Mr. Scowl & Mr. Asshole

More about my gym (see Dec. 1, 2014 posting)....

Mr. Scowl has that look on his face every minute he's at the gym. He works out relentlessly, and he's a old guy like me. A couple of times, I have said hi to him in passing - I thought maybe we have a lot in common and maybe we could be friends. He has ignored these greetings. Always a scowl.

I have wondered what he is going through in his life that makes him (a) seemingly so driven in his workouts, and (b) so sad/angry/hostile. Maybe it's a health crisis. I know he's slowing down; it is now pretty easy for me to pass him when we are walking on the track, but a year ago it was almost impossible.

Anyway, I named him Mr. Scowl and wrote him off. But then, on a visit to the Apple store, I saw him in actual street clothes. He was with a pretty young woman. Maybe his daughter. Maybe his granddaughter. It appeared to me that he was buying her a laptop computer. He was smiling. Shit! I may have to change his name.

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Mr. Asshole is a personal trainer at the gym. Everything about him -- the way he looks (hair style, piercings, tattoos), the way he moves (struts), the way he yells at the women in his group sessions -- everything about the guy screams "Look at me, I'm Mr. Hotshit." But he's not hotshit at all. He isn't good-looking, he isn't particularly buff, and he yells much louder than it takes to be heard. 

I always see him at the gym wearing the purple shirt that all trainers wear. Yesterday, I saw him at the supermarket, and Mr. Asshole was wearing a Superman shirt. No shit. 

I have a Superman shirt. I'm going to burn it.

Insecurity. That's my diagnosis. He's not really an asshole, but his insecurity makes him act like an asshole. Shit! I may have to change his name.