Rank Privilege

One of the few benefits i get for being a fossil senior management-like-object is the opportunity to use the Executive Locker Room at the gym.  Located within the regular ladies locker room is a door with a cipher lock, to which i have been given the supersecret access code.

Even better – or worse, when you think about it – is the fact that my career in a male dominated field means that there are few ovaried-engineers.  As a result, the pool of estrogenated executives is a bit small in the Science City.

This means that for the past few years, i’ve essentially had a private locker room for my lunch hour workouts.

It doesn’t suck.

i appreciate the privacy, and the towel service, but mostly i have enjoyed the fact that i can get naked without standing next to a pod of hard-bodied youngsters*, flexing their ripped biceps and perk-tastic breastages as they bend over to step into their butt-hugging spandex workout shorts.

It’s quieter in my locker room, too.  Unless i fart.  Which i can do without fear of offending others.  A bonus.

There are 14 day-use lockers along the wall.  For the past several years, i have settled into a mindless routine.  Locker 14 is mine.  Furthest from the door, it’s housed my stinky gear for as long as i can remember.

Needless to say, the day i showed up and there was another woman violating my locker with her stuff, i about had a stroke.  Fourteen empty lockers and she had to use THAT ONE?  Didn’t she know it was my locker?  How dare she park her cotton bloomer-clad ass on my part of the dressing bench!  The nerve!

Rather than do the polite thing, and set up shop in Locker 1, i picked Locker 10.  Close enough to assuage my auto-pilot, but enough space that i wouldn’t have to touch her with my butt cheeks when bending over.

Territorial much?

It all just felt so wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong!  A violation of my gym “feng shui”!  i wanted to tell her to move her shit out of my locker… To explain that it was my locker, despite the sign that said “Day Use Only”.

Not gonna pass the ‘crazy test’, though.  Certainly when presented at the criminal trial after i get detained for wedging my cross-trainer in her ass crack.  How the hell could this poor woman know that she was in my space?  Violating my bubble?  TRESPASSING!

i relayed my outrage to Studley, as i joined him at the bank of elliptical machines.  He listened attentively, as a smirk started to creep across his face.  It occurred to me that this moment marked a milestone.

i realized:  i am officially old.


 pic found here

*on second thought…


BREAKING NEWS:  It is truly official.  i have received THE CERTIFICATE.

Thanks to this creative and adorable gent, i now have something far better to hang on the wall of my office than university diplomas…

56 thoughts on “Rank Privilege

  1. Sounds a wee bit lonely in there…I offer my service as “Towel boy” I am quiet and will avert my gaze when necessary…resume upon request….

  2. Oh man! Officially old? That is just wrong. At least you are not branded officially crazy…

    Once you get over the shock of having to share your “private” locker room, just think what it means that there is another ovaried person qualified for that rarified atmosphere. Actually sort of cool, you know?

    • yeah. she did. but i live in a bit of a glass… um… or cotton… house. i like my comfy cotton undercrackers. mine are black, or patterned with skeletons on them…. but they are cotton bloomers nonetheless…

      will consider bringing firearms in the future in case she fucks up again.

  3. Daisyfae, you are nothing if not sweet and kind and considerate. But I would have enjoyed seeing your crosstrainer in that tresspasser’s asscrack, punctuated by one of your momentous farts. Oh yeah.

    • she was a very nice lady. getting back to the workouts. on the surface? i was supportive and encouraging. “Yes, it IS a nice facility! Oh, and the price is right, eh?” But underneath my civilized veneer? i wanted to tie her up with my lycra shorts and slap her with my towel until she admitted that she had violated MY space…

  4. Oh how some of this post scared me, as I recognised parts of myself I do not want to admit exist. I swim. It is a public pool. Consequently I share the change rooms with far too many nubile young women who dress by flossing their butts and dropping (or not) their bouncy little breasts into lacy numbers. Don’t they know that if I am there it is officially old farts hour and they should absent themselves. I need no reminders. None I tell you.

    • not one of my finer moments, that’s for sure! i forgot the butt floss. late morning (pre-lunch time) is usually the best time for us geriatrics, though. evening gym is full of the youngsters who have no outside obligations. it would be far worse for me then…

  5. Um…small, possibly picky, point…did the woman *know* it was your locker?
    And old? Best way to get around that depressing thought is to take a peek in the man’s rooms. All those wrinkly bits…honey, you’ll bounce out of there like a spring lamb! 🙂

  6. My current one at the swimming pool is 45. Stupid isn’t it but habit is habit… Then you get a guy and he is using the bench near 45 so I grab another space and go get my stuff… then he walks over to 70something – WTF! Why is he there? So stupid – glad I’m not alone in my crankiness!

  7. Like Dinahmow said – perhaps you could personalise your locker a bit so that she’ll realise it’s taken. Although that might make you seem even more neurotically territorial.

    • that’s the problem. i can’t. because it isn’t mine. i did think of doing some minor damage to it to make it less attractive to others. but realized that even minor property damage would be crazy. crazier than thinking about choking someone for violating my imaginary turf…

  8. One of the joys of reading your writing is that deja vu feeling. I hear that same voice of indignation go off in my head when the world just doesn’t get that I am queen of all so leave me be. Here’s to the hope that all lockers return to their rightful owner (daisyfae) by the end of the week.

    • welcome to the park, ms. gingertea! maybe it was something about growing up in a redneck suburb, thinking we were SOOOO sophisticated, that has created our entrenched feelings of Queenliness. i have not encountered the violator again… and i find myself a litle sad that she hasn’t come back (and settled into Locker 1, of course). it might be nice to have a little royal company. how can i hold court in an empty locker room?

  9. I really love the fact that you admit that you fart.
    Guys are proud of it, Gals keep it a SBD secret.
    I’ve missed reading here and am trying to get back into making the rounds.
    Glad I stopped by.
    You made me smile.
    After being on a train for 2+ hours (should have been 1.5) I needed this.
    You rock, darlin’ . . . as always.

    • So very glad you stopped by!

      Fart? Oh, yeah! i’m masterful… give me a big bowl of broccoli, a wet bathing suit, and a folding metal chair and i am the John Williams of Gastric Emissions! A maestro! Working on a version of “Star Spangled Banner” for my “American Idol” audition…

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