Do not do a backbend!"
There's a trick I learned in the Czech. When the babicka's would want to pet, yes, pet your face, I was tall enough, they they were small and stooped enough I could stand up really straight. And they couldn't reach. Or you take a wide stance and step back with one foot. But, don't shift your weight yet. Let the person be up in your personal space... And SLOWLY shift backward. Or nonchalantly, you know when you shift around when you are standing for long periods. Your front foot acts as a buffer. They can't actually take a step forward or they will straddle your leg. Awkward. No one has ever tried that on me, they have tried to shift around my leg. Amateurs.
Only the most awkward/forward men ever try to lean OVER my leg. This dude totally started to lean over my leg. The thing is, she had kept his membership card when he came in the club. Now I was holding it. I wasn't going to give it back, if he didn't pay. And it finally dawned on him, I wasn't going to give it back. I hate arrogant men who think they can throw you a compliment and you are just going to fall over them. Insincere compliments are not my thing. Never have been.
Finally, he agrees to sign up for a new membership. We head over to the marketing office, since its 8 or 9 pm and they've all gone home. I'm going through Vickey's desk to find pens and the correct paperwork.
"Have a seat, while I try to find the correct form. Do you want a family, couple, or single membership?"
"Sam," He read my name tag.... You know, Leaning in my personal space and all. "I don't feel like you are treating me like a unique individual."
"Well, individual, I don't know what form to pull, if you don't tell me what kind of membership you'd like."
"Just me. I just need an in-divid-ual membership," he stated, leveling his gaze on me.
"Great," I reply, pulling out the right form and grabbing a pen before I plop them on the table. I'm still standing. "If you'll just fill out this form and bring it out to me-"
"Sam," He says again, with a little exasperation, while starting to stand. "I don't think, you are treating me like someone you care about."
This is the point where I notice how small the office is. How there is only one door. And I have effectively been sealed inside... With this lunatic. During the day, sure... There are a LOT of people walking by. The big bubble window looking into the lobby, usually is fully of people walking by, in and out of the locker rooms, the wallyball courts or out to the pool. But, on this particular night, the one person is my cute front desk girl... And she has run away. Not that I would call her or anything. I'm tough. And I will Not be intimidated by this jerk. On the other hand, I feel like I am starting to suffocate a little bit. This office with its big window, is REALLY making me claustrophobic.
He has stood-up effectively blocking the door. My exit. And my escape. I've heard of people stabbing other people with pens, I've even seen it on movies. Supposedly it works. I've also heard you can stab someone with a straw. I've actually seen it done to a potato if you cap the back end with your thumb. The air pressure inside makes it an effective potato stabbing tool... I'm not sure about skin though, it seems like I'd impale my thumb as well. It's only taken about 3 seconds for this unease to settle in my bones, but, being the stoic person that I am... I'm pretty sure he has no clue.
"Yes, of course I care. I care that you fill out that form and pay the sign-up fee and first month's membership." I smile sweetly, resting my hands on my hips.
"No. You aren't just going to leave me in here all by myself. You're a horrible salesman-"
"I know. That's why I'm a manager, not a salesperson."
"You need to make the person your selling to feel special."
Oh you're special all right... I still stood with my hands on my hips.
"Here. Sit down," he says while pulling out the chair... Not by the door. Backing me effectively into a literal corner. "You can fill in the form, while you work on your salesmanship."
"No. YOU can fill out the form. Are you illiterate?" I know. It sounds really harsh. And really mean. But, I truly felt threatened. And I'm not used to feeling threatened. I'm almost 6 feet tall. Most thugs go for easy targets... You know, like the cute little petite front desk girl. And I feel a duty to protect them. I'm not usually the one being picked on.
He laughs putting his hand on mine, and I want to grab the pen and stab it in his hand. What's with this guy??? Fine. Two can play this game.
"Name?"
"You already know my name, remember?" He indicates the front desk incident with his head.
"No actually. I don't. Could you spell it?" Resigned to fill out his stupid form as quickly as possible and escape this minuscule box lacking oxygen, they call an office.
"E R I C"
"Last Name?"
"Sam, I feel like I'm a number."
"Not yet, we haven't gotten to your membership number. Last Name?"
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