I swear I don’t actually do these things just to have something to blog about.
I use a padlock at the gym. I don’t like combination locks; in part because they always seem kinda flimsy in comparison, but really it stems from the old days, before laser surgery, when I couldn’t see the numbers to manage opening the blasted things. So I use a keyed lock; a good one too – as big a one as will fit through the hole of the standard Goodlife locker.
My lock lives in my gym bag, and the key lives in the hole of the lock. I don’t give it much thought. I get changed, pop the lock on the locker, and walk away placing the key in my pocket, ready for a workout. I’ve been doing it that way for as long as I’ve been going to the gym…13 years or more. I’ve never had a problem.
Today I had a problem.
It started out normal enough. I walked to the men’s room, got changed, threw my stuff in the locker and locked the door. Only, when I moved my hand down to pull out the key, my hand was met with… NOTHING. The key wasn’t in the keyhole!!
My mind raced and I desperately fumbled in my pockets in the vanishing hope that I had already absent-mindedly pocketed the key…but I knew before I felt the pocket lint where the key was. I knew it had somehow fallen out of the lock and was now safely stored inside my locker, completely out of reach.
And I knew that I was gonna have to get that lock broken before I left the gym.
So I sighed heavily and went to do my workout. Well, after all, I couldn’t let this be a COMPLETE loss, and I didn’t have a spare lock to use if I did find someone with a bolt-cutter before I was finished.
Plus, I didn’t want the embarrassment of accompanying the lock-breaker into the change-room when it was so full. Better to wait until after the lunch rush, after my workout. That’s when I calmly walked to the front desk and explained that I needed my lock busted.
I didn’t even try to defend the stupidity of it, but walked, red-faced, up the stairs leading the only on-duty male staff member to my locker. And as the few remaining men in the locker room looked on, I watched him slowly cut through my lock. So embarrassing. (Weird thing was they didn’t even require proof it was my locker. I thought they’d want to see my driver’s license or something.)
Anyway, since I was returning to the gym that evening, I knew I was gonna have to find another lock. Found a place on Sparks street on the way back to the office and bought myself another padlock. I’m such a creature of habit. A combo lock would have made my life easier, but I still decided against switching.
If it happens again, though, I’m gonna have to seriously consider a change!