The Absolute Worst People at the Gym

The gym is already disgusting beyond imagination. Why are you making it worse? It takes three seconds. Wipe it down.

You just lifted them. This means you should be able to put them back. There is a rack. The rack is organized and labeled and tells you which dumbbell goes where. It's the easiest thing in the world to put your weights back. Every gym in the world should immediately revoke memberships for failing to rerack weights.

That unmistakable waft of onions and Subway Italian herb and cheese bread... This guy is impossible to be near while training. The effects of his stench on your body are almost exactly the same as sarin gas. Deodorant is not optional. Come on, dude.

They know everything there is to know about every exercise, every training regimen, and every diet plan, and they can't wait to tell you about it, even though you've never met. Also, this guy is usually short for a grown male and weighs about a buck twenty-five. Thanks, bro. I'll hit you up during the next famine.

This guy is "using" every single piece of equipment in the gym at the same time and he hollers out across the gym to let everybody know, "Hey, bro! I'm on that. Doin' a circuit!" Circuit training has a time and place, but it is not in a busy gym. Stop hogging all the equipment.

There is an iron bar above my head with hundreds of pounds of iron plates on it. Why do think that this is a good time to talk? It isn't. You shouldn't be distracted by your own inane conversation, you should be focused on making sure I don't drop that aforementioned rock weight on my skull.

If you're yelling that loudly, you clearly can't lift that much weight, you clearly don't have any regard for the people around you, and you're clearly going to give yourself an inguinal hernia.

This isn't a bar. You aren't out to lunch. This is the gym. Shut up and get to work. You are stealing equipment that others came here to actually use.

We know. It's a generational thing, and you come from a generation that fought the good fight, accomplished extraordinary things, and loves to parade around with its peen and pouch out. Well, we aren't from that generation, and your old kielbasa wriggling about isn't something we ever want to see. Towels are good.

It's not happening, my man. Ever. Not even once. Don't come to the gym to "pick up chicks." Come to the gym to train. That's what the majority of the women here are trying to do. They're trying to train. Stop distracting them, stop distracting all of us. The secondhand embarrassment is too much to deal with. Take your "game" elsewhere. Maybe an Arby's?

You are allowed to train without taking pictures of yourself. This recent global pandemic needs to be cured. The mirrors in the gym serve a very specific purpose: checking your form and double-checking that you aren't a vampire. Notice that neither of those things is taking pictures of yourself. No one back at the office will be impressed.

They're locusts. They're everywhere, and they're not going anywhere anytime soon. Look for them at the gym nearest to you, drinking pre-workout shakes together and talking really loudly about the "chick they banged" last night and probably lying about it.

You'll find this guy or gal on the bench you need just hanging out and texting whoever. He or she does one set about every 10 minutes. Are you here to train or are you here to text?! Your phone or that bench: pick one.

The squat rack is for squats. Why are you and your chicken legs doing curls in it? Specifically to prevent me from doing squats? Feels like it. GET OUT OF THE SQUAT RACK AND GO DO CURLS LITERALLY ANYWHERE ELSE IN THE GYM.

Congratulations! You look like a cloud. The Old 'Roider at your gym will try to work out with you on every single machine you're on because he thinks he owns the place (probably because he worked out near Arnold once back in the early '80s) Buzz off, Cloud. (Though I won't say this to your face because you are enormous.)

No one else can hear what's in your headphones, but this doesn't stop you from singing your heart out... really, really, loudly. You look insane. You are, in effect, singing loudly to yourself to a song that only you can hear. That's the definition of insane. Leave.

Yep, we all see you. You did it. You won, or whatever. You can go home now without doing a single exercise. ...Oh, that was your plan anyway? Great, kbye.

You're new to the gym. You're new to fitness. That's all good. We're all allowed to be new. We can't all know everything, and we can't all be naturally gifted at everything. ...But seriously, these are the moments when you phone a friend. Reach out. Get help. You're making everyone nervous.

Finger shoes? check. Compression everything? check. Dry Fit everything? check. When did the going to the gym become going to a fashion show? This guy or gal wants to train and they want to look good doing it. Fine, maybe you think you look good. Maybe everyone else thinks you just spent well over $500 on an outfit that you exclusively sweat in.

What'cha doin'? Not much? Yeah... not much. Please get off the machine and let someone who came here to train have a go.