JERK OF THE WEEK: Jerks of Election Day - Damsel in Distress
I've discussed my weight-loss attempts in this section ad nauseum. For those of you who have not heard about it, my plan is to lose a tenth of a pound each week. I had been making great progress, but that was halted recently because of two things:
1. The enormous amount of food I consumed in recent weekends, including the May 18 wedding, which you can read about by clicking the link.
2. Slacking off at the gym with my friend Body Burner.
When I go to the gym by myself, I usually swim a mile. If I'm lazy or distracted by the hot blonde lifeguard, I'll do two-thirds of a mile. It's still a much better workout than I have when I go with Body Burner. We always warm up with a third of a mile, stop to talk about various things like Game of Thrones and then agree that we don't feel like finishing up. It's a pretty awesome time, but we're not exactly shedding much weight by utilizing this strategy.
Nevertheless, I Facebook messaged Body Burner about going to gym during a recent Tuesday (May 21).
Body Burner: I can't go. I volunteered for the election.
Me: Oh yeah, you told me that.
Body Burner: Did you vote?
Me: No. I don't even know who's running.
Sorry, but I'm just an ignorant American who doesn't keep up with local politics. However, as I got my gear ready for the gym, it suddenly dawned on me that I should go vote. The election center was on the way to the gym - it was held in the same building as the May 18 wedding - and in a township as small as mine, there's a better chance that I'd have the deciding vote than the presidential election. Thus, I figured that voting for this was more important.
I also had a third reason for voting, and you can probably guess what that is. Yes, I imagined I'd be able to rant about the many jerks I encountered throughout the process, and sure enough, I came away with tons of writing material.
1. Voting Area:
As I wrote in the May 18 wedding Jerks of the Week entry, my friends and I know the owner of the swim club where the election balloting took place because we used to swim and work there. He was a complete dick. He begrudgingly handed out 15-cent raises, yelled at everyone and was recently arrested for "simple assault, reckless endangerment to another person and harassment after his wife reported he pushed her and closed a car window on her forearm," according to the police blotter.
To give you a better idea of how much of an a**hole he was, he once approached Body Burner, then 15 years old, and asked if he could work on Labor Day Weekend. Body Burner truthfully told him he couldn't because of a family vacation, to which the owner replied, "I guess we'll see if you'll have a job here next summer." Seriously, who says something like that to a 15-year-old?
I used to post AIM away messages about this creep. Here are three that I unearthed:
1. People make up the weirdest days. I just discovered that today is National Boss's Day. That's right! All you swim club workers better call up our boss and wish him a happy National Boss's Day. His replies might be: A) "You're fired because I'm in a bad mood." B) "Make sure you do clean up camper poop in the bathroom with a toothbrush." or C) "I forgot to pay you your correct salary again, so you'll have to bother me until I fix it."
Shudder. I once had to paint the side of the pool with a toothbrush. I honestly have no idea why. At least I got a good tan.
2. Jen [co-worker] sent me this: "My boss is the biggest idiot out there. He could be the OFFICIAL spokesman for complete idiots and losers who wear high socks."
This guy had the worst fashion sense in the history of mankind. I don't know if he's changed his style, but he used to wear socks up to his knees, and he complemented that with a weight belt around his waist. He also had his tight t-shirts tucked in. He looked like a studly stud.
3. Yesterday morning, I walked into our pool, and the water was purple and cloudy, and there was trash at the bottom. Good stuff. Thanks. Way to have a swim team's pool ready three weeks into the season.
Ugh. This was the worst. The pool would never be ready on time because he was so cheap, so he'd fill the pool just as we'd go swimming. The result was that we had to swim in icy water. The pool was so cold once that I swam a 100-yard race and then forgot that I had done it. I was shaking for two hours after that. And now you see why I refuse to swim in pools that are 80 degrees or colder.
Luckily, I did not bump into this creep owner. I saw a bunch of old people instead. They were completely shocked that someone as young as me was voting. It was cool that they were in awe of me, but it was a bit annoying that they couldn't hear what I was saying. The old man who asked me to sign in asked me what my name was five times. Did his hearing aid break, or did he just keep forgetting? I don't know. Probably both.
I found it strange though that they didn't ask me for my ID. I don't get that. Couldn't I just have dyed my hair, changed my clothes and voted again? What was to stop me from doing that? I wondered about this as I voted and then started to walk out of the room. Coincidentally, a chubby woman yelled "excuse me, sir!" as I was nearly out of there.
Chubby Woman: Do you have a twin?
Me: Not that I know of.
Chubby Woman: Are you sure?
Me: Am I sure that I don't have a twin?
Chubby Woman: Yes. Someone who looked exactly like you was in here earlier.
Me: Well, that definitely wasn't me.
Chubby Woman: I better hope not, or I'd call the police for voter fraud!
Me: I don't know what to say.
Chubby Woman: He was wearing the same clothes too.
Me: Oh, really?
The chubby woman studied me carefully. Was I going to be the first person to ever be arrested for voting multiple times when really only voting once, and only doing so for writing material?
Chubby Woman: Turn around, please.
Chubby Woman: Turn around. I want to see something from behind.
Umm... perv, much? Nevertheless, I complied.
Chubby Woman: Nope, you're not the same person. You have a red stripe on the back of your shorts. The other guy didn't.
Wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wooooow. What a freaking idiot. That's how she determined that I wasn't committing voter fraud - the stripe on my shorts? Are you freaking kidding me?
Seriously, how stupid can you be? What was to stop me from going home, putting on different-colored shorts and then voting again?
I feel like if I cared more about this process, I would have done this. But like I said, I didn't even know who was running.
2. The Injured Girl:
I finally made it to the gym. As I've written, I like to walk into the pool area before getting changed so I can see what the temperature the water is. The board said the pool was 80. I normally would have just gone home - I'm telling you, my former boss traumatized me - but it was so hot outside that day that I didn't care.
There was something else of interest. This girl in her 20s was sitting on a bench with her head leaned against one of those large blue balance balls people do crunches on. She looked pretty hot from a distance; she was a brunette who was wearing a black bikini top. I would have approached her and asked if I could "assist" her in any way, but there was already an older guy standing there. Thinking about it now, I probably would've gotten on time to "help" her first had I not voted. See, kids, this is why you should never vote in any election.
I changed and walked out to the pool deck. The lane second-closest to the window-less wall was open, which was perfect for two reasons. First, it would put me close enough to the injured girl so I could A) see if she was indeed hot and B) find out exactly what happened to her. Second, I'd be in the lane next to the hot blonde lifeguard, who was going to be giving swim lessons to some little girl.
Unfortunately, my plans were thwarted. The male lifeguard cleared out the lane closest to the wall for the hot blonde lifeguard, so the fat woman who was already in that lane shifted her blubbery body to the lane I wanted to occupy. Thus, I was forced two lanes over. This pissed me off greatly; I would not be able to find out what was going on with the injured girl, all because some fat lady wanted to bob up and down in that particular lane. As if she couldn't do that in the therapy pool where all the normal fat women hang out. See, this is exactly why there should be no male lifeguards. They ruin everything.
I swam a few laps to warm up and then I stopped to see what was going on. There were now eight people around this girl, including the gym owner, gym manager and pool supervisor. The owner spent some time yelling at the manager. I tried to hear what they were saying, but I was too far away. I did manage to see that the injured girl was attractive. However, she was wearing gray shorts instead of matching bikini bottoms. I wanted to go over and chide her for poor effort, but I realized that this might be in poor taste.
I continued my workout. A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived. The fat lady was no longer in that lane, so I moved over to where I rightfully belonged. I was then able to get a better view of what was going on. I still couldn't hear everything, but the EMTs had a stretcher with them. I found it troubling that the two EMT guys looked like they were 12 years old. I guess they'll let anyone be an EMT nowadays.
The hot blonde lifeguard was at the other end of the pool, so I swam down to ask her what was going on. She didn't know what happened, so I continued my workout until the injured girl was wheeled off. The hot blonde lifeguard finished her swim lesson at this time, so I suddenly lost all motivation to complete the final third of my mile.
I hopped out of the pool and grabbed my stuff. The male lifeguard happened to be walking by as I ventured toward the locker room. I had the urge to curse him out for almost ruining my evening, but I thought it might be more useful to gather some information from him.
Me: Hey man, do you know what happened?
Evil Male Lifeguard: That girl dislocated her shoulder.
Me: Really? How'd that happen?
Evil Male Lifeguard: I don't know, she was just swimming. She said that it happens to her all the time.
Wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wooooow. What a wuss. Who calls the ambulance because of a dislocated shoulder - especially when it happens to be a chronic situation? I mean, I've never dislocated my shoulder, but I've seen countless TV and movie characters do it before. All they have to do to fix it is have someone else grab their arm and pull. It gets fixed every time.
Learning this new information, it suddenly dawned on me that the eight guys who surrounded the injured girl were geniuses. They could have just snapped her shoulder back into place by pulling her arm, but that would've just meant that she'd leave the pool area. By keeping her there, however, they'd be able to "assist" her for a longer period of time.
That's great thinking. It just goes to show that there are some super-slick people running my gym.
3. Yellow Wife Beater Man:
I drove over to Saladworks after I got out of the gym. They have $5.99 salads there on Tuesdays, so I always make sure I go there on that particular day of the week.
There are three types of salads that I get, one of which is just a plain Caesar salad with chicken and parmesan cheese. I hold the eggs because they don't belong in salads, as well as the croutons because I have better ones at home (the ones at Saladworks are too salty). I felt like getting the Caesar salad, but I had to wait until for this couple in front of me - a tan guy wearing an obscenely bright yellow wife beater and a short, hot chick who had dyed black hair and matching tight pants.
As they ordered, I texted Body Burner: "You missed it! There was a hot chick at the pool who had to be carted off into an ambulance!"
I heard my phone chime about a half of a minute after that, but it was my turn to order. I told the woman in her 40s behind the counter that I just wanted a salad with lettuce, chicken and parmesan cheese. She looked at me like I was insane.
Woman: That's all you get?
Me: Well, today, yeah.
Woman: You don't want croutons or anything?
Me: Erm, uhh, I have better croutons at home.
Woman: How about eggs?
Me: I hate eggs in salads!
Woman: How about corn?
Me: Meh, not too crazy about corn.
Woman: How about apple chips?
Me: In a salad? Why?
Woman: How about craisins?
Me: I'm not even sure what those are.
This final comment made the younger girl behind the counter laugh. The woman in her 40s just shook her head and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you." She poured Caesar dressing onto my salad and handed it to the cashier.
I was once again behind the couple. I heard the cashier ask, "Is this together?" A rhetorical question, right? Of course this dude was going to pay for the hot chick. But that was not the case. He said, "nah, separate."
I racked my brain for days, and yet I've still yet to come up with a scenario in which it makes sense for the dude not to pay for the hot chick. Let's go through all of the possibilities:
A. She's his girlfriend. Obviously not anymore. The one time I took the beautiful Awesome Girl Who Loves Football to Saladworks, I paid for her, and I was more than happy to do so.
B. She's just a friend. If she's just his friend, he's doing a poor job of trying to sleep with her. Seriously, dude, step up your game and get out of the friend zone.
C. She's just an acquaintance and they bumped into each other at Saladworks. The same applies. Dude, stop wearing heterosexually challenged yellow wife beaters and start trying to bang this hot acquaintance.
D. She's his sister. You should pay for your sister. And who knows? If you're kinky enough, maybe you can get some Jaime Lannister action going.
They left, and then I paid. As I walked out of Saladworks, I checked my phone and texted Body Burner back. We ended up having the following exchange:
Me: You missed it! There was a hot chick at the pool who had to be carted off into an ambulance!
Body Burner: NO NOT A HOT CHICK!!!
Me: I asked the hot blonde lifeguard what was going on, but she didn't know.
Body Burner: Poor hot chick so sad.
And poor Body Burner for missing all of this action. If he didn't have to volunteer for Election Day, he would've been right there with me to "assist" her. And that, my friends, proves that voting does more harm than good.