I hate confrontation. I’d rather tell a ridiculous lie than get into a verbal skirmish. As everyone knows, cancelling a gym contract can be a prolonged and exasperating battle. I went through this process several years ago. When I told the orange woman at the front counter of the gym my intentions she frowned and one of the managers, a pony-tailed lady with a thousand-watt smile, came bounding out of the office.
So, Andy. You’d like to terminate your contract with us
Any particular reason?
Here was the point where I was should have been honest.
Yes, I’m moving and won’t be able to come into this gym and there aren’t any of your gyms near my house.
That’s what I should have said. Instead, I stammered, uh…yeah. I’m moving to Argentina.
Why? Why did I say that? Of course, now that I started the lie, I couldn’t leave it at that. I had to embellish it. I had to add to the lie until it was a snowballing jumble of words and falsehoods.
Yes, I’m moving there to research the sustainability of alpaca farming. Also, I met a lady over there. Her name is Maria and she has a son called Jose and I’m going to live with her.
And the alpacas?
Huh? Yes. The alpacas. Amazing animals… I trailed off.
I’ve been to Argentina twice. Where are you going to live?
Shit. She raised a solitary manicured eyebrow.
Buenos Aires. They’re, uh, urban alpacas. Are we done?
Mm-hmm. Enjoy Argentina, Andy, she said with a smirk.
I think I got away with it.