The Confessions of a Towel Folder

Cmdr I. M. Pompous (Ret): "Is your steam room working yet?"
Me: "No sir, we are still waiting for the part."
Cmdr I. M. Pompous (Ret): Big sigh. "It's been down 6 months! When will it get fixed?"
I think to myself, "The answer hasn't changed from the last 6 times this week you've asked, you wanker!" I answer: "As soon as the part comes in, sir."
Cmdr I. M. Pompous (Ret): "This is unacceptable. I will contact my Congressman about this!"
In my mind: State or Federal, Fucktard?? Like Congresspeople have nothing better to worry about than the boiler of a FREE military gym in Naval Station Bumfuck Nowhere! But I answer while looking suitably demure: "Yes sir, a very good idea."

People. In that neat little box marked "Interests", Google wanted me to put down what interested me. I said "People. People fascinate me." and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. And where better to witness the social experiment called life than working the front desk of a family oriented gym on a military base. You get them all; from the normal and mundane to the wonderful and warm, to the arrogant, vain, downright unpleasant and everything in between. It's been a dream come true for me! Throughout my day to day interaction, I would observe people and file snippets away. All the while, at the back of my mind, that little devil in my head dances away with impish glee at the material I am gathering for my bestselling expose. Oh, if they only knew!!

But more on Cmdr I.M. Pompous (Ret). Here is a thoroughly unpleasant and self important sod, bitter at never making Captain but unable to retire his uniform. His other issue is the locker. He is beside himself with indignation that staff, YES! Quelle horreur, STAFF PUKES (his words, not mine!) can have full length lockers but he can't!! Whatever next?? This is the epitome of his distress. GOOD! I hope his distress earns him a painful caustic ulcer to match his painfully caustic personality!

Then there is Chief Hill, the self proclaimed Lothario.
"Hey how you doing this morning?"
Me: "Fine thanks."
Chief Hill: "I know you're fine! Mmm mmm!" he says while eyeing me from head to toe and licking his ample lips to drive the point home!
I'm thinking, "Yes, MF, I KNOW I'm fine. An no MF in your dreams!" However I say "Chief Hill! We are in a jovial mood today aren't we?" and keep moving on.

It went from that to sneaking up behind me one morning and saying "God, you're so delicious today I could just take a bite out of you!" Do that perv and I will "accidentally" drop this 45 pound weight I'm carrying onto your toes. However I say "Chief Hill! We are in an extra jovial mood today, aren't we?" and keep moving on.

They aren't all like that though. There's Mr Turner. A nicer, kinder and more generous soul you will never meet. He's there every morning with a smile and a joke, just happy that it's another day. He brings the gym crew fruits and vegetables from his ample garden and honey from his bees. He asks after each of us and our families, offers help when it's needed and treats us like human beings. It's people like him that make going to work at 0430 (yes, military time since I work on a military base) bearable. We look forward to the Mr Turner's of this world.

Now a true confession. I have been asked to leave the front desk and move into a managerial position. It isn't something I can turn down at this point. But this is bittersweet. I have regrets. All the people that passed through the 2 1/2 years I was there, the nameless folk that come through the door day after day. Each of them has a name, a story and a personality and I wish I could have got to know them all. Whether they are the Mr. Turners or the Commander Pompouses of the world, it doesn't matter. I have always said to myself that I had time, plenty of time to get to know everyone, and I wish that it would've been so. During the job transition period I couldn't bring myself to tell the patrons who knew me personally that I wouldn't be on the front line for much longer.

I didn't need to. This is a military base and therefore Gossip Central USA. Within days, the news had spread like wildfire. The base CO himself came and sort me out, asking if I was accepting the promotion. I asked him how he knew. "Kiddo, everyone's talking about it." Everyone? Don't you and your peers have more important things to worry about than speculating on my possible promotion? My regular patrons hugged me and were thrilled for me (why? I wasn't particularly thrilled myself, but that itself is another story altogether). They each gave me a little pep talk and made me promise to visit often. I assured them I was still in the building, just buried under schedules and files. Cmdr I.M. Pompous (Ret) came up to me and thanked me for being patient with him and hoped that the rest of the front desk would be the same. Mr. Turner and I had a heart to heart. His words were encouraging and his advice sensible. And Chief Hill? He came up gave me a bear hug and said he'd miss my gorgeous self and proceeded to cop a quick feel on my derriere. When I looked him square in the eye, he finally cracked a genuine smile and told me I was a good sport.

Yes, Chief Hill, I am.

So, What Else Can Go Wrong?

So, it's 5.39 pm the day before the race. I have just lost my battle with microscopic monsters and have succumbed to the "common" cold (I can't even get a posh cold. No, just a common one). The sniffles, the cough, the congestion, the runnies, yep, I have it all. I've tried so hard to fight it, really I have! I have chugged copious amounts of vitamin C, D3, zinc, echinaecia, goldenseal, more zinc, elderberry and blackcurrant extracts, to the point where I was certain I would die from supplement overdose before catching this frightful "common" cold. And yet, here I am, with a trail of wadded up, germ infested tissues in my wake, feeling like the miserable sod that I am and feeling very sorry for myself. But that's not all. Not by a long shot!

Jamie, my dear friend, neighbour and colleague, and I decided to do our bit for the environment and cut our greenhouse gas emissions by carpooling whenever possible. We were very proud of ourselves for taking this step towards reducing our carbon footprints. Little did we know that I would pay dearly for this. That nasty, ungrateful bitch called Mother Nature (yes, the same evil cow that gave me these "perfect" child bearing hips that will never fit into anything smaller that a size 6, but not an ounce of desire to bear children!!! Really, can anyone else see the irony?) decided to send a major artic blast down all the way to Florida (FLORIDA!!!), with the coldest day being RACE DAY! Yep, because of me (and Jamie), global warming has been reversed, and we are now in the middle of the coldest winter in 30 years. Oh whoppee! Don't get me wrong, I love the cold weather, I really do, but on RACE DAY?? With the "common" (not posh) cold??!! This joke is getting cruel!

Guess, what? I'm not done yet. Nope. I have one more! My icing on this Cake of Crap: my "woman's pride and joy" decided today was a perfect day to start. Yes. That's right. Today, just in time for the most uncomfortable "period" to be on RACE DAY!!!!

So let's recap: I catch the "common" (because I'm not worthy of a posh one) cold and now sound and look like a patient from a TB Sanatorium; my run starts at 0730 on what will probably be the coldest morning of the year; and the most delightful part of this whole fiasco, my "woman's best friend" shows up! To cheer me on, no doubt, in all her scarlet glory!

And tomorrow, with all of my baggage, I shall be there at the starting line and I will run that race and finish my part. And, if history is to repeat itself, it will end up being one of the more exhilarating runs I would have done to date! Life is quirky that way.