Yesterday marked some sort of milestone with my gym membership. You see, when you join this particular gym, they take a digital photo of you and give you a number. This way, one can show up wearing nothing more than a smile, and perhaps some shorts, and get in for a workout. Presumably, when I walk up to the counter and say “Six double five three two one”, they key it in and see my image on their screen.
Yesterday, something different happened. The fellow behind the counter looked up and said “It’s Ok. I got you.”
I was pleased that I was recognized as I walked towards the exercise equipment. Then it hit me: This fellow, and probably more, knows me as a number and nothing else.
If I were to drop dead on the elliptical trainer, someone would shout “Call 911 Quick! 655321 has dropped”
If I bumped into one of these guys at the mall, he might say “Hi, 655321. Remember me? I’m from the gym.”
Still, there’s a slight satisfaction in this: it shows that I have been attending the gym regularly enough to have my number memorized. It’s a cool milestone after all.
I know exactly what you’re talking about. When I was in retail, people would rent movies with a card that contained an alphanumeric ID (first three letters of their last name plus a three-digit serial number). If a person became a sufficiently frequent customer, we’d know him or her by their number. Okay, and their name.
Well, I hate to be a party pooper, but have you considered the idea that he didn’t actually memorize your number? Maybe he just recognized your face, given how often you seem to be popping in? (You athletic hotbod, you!)
I love being a number. It makes me feel very dystopian, which I think is cool.
I only wish I could have the same number for everything. So, everywhere I went, I could be, say 239351 (my former college ID number). Numbers are cooler than names, and they’re way easier to spell.
I’ll have to observe next time to see if they key my number in. I still don’t know if the number is used for authentication only, or if they are logging arrival times. If it’s the latter, then he must have keyed in the number.
I suppose I should be concerned about some diabolical government plot that will employ the fact that minor7flat5 showed up at the gym at 1:35 on a Sunday afternoon against me.
Perhaps these types of logs would be good alibi material: “Where were you on Sunday afternoon on May 11th???” “Looking at girls at the gym, sir. I can prove it!”
