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.

Fuck.

 pic found here

*on second thought…

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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…