The Gym

Hello internet,

If Kafka had been writing today he might have taken time to write about that oppressive institution known as the gym. It is one of the pillars of the modern insecurity industry. The people to be found there are easily caricatured: from the skinny, fast talking salesmen/staff to the often slightly overweight customers who could look quite beautiful if they weren't so stressed. The decor desperately strives towards an appearance of quality and class on a budget with a keen eye for the bottom line, leading to interior spaces that feel slightly disconcerting in a way difficult to isolate. The most Kafka-esque feature, though, has to be the stink of self-loathing that hangs in the air amid the sweat and deodorant.

My first impression of the building was that it was somewhat tasteless to call the sportswear shop, that stocked most of the usual brands, S W E A T S H O P (with a disgusting little "squared" symbol afterwards). It displayed a stunning disregard for the concern many of us share for workers' conditions, and gave the impression that the owners and stockers were openly laughing at their left-liberal-leaning critics. In other words it did not get off to a great start.

The moment that really made me feel uncomfortable, however, was when I heard someone giving people a tour to see if they wanted to pay for membership say "what are your main reasons for wanting to join?". That slimy, skinny salesman who undoubtedly gets paid a commission for each person he signed up (I heard on say on the phone in the reception: "come by tomorrow, ask for me and I will show you around") was making they confront a fact about themselves that they were uncomfortable with (such as feeling too skinny, or too fat) to a complete stranger in an environment they weren't comfortable with. It was an awful thing to do, and was purely the action of a man trying to push people into parting with their money with their own insecurities.

Now I am not a smug, completely happy in my own body sort of person. I'm sure it doesn't bother as often as it does some, but I have not been immune to the overwhelming importance that modern society, advertising and print opinion and so on have placed on body image. It is hard not to feel at least somewhat inadequate when one is bombarded with images of toned, well muscled men with impressive stubble falling in love with the kind of people who aren't interested in me. The truth is most people probably worry that they are too fat or too skinny. Hell, some poor folk probably worry about both! I certainly try to feel comfortable with myself though and I am certainly going to attempt to forestall and bastards using my self-consciousness to try and sell me crap.

The gym really did charge an awful lot of money. For the student rate, the cheapest there is, membership was at a minimum of £600 for a year. You have to pay for membership for at least a year. There is absolutely no reason why this should be the case. There is nothing about the equipment they use or the business structure they have adopted that means people should be forced to jion gyms in units of one year minimum. There was already a set up fee anyway so the administration costs could not be used as an excuse. The gym was deeply exploitative of people who are, in their own way, vulnerable.

There are two possible reasons I can see for this. The first is that perhaps most cities are, like York, not really big enough to have more than one gym as big as the one I am talking about. This leaves the gym with a lot of market power. I don't think this is a plausible explanation because I suspect that smaller, cheaper gyms in people's local areas which, unlike the one I went to, people wouldn't have to drive to (irony) could succeed. I think, rather, that the excessive price charged and the inflexible payment period was used as an attempt to transform the gym into some sort of middle-class salubrious utopia, full of beautiful, successful people. Like Hank Azaria's character in Run Fatboy Run. It seems however to have attracted instead a clientele who's main uniting feature is an air of unhapiness with themselves.

Caleb