A Little Privacy, Please!

Dad gummit, it’s just not right!

Recently, almost every day I go to the gym at lunch I end up complaining about a female attendant in the men’s locker room.

It’s frustrating! No. It’s way past that. It’s rocket blast to Mars more irritating!

There are other men who rush in, change like I do, exercise, change back, and hurry to get back to work during the lunch hour. It’s a cattle call time.

Yet that’s exactly when she puts out her little yellow sign saying a female attendant is cleaning the men’s locker room.

The first time I saw her in the locker room, I was already down to my red and green plaid boxers. Ain’t nobody but me needs to know I was in the Christmas spirit!

Even then, I only saw her because of her reflection in the mirrors. There’s more looking glasses in that locker room than a clown mirror fun house at the county fair!  

She came meandering right in like a grazing cow, not in a hurry at all! She was filling up a mop bucket in the utility room on the wall behind me.

Now granted, sometimes strange guys come into the locker room. Call me paranoid, but that’s why I always face away from the lockers. I want to see if a weirdo is coming my way!

She’s a big tomboy type who resembles a female Russian shot putter.  But you could still tell she’s a woman, and there she was in the men’s dressing room. 

I peeked around the corner and asked, “Why are you in here when men are in here?!” 

I figured she didn’t understand English because she gave no reaction. I asked again, and she left the dressing room, meandering, at grazing speed.

Thirty minutes later, right on schedule to make it back to work on time, I went back into the MEN’S locker room. 

It clearly says, MEN.  It has the international male symbol and then a Men’s Locker Room sign at the first turn in the entrance, yet there she was back in the middle of the restroom with her hair up in a bun of glory and flexing her female shot putter arms. 

We live in the south, a country town.  It’s down home living, not at all like big cities. We only have two bathrooms, two dressing rooms, Men’s Locker Room, and Women’s Locker Room.   It’s an easy system. You either is, or you ain’t.

I held my palms up and out with a what in the world are thinking expression. Didn’t she know she was in the bull pen, not the heifer corral? It was the man cave, not the she shed!

She looked at me blankly and began to leave, meandering, grazing speed.

I changed and covered my Christmas boxers with work clothes, but stopped by the front desk to complain. 

I explained that not only was it uncomfortable, but it was potentially dangerous.  Hey, we live in a country town, but there’s still folks around here with Mad Cow Disease! 

The female manager was very kind and understanding. She said it was the “cleaning lady”. 

She said the “cleaning lady” has a schedule all her own, one only in her head.

Hmm, but the “cleaning lady” picks the busiest time of the day to go into the men’s locker room.  Well that made me feel a little violated!

She said she’d tell her to adjust her schedule and clean the men’s locker room at a slower time.

I had to work through lunch for several days, but Monday of the next week I rushed into the gym.  Another regular lunch time guy was standing outside the men’s locker room in his gym clothes. 

He stutters when he talks and told me, “Der, der, dere’s a woman in, inside der! I, I, gotta get, get back to work!”          

I peeked inside. It was the same tomboy cleaning lady!

I went straight back to the manager on duty, a guy this time.

I dropped into a human resources role and explained gender occupational hazards, potential harassment issues, negligent employee claims for the fitness center, much less potential liability for the gym from both employees and patrons. 

He was unimpressed with my vast knowledge and said, “Well, she’s the ‘cleaning lady'”.

I pointed at two guy staff sitting behind the counter visiting.  “Why don’t you get one of them to do it? They’re not doing anything.”  

They turned and gave me a that’s not how to win friends and influence people look. 

Instead, he went and told the Peeping Tom, no wait … Tom’s a girl … he went and told the Peeping Tomboy to clean somewhere else.

I wanted to shout over his shoulder, “Yeah, Peeping Tomboy! Go clean somewhere else!”

My stuttering friend said, “Tha, tha, tha, thank you!”   

I thought that was it. Problem solved. No more voyeurism in the locker room.

Nope!

Yesterday, Peeping Tomboy was in the men’s locker room, again! And guess what she was doing?!

I’ll tell you what she was doing! She was training another woman who had Tami on her name tag!

Good grief Charlie Brown!

I spotted them right before stripping down to my Scooby Do boxers!  (By the way, Scooby Do boxers is a sure fire way to keep guys from talking to you in a locker room, but I’m not sure if works on a Peeping Tomboy and Tami.)

When I practiced years ago as a professional counselor, there was something called aversion therapy. It exposes you to bad, even horrible consequences in response to unwanted behavior. 

Aversion therapy crossed my mind. I thought about walking around the corner in nothing but my Scooby Doos. That’d make ’em sick!

At this weight, I have more shakes, bounces and jiggles than a bucket of jello in a paint shaker!       

They’d be horrified!

It would be aversion therapy on both of them without a word! Pure terror, like lifting a toilet lid and seeing a live snake in the bowl.

I’m telling ya, they wouldn’t get over something like that without professional help! 

They’d never want to come back in the men’s locker room! They’d be afraid of seeing a living horror movie that haunts their dreams!

Instead, Tomboy saw me looking around the corner, turned, and meandered off, grazing speed. 

Not Tami.  She didn’t see me, so I used a gentle, tactful approach.

“Hey, Tami! This is weird to even have to say, but you’re in a men’s locker room during the busiest time of day. It’s probably NOT the best place to be.”

It worked.

Her eyes got as big as hubcaps, as if the thought had never crossed her mind.  She bolted from the locker room like she’d just lifted the toilet lid with a snake coiled up inside!

That was yesterday.

Today is today.

Guess where Peeping Tomboy and Tami were again at lunch time today?! 

4 thoughts on “A Little Privacy, Please!”

  1. Oh, I can feel my blood pressure rising on your behalf. That’s crazy! Our gym has a female cleaner in the girls locker room, but if it was a guy, I’d work out somewhere else for sure! I never thought to wonder who cleans the guys locker room, now I’m curious!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I know, right!! As a society we are getting crazy, turned on our heels, backwards in our priorities, twisted in our thought, ridiculous! On the other hand, it would be funny ….. if it was someone else but me! 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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