Here’s the deal: I’m not a confrontational person. I’m also not someone who likes to narcissistically flaunt their undertakings and/or tribulations on social media. I understand that people often have their own problems so I do my best to keep things pretty close to the vest. THAT SAID, I’m also a minister of conflict who feels obligated to voice his frustrations through the vehicle of WordPress rather than keeping things bottled up.
As some of you may know, I’ve had my skirmishes with the likes of Comcast, the Foley Food Service vending machine company, and even a Canadian flock of turkeys back in college. In fact, I’m still amid battle with most of these douchebags except for the turkeys because they’re probably dead by now (I’m not sure what turkeys do outside Autumn and you can laugh if you want but I’m pretty sure I’m not alone here. Do they hibernate? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
Anyway, the most recent war I’ve waged is with Planet Fitness, otherwise known as “The Purple Gym,” otherwise known as “The Bernie Sanders Rally with Treadmills.” It’s the same place that serves pizza once a month, which is essentially like a rehabilitation clinic giving out shards of crystal meth in similar fashion.
All of that said, I don’t mind it. I’ve discussed this before, but even though I’m a world class athlete who does nothing but move plates, I don’t need to drop $60/month on some glorified roid house to get a pump. People act like you need to train at a facility like the one Drago did in Rocky IV to see results and it’s downright preposterous. All my friends call me a pussy for it because, evidently, they’re all training for the olympics or something even though half of them couldn’t run a 9-minute mile without gagging like some cheap, first-year prostitute with bird flu… but I digress.
For the last two months, I’ve had to jog outside in the frigid New England weather because I can no longer access for gym for some reason or another. Keep in mind, this is an actual series of events that have occurred. People often ask if I make this stuff up but I can’t. It’s impossible to manufacture such ludicrosity (I made that word up. Hey Merriam-Webster, I’m the captain now).
Here’s what has transpired in the last month, with Gym A, Gym B, and Gym C, and Gym D replacing the actual town names to preserve anonymity:
I used to belong to Gym A because it was near my work. This, on Planet Fitness, means that Gym A is my “home gym.” Anyway, shortly after I left that job, I visited Gym B (the one in my hometown) but was informed my account had “insufficient funds” and I could not work out there until this problem was resolved. Once I relayed that information is not correct, the desk guy told me it’s possible they have the wrong card on file and that I should update it on their online portal.
I head to the online portal and incorrectly type in my password roughly 5 times. I resolve to reset my password but failed to receive an email offer. After attempting this several times, I was eventually shown an error screen informing me that there was no account registered to the email I was punching in (which is quite puzzling, considering that I receive roughly 40 newsletter/promotional emails from Planet Fitness at that account a month).
I then decided to call customer support and was informed that representatives cannot access account information by phone; only an actual gym can access that information.
I then head back to Gym B, only to be informed that, since my account has “insufficient funds,” only my home gym (Gym A) can access my information.
Considering Gym A is roughly 1.5 hours from my house, I call to see if there is another gym in their franchise—a series of Planet Fitnesses owned by the same person or something—closer to my house that I could resolve this issue at. Luckily, they say there is. Insert Gym C.
I head down to Gym C to resolve the issue and—would you look at that—it turns out they have the wrong card on file. Shortly after, they update my card information but inform me I cannot change my home gym at Gym C from Gym A to Gym B until the payment clears.
A day goes by and I notice the two monthly fees (as well as overdue fees) are withdrawn from my account. I then call back Gym C to change home gyms, only to hear that there are still insufficient funds relating to Gym A, in particular, that can only be resolved by them. Until this is resolved, I cannot change home gyms; consequently, I cannot work out near my house either.
I call up Gym A and ask for some clarification regarding why I still have insufficient funds when Planet Fitness withdrew two months worth of fees (along with overdue charges). They inform me the computers are down but I could try and call another Gym within their franchise. Insert Gym D.
Gym D tells me to try customer phone support…
So yeah, this is where we’re at. When I say I don’t make this stuff up, I don’t. People ask me why I’m so angry all the time and now, hopefully, you have a sense of why.
Side Note: I’ve decided to rewatch and review every Harry Potter movie. Not sure why I’m throwing this in the tail end of the blog but whatever, stay posted…
Joey Boats (@joey_boats)
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Here’s the deal: I’m not a confrontational person. I’m also not someone who likes to narcissistically flaunt their undertakings and/or tribulations on social media. I understand that people often have their own problems so I do my best to keep things pretty close to the vest. THAT SAID, I’m also a minister of conflict who feels obligated to voice his frustrations through the vehicle of WordPress rather than keeping things bottled up.
As some of you may know, I’ve had my skirmishes with the likes of Comcast, the Foley Food Service vending machine company, and even a Canadian flock of turkeys back in college. In fact, I’m still amid battle with most of these douchebags except for the turkeys because they’re probably dead by now (I’m not sure what turkeys do outside Autumn and you can laugh if you want but I’m pretty sure I’m not alone here. Do they hibernate? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)
Anyway, the most recent war I’ve waged is with Planet Fitness, otherwise known as “The Purple Gym,” otherwise known as “The Bernie Sanders Rally with Treadmills.” It’s the same place that serves pizza once a month, which is essentially like a rehabilitation clinic giving out shards of crystal meth in similar fashion.
All of that said, I don’t mind it. I’ve discussed this before, but even though I’m a world class athlete who does nothing but move plates, I don’t need to drop $60/month on some glorified roid house to get a pump. People act like you need to train at a facility like the one Drago did in Rocky IV to see results and it’s downright preposterous. All my friends call me a pussy for it because, evidently, they’re all training for the olympics or something even though half of them couldn’t run a 9-minute mile without gagging like some cheap, first-year prostitute with bird flu… but I digress.
For the last two months, I’ve had to jog outside in the frigid New England weather because I can no longer access for gym for some reason or another. Keep in mind, this is an actual series of events that have occurred. People often ask if I make this stuff up but I can’t. It’s impossible to manufacture such ludicrosity (I made that word up. Hey Merriam-Webster, I’m the captain now).
Here’s what has transpired in the last month, with Gym A, Gym B, and Gym C, and Gym D replacing the actual town names to preserve anonymity: