mantilo: a miscellany

I miss swimming. If it were easier I would sneak into the university’s pools. Instead of scheming, I drove over to the closest fitness center with a pool. It was rather dark and visibly old; dingy wouldn’t be the right word but quaint wouldn’t work either. No one was at the reception desk when I walked in so I waited patiently and read today’s newspaper, which had a special section about trout. Footsteps pattered up behind me.

“How can I help you, sir?” an older man asked, as he came around the desk. There was a visible pause, a moment of oh crap that flashed through his eyes. “I mean, miss?”

I told him I wanted to take a look around the facilities. He replied that H, the owner, would be available in a little while but he personally could take me around.

It was small but relatively clean gym for its age. It had to at least been around since the early eighties. There were a few people in the weight room, whose windows let in a lot of light. The pool was only three lanes and located in the basement. One lone woman was swimming laps in the lane closest to us. It was a very modest, but honest-feeling place. The old man told me I could wander through the women’s locker rooms and come back upstairs when I was ready.

After a quick peek into locker rooms - once again, very tidy - I headed back up. A man in a red polo, H, I assume, was already talking with the old man. When he saw me, he came over and shook my hand.

“I see that M has taken you around already,” he said.

“Pretty much,” I replied and thought, The old man and my brother share the same name. It seems that only older people have that name.

As we walked to his office I remarked casually about the age of the gym.

“Oh, we’re one of the oldest health centers in the city,” he said. “Thirty years or so. Are you thinking about playing raquetball at all?”

We talked a little about rates and memberships. He gave me a free day pass and some papers to look at, and shook my hand when I got up to leave. The old man was at the reception desk as I passed.

“Thanks for taking me around,” I said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. “Also, I’d like to apologize for what happened earlier.”

“It’s not an issue,” I said, “It happens a lot.”

“Well, I made an assumption and it turned out to be false. I’m sorry about that.”

“That stuff doesn’t offend me, but thank you for saying that.”

A large part of it might have to do with customer service but I felt a little touched that he chose to apologize, instead of merely brushing the issue over. As for the gym, I’m not sure; I’m used to swimming in big pools with sunlight streaming through the windows.

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