Many of you are familiar with cell phone guy, a douchebag (and I do not use that term lightly) at my gym who is constantly calling his guy friends and having inane conversations with them about a narrow spectrum of topics that range from the digital quality of the most recent celebrity sex tapes to whether or not cell phone guy could do a better job on the field than one Yankee player or another.
He seems to have a bad case of the short guy complex, an even worse case of facial hair, and an overall obnoxious demeanor. He’s got that thing going where he is constantly trying to convince everyone around him that he’s cool, and I hate that thing.
When I had a real job with real hours, cell phone guy and I used to go to the gym at the exact same time every day and, without fail, I would end up having to hear him talk to some buddy about riveting subjects such as how he was totally at the gym working out. It drove me mad - to the point at which I one day walked up to him and yelled, simply, “Cell phone!” He did not take it well, but he also did not stop his chatty behavior. In fact, I’m pretty sure that after the shouting incident, he started picking elliptical machines close to me and began calling more and more people.
Thankfully, at about this time, I quit my job - a move that not only improved my sanity career-wise but that also allowed me to go to the gym earlier in the day. Cell phone guy seemed to be in my past. However, as the weeks go by, I find myself missing our contentious relationship, to the point where I enjoy showing up at the gym so that our workouts overlap by only five minutes or so - long enough for me to get a good long glare in and long enough for me to have that mini day dream where I get to refer to him as “Chatty Cathy” (Ben’s name for him) to his face.
In fact, I have a few mini hateful daydreams about him. I picture him living his lame life, perhaps spending too much time each morning sculpting his utterly disgusting goatee-stache, perhaps lying about his height on an online dating site, perhaps wondering what it would be like to actually have sex with a girl. I revel in the fact that talking on the cell phone prevents him from going fast enough on his elliptical for him to see any results. I love assuming that the people he is calling are either all in prison or all in his role-playing club.
Here’s the point: I think I have an unhealthy, hate-filled relationship with this guy. And, more than that, he might not even give me a passing thought - an idea that makes me even angrier. Cell phone guy is a recurring character in my life and in my imagination, and he might not even be taking the time to hate me back.
Is this normal? Do you see people in your everyday lives that you have constructed entire lives and personalities for? More than that, do you ever hate these people? Or is it always the cute girl at the coffee shop who hands you your cinnamon bagel every morning, and are you just imagining how wistful and quirky and lonely she is all day?
I think I have a problem. I’m just not sure what that problem is. For the time being, I’m going to assume my problem is, plainly and simply, cell phone guy.
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April 16, 2008 at 7:17 pm
Beth from Avenue Z
You just cracked me up with this one. I do the same thing, only with skinny female joggers on my favorite running tracks. Yeah, I look at their six-pack abs between their tight shorts and running tops. And I race them. And I glare. And we round corners at the same time, and I speed up.
Ah ha, skinny witch! You will not win against the pudgy marathoner!
I know for a fact that no only do they not consider me a threat, they probably don’t even see me. But that doesn’t stop me from considering us locked into a fierce race to the finish. To the finish of what, I haven’t decided. But I sure as hell don’t come to a stop while they’re still in sight, even if I’m about to pass out.
Of course, I, too, am a freelance writer who works at home. And I spend way, way too much time by myself. Perhaps my anger and competitiveness is why I spend way, way too much time by myself. Hmmmm. At least I make sure none of my girlfriends has a six-pack.
April 16, 2008 at 7:30 pm
rebecca
So there’s this girl in my acting class. I don’t know her name, but all I do know is that I hate her with the fire of a thousand suns.
April 16, 2008 at 7:37 pm
Beuks
No, he’s the problem. I’m mostly lucky to have run into very few such people in my life, but I know many people who have big problems with like one or two people, and construct just such narratives around them. I actually assume I’m weird for not having drawn such character studies.
But seriously, at my gym (Uptown Minneapolis YWCA), being on your cell phone in the fucking gym is not fucking ok. I’m fairly certain if you were talking on your phone for any length other than “oh, crap, you need me to leave immediately and meet you at a hospital,” you’d get asked to take your conversation elsewhere. The locker rooms have signs up explicitly prohibiting cell phone use. I don’t know that I’ve seen such notices in the workout rooms, but I can’t imagine his behavior being let go.
What a douchebag that douchebag is.
April 16, 2008 at 7:37 pm
Beuks
Wow. I overused the word “such” a lot in that last comment.
April 17, 2008 at 7:38 am
April
Cell phone guy should meet my Bluetooth lady!
She’s constantly mumbling through the office hallways with that android ear piece on her person all day and even in the ladies restroom.
I’ll bet she even has a Barbie sized plastic cap over it in the shower every morning.
April 17, 2008 at 12:10 pm
Natalia
You don’t have a problem. I do the same thing! So maybe you do have a problem and I’m reassuring you that you don’t to make myself feel better. Regardless, there are a few people at the office that I interact with who I absolutely can not stand and spend a lot of time making up sad life stories for them and fantasizing about the things I would say to them if it wouldn’t interfere with my job. I think it’s healthy, actually, because it’s what grants me the ability to smile and say “Good morning” every day without throwing a searing cup of coffee in their faces.
April 17, 2008 at 12:58 pm
HiAmanda
Nah, you’re not weird.
When I was making a long commute every day to an industrial park outside of the Chicago city limits, I had my own nemesis who I called Smelly Puffycoat Guy. I already can’t stand people who wear really puffy coats while riding on public transit because they and their coats take up so much space, but this guy had a coat that must have gotten the wet on the inside, because it reeked. And he sat next to me EVERY DAY on the bus going back to the city. It drove me crazy.
Oh, in response to Beuks above, there are signs explicitly prohibiting cell phone use in many locker rooms because apparently when camera phones first came out, there were some problems with people descreetly taking naked pictures of people and sending them or posting them. I wouldn’t guarantee that they’d be so rigid in prohibiting cell phone use in the workout rooms, unfortunately.
April 17, 2008 at 1:39 pm
emily
I think this is a sign that you’re ready to start writing more fiction.
I have a whole book full of short stories in my head about the sad lives of office drones and trophy wives and art teachers thanks to my close proximity to them over the years.
Cell phone guy definitely makes a good character story!
April 17, 2008 at 3:35 pm
Anonymous
Ooh, I have a Smelly Coat/Cell Phone Guy corollary-combo - mine is Abe Lincoln. He’s a possibly homeless man who always wears dirty pants that are too short on my bus. I think, therefore, he must live in Belmont someplace. He usually smells in that several-days-old body odor kind of way, but also has money for various current tech goods - lap top, iPod, cell phone. Slightly creepy in that unsmiling, long horsey-face way, but also slightly intriguing and possibly honest. I guess it’s a love/hate thing.
April 17, 2008 at 3:36 pm
Stacey
Oh crap. Anonymous is me.
April 22, 2008 at 9:26 pm
Anonymous
I have a problem with an old man moaner in the locker room showers. He loves to moan under the warm water. Long moans, grunts. OOOOOhhhhh. AAAHH. He is old but fairly fit- he has a six pack (he is also from Africa, so maybe its cultural? But I doubt it). I feel bad for hating BUT I DO. He also wears parachute material pants in the gym that soak up his sweat in a very characteristic pattern…
April 29, 2008 at 3:53 pm
Amanda
I once had an issue with “Crocs girl.” She showed up after the new year (typical) in my gym and after that, there was NEVER a time when I was there and she wasn’t. She’d go for hours on various cardio equipment, and always in her crocs. I desperately wanted to point out to her that those are not appropriate workout footwear. I came to loathe her for no other reason than that she could do cardio longer than I could. And the crocs.