In 2003, I headed to Andover, MA to become a professional wrestler. If you read my bio on the homepage, you know that didn't work. I bounced around in the restaurant industry for many years before finding nirvana: My neighborhood gym.
Since I thought I was hot shit rock 'n roll, I assumed I'd waltz in and just get a job as a membership consultant. You know, that annoying salesman who calls you at the end of every month begging you to join so he make his quota. I wanted to be that guy. I thought I'd be good at it. I knew what my gym offered. Weights. Cardio. Yoga classes. They even had toilets and stuff. I'd be an awesome salesman.
Unfortunately, there were no sales jobs available. But there was a meager, hourly gig sitting at the front desk. I took it, figuring it was my way in and pretty soon, I'd land a job in sales. Five years later, I was fired from my front desk post. But in all that time, I got paid a few bucks, made a ton of friends, and have a cache of stories so mind bogglingly crazy, you won't think they're real. But they are. They're 100% True Gym Stories.