I have had a shit day. It’s been the kind of day where every train is late, every green man is unlit and every boss in my temp job has a go at me for being on the internet.
I finally staggered through the day without resigning or suicide. I didn’t want to go for a swim, but I haven’t been yet this week. I had to.
So I made the journey to Kentish Town and entered the old building. Today I was served by Wolf from Gladiators. Actually not, that would have made this day the best yet (he’s so mean). But just a bodybuilder in a suit with that same inexplicable long permed hair that bodybuilders and male strippers have. He had been forced into a suit and his fingers were too big to press the right buttons for the “one adult swim” I’d asked for.
He fucked up the receipt, ripping out an blank piece of paper and letting the machine print on to air. “Did you want a reciept?” he bellowd. Like the girls that Busted asked to dance in the disco or the kids in Grange Hill I said no.
I walked into the changing rooms, found my normal booth and started to strip.
Down to just pants it occurred to me that if I’d forgotten my swimming shorts would I be able to get my money back, or would I have to do it in my underwear like at school?
Hohoho, I surely am a comedian.
I took the towel out of the bag, in it was wrapped the shower gel and swimming shorts. I let it unfurl gracefully to the floor. The shower gel bounced on the wet tiles. The swimming shorts did not.
I searched my bag – they were not there.
Suddenly not finding the idea of swimming in my pants very fun I dressed and went back to reception and Wolf.
I am already paranoid that they have a sign up behind reception with a picture of me and the simple instruction to laugh. but I’m skint and £2.90 is a lot of money to spend on getting naked then getting dressed again.
So I told Wolf what had happened.
He asked for my receipt
We argued about its existence. I could seei n his eyes that he either didn’t know how to do refunds, or they get him into trouble.
I could only see my £2.90 buying me a bag of chips.
Then he offered me a free swim voucher. “Perfect” I cried perhaps too enthusiastically and he wrote it out with clumsy big writing.
So I got no chips, but now have a free swim. Good day or bad? Can’t decide…