The Firness Center
There's too much ice and not enough snow, so I decided to join the gym at Micaela's employer. Curiously, it overlooks our house. I can lean forward right now and make out the vague shape of a treadmiller in the topmost window in the distance. Someday this might come in handy, somehow.The guy in charge of issuing ID cards and parking passes is a bit of a legendary character: good-natured but befuddled, difficult to locate and unable to type. I can vouch for all of these traits. He was excited that my name was "easy to spell". Alas, it was downhill from there. I especially like the comma, which transcends the ordinary typographical error. I just hope it lets me in.
Labels: forms of identification, health, post-poop
posted by frank b. at
4:48 PM
3 Comments:
my parking space for my first sitcom writing job said, "levenskin." this was back when they put names on parking spaces.
Just as Micaela predicted, the card didn't work. I went to the security desk, figuring they could let me in just this one time. The security guard looked at my card and said, "Firness center? What the hell is that?" (eventually he let me in)
Update: Micaela took my ID into work this morning to get it activated. In front of her in line was the newest employee in her unit, whose ID also didn't work.
"Firness? what the?" said the ID guy "What bozo typed that?"
Micaela hesitated.
"Just kidding, it was me, I'm the only one who does these".
So Firness has been dispatched to the furnace. Good thing I wasted 15 minutes yesterday trying to photograph it with indoor lighting.
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