There was once an episode of King of the Hill somewhere in the 13th season, where the non-Hank plot of the episode was that Peggy, Dale and Minh realized that Bill was the perfect representation of the every man in the United States, and basically that anything he liked was worth putting some chips into on the stock market. Discreetly, of course. After a while, the troika began to make some money on stock market, and started to enjoy some of the luxuries that an influx of cash provides.
Eventually, it slips to Bill that he’s the guinea pig to them, and once made aware that his decisions had impact on others, the talent of inadvertently picking stock market winners vanishes as he becomes overly self-conscious of the things he likes, and the troika not only starts tanking at the stock market, they ultimately lose all their luxuries in the process and come back to zero.
Now there’s absolutely nothing to be proud of in comparing myself to Bill Dauterive, because in the show’s hierarchy, he’s the world’s biggest loser, in spite of his unknown wealthy background, fluency in Cajun French, and numerous talents, hidden because he’s the show’s punching bag. But in context of this post, I do feel like I can sometimes relate in being somewhat of an everyman.
I’m not autistic (at least I hope I’m not) by any stretch of the imagination, but I do find a lot of solace in routine and consistency. In the vast world of publicly available things that we as human beings like to take unofficial ownership of, I consider small victories throughout the day when I can get the parking spot I like to park in, the locker I like to store my shit in at the gym, the treadmill that I prefer to run on, and the stationary bicycle I like to ride for spin class. In each of these circumstances, there are always plenty of other parking spots, lockers, treadmills and bicycles available, and I’m definitely by no means taking the rockstar variants of any of them; I park far, I choose a far locker, the treadmill NOT behind the ellipticals the women use, and the bicycle not in the back corner where cheating is less seen.
Anyway though, in spite of the seemingly completely random locations in which I pick things to declare “my own,” it turns out that in each and every one of them, I’ll never be capable of keeping ownership for long, because inevitably someone else will always decide that they want them too. And it’s never (at least I think) cases of where I put my flag in someone else’s property or anything, because in often times there’s never anyone there before I show up.
I simply just do not get it. I deliberately pick things that appear to be unpopular so that I can stake my claim to it without having to worry about others wanting it, but inevitably, someone will take them from me.
Like the parking spot – when I first started working here, nobody ever parked there. It was empty every single morning before I realized that I was going to be a mainstay with this company, and I decided to stake claim to it to establish a routine. But now, I’ve got at least three other motherfuckers who decide that they want this out-of-the-way spot on a daily basis, and if I’m anywhere from 5-15 minutes behind on my morning routine, I’m probably not going to get it.
Out of the 300 available lockers at my gym, the one I prefer isn’t exactly in prime real estate. It’s far from the sinks, showers and toilets, and the television nearest to it is always tuned into FOX News. But it was always available, so I decided that it should be my daily locker. This too, wouldn’t last, the few mornings I arrive, and see someone else’s red or blue Master locks adorning the hinge.
Recently, I lost another unofficial belonging, which serves as the impetus for this post in the first place. Every Tuesday is spin class at noon, and I like to use the exact same stationary bicycle, in the precise spot where I started a little over a year ago. The thing is, amongst people I know, very few people actually spin. Most are content to smugly voice their opinion that spin classes are gay and/or are for middle-aged women and bored housewives. I don’t care, because I find it to be excellent cardio and I’m mildly attracted to the instructor.
Anyway, I show up to the spin area 15 minutes early like I normally do, so that I can warm up and get in some extra time to burn some more calories and overachieve in class, and I find that someone has put their shit all over the one bike that I like to use. Out of the 30+ bicycles in the entire room, someone chose mine.
Seriously, what the fuck?
And since this was a class that hadn’t started yet, I was going to see the asshole who decided to take my bike.
Sure enough, it’s some fat fucking noob I’ve never seen in class before. With a dopey sweatband around his head to draw attention away from his receding hairline like a fat white LeBron James.
It’s bad enough that he took my bike, but as class started, it turned out that he also smelled. I’m not saying it because I’m dissatisfied with his existence due to what theft he has committed, the truth of the matter is that the motherfucker really did smell. Like straight up mildew. I’m not certain if it was emanating from his body, or the clothing he wore, but the fact is, every time he moved, or toweled himself off (which was often, because he was a fat, out of shape but at least he’s trying to do something about it but I’m not here to defend him because I hate him, sweaty fuck), an unpleasant mildew odor would waft. I know it’s him too, because there is a pretty regular group of people who also spin when I do, and we’ve all kind of been near each other at one point or another, and never have I smelled such a rancid smell in class before.
But yeah, I can’t even have a regular routine stationary bike anymore, thanks to some fat gross piece of shit that seems to have the inadvertent precision preference to select the one bike out of 30+ that the most anal-retentive, routine-oriented person in the class has declared as their own.
The thing is, it’s not like I can be like Bill and screw other people up. I’m far too perceptive of the obvious routines of others, and far too respectful to not encroach upon their own pursuits of consistency. Taking the shit of others because someone has taken my shit doesn’t make anything right. It’s really that noobs should fucking respect their elders and show up late, to everything, see what’s not taken, and then take their cues that what’s leftover is up for grabs, for them to mold and shape into their own routines, until they’re no longer noobs anymore.
Seriously though, fuck all the people who take my unofficially mine shit. They need to learn their roles, and pay their dues too.Freedom ain’t free.
