Why is it Easier to Buy a Car Than a Gym Membership?
Last week the transmission on my husband’s 1998 Ford Explorer went out. We’d known for a while that car shopping was in our future, but the thought of braving the heat and those awful car-selling tactics had caused us to wait until the final moment to do it.
My husband did his homework online and then we plodded down to the lot together. He in charge of acting manly and disinterested – I in charge of on-the-spot number crunching and keeping him focused in the face of sleek interiors and state-of-the-art navigation systems. We had the whole good-spouse-bad-spouse thing worked out. And in just a few days we had test driven, feature compared, and signed on the dotted line for sixty payments on a 2008 Toyota Tundra. (Yes, a big ole truck. That is a whole other story.)
Once we had it home, it was time to check another task off the list. My amazing yoga teacher is having a baby, and despite her rosy outlook, household responsibilities contract, and general ohm-liness, I figure she’s not coming back anytime soon. Call me intuitive or cynical, all I know is I need to keep my ass in shape. And, you know, calm.
So it turns out that I live not two miles from the largest World Gym in the world. It’s the world’s largest World. At least that’s what the guy in the muscle hugging spandex told me. This was after I asked for, and was refused, a week’s pass so I could try out all the classes and before he took us on a tour of the massive place. Baiting us with the executive locker room and free personal training, he was not unlike the smarmy salesman on the car lot.
Back in the office, we were offered a ‘special deal’ that would only be available that night. He paraded different prices and options before us in an ever-changing combination. He was really just trying to get us the best deal. Really. When we walked out he had that same hang dog expression as the car salesman the first time we walked off the lot.
But unlike the car guy, who eventually got our business, World Gym will not be auto-drafting my account for who knows how much every month for the next two years. After the guy had toured us around, shown us the sizzle, and tried to cut a deal, I asked him again for a week’s pass so I could try out the classes for myself. Again he refused.
At least the car dealers let you take your potential half-a-mortgage-payment out for a spin.
Not so for spinning class.
by Lela Davidson on June 23, 2009
in Suburban Bliss
These gym chains seem to have a fundamental misunderstanding of the concept of customer service. they try to lock you into giving up as much money as possible for as long as possible–they’d probably have more members if they were more flexible. Or at least happier members. Most of the people who pay exorbitant monthly membership fees don’t even go regularly. What a racket.
Exactly, Joe – it is a racket, and your last sentence is actually fundamental to their business model. If everyone showed up, they’d never fit in the place. I’ve known enough people in the business to learn that those ‘inactives’ are their bread and butter. The bigger the gym, the more fit-wannabes they need to cover the overhead. And I suppose, knowing that, I shouldn’t be surprised they didn’t want my business. Had I liked the classes, I would have been one of those pesky members who actually show up.
…which is another point in favor of the car salesmen. At least they know you’ll use what they’re selling you. Also, when was the last time you were able to pull your gym membership up to the drive up window at Sonic and order a buttload of onion rings, hmm?
Yeah, I thought so. Give me a 2008 Tundra over anything that makes me pay to sweat and look ridiculous anytime.
That’s always been my motto.
DeNae – Actually, the best part turned out to be telling people who are paying too much what they offered me!