It wasn’t me

At the gym’s website, I booked a place on a bike for the next Spinning class. This is in itself an exercise, needing quite a bit of time; time I can really ill-afford. I don’t mind where I “Spin” als long as it isn’t the very front. Where I hail from pre-determining your exact bike before the lesson begins is not required. The outcome of my ignorance, is that I am forever changing bikes because it is not long after I start that I am interrupted by a: “Sorry ma’am, I think I booked this bike?”

You mumble under your breath “Oh yes, of course, I should actually make a reservation next time.”

Thereafter you try to negotiate yourself through the narrow spaces, looking out for the next available bike, greeting your fellow sufferer and try and get going again.

What a hassle.

Never before I had logged on to the gym’s website and I notice a little thumbnail of a lady who, I presume, is the Manager in charge of spinning. More than likely employed to inform us that the gym is not responsible for any mishap and probably you may be at fault. There is a lot to say about South Africans but they are always blameless. If a problem arises it is never their fault, but someone else, something else or an unforeseen circumstance responsible for this misunderstanding.

It sometimes leads to a bizarre situation.

Me: Do you have tomato juice?

Waiter: Uhmmmm, we do have tomato cocktail?

Me: Is that the same as tomato juice?

Waiter: Well, I have seen them drinking it. They put Maggi in, and stir it. (He looks as if tomato juice is the stalest drink ever.)

Me: Who are 'they'?

Waiter: Customers.

Suppose the drink doesn’t meet my expectations, and I share my point of view with him: "Hey waiter, what kind of oddish tomato juice did you serve me?"

Then he most likely replies: "No no no no, not my fault. THEY liked it, you wanted it. "

In other words: ‘Yo bitch, YOU wanted tomato juice (stale) other people drink it, I have no clue why they drink it, but it is certainly not my fault that YOU don’t like it, because I did not say that it tastes good. Here's the bill!’

The Spinning manager would probably do the same. When I’d ask her why I failed to be allocated a bike, she would state that it’s caused by my computer / login code / password / the weather / this particular time. It certainly is not her or the Gym’s fault. I take a look at the picture of this lady who I just labeled as typically South African. My age, kind face, hair tied in a neat ponytail, not ugly, not pretty, somewhere in between.

And then I take a good look.

It’s me.

Oh no! In the few seconds that I looked at myself as if I was someone else, I described myself as a typically South African lady with an ordinary appearance. What a nonsense!

I should really ask the people at the Gym to take better pictures from now on.