Hardwood floors.

Slate tile.

Limestone backsplash in the shower.

Whose exceptionally tasteful home is this?  Nobody’s…

…..It’s my new gym!

One of the first things I learned in Grade 12 Economics was the difference between wants and needs.

A need is something that you require to sustain life, such as air, shelter, food, and clothing.  A want is basically everything else…

As a society, and as a people, we’ve certainly moved beyond the simple needs and have become obsessed with our wants, and the need for more, more, and even more.

Now while I define myself as a pure capitalist, there are some things about me that might surprise you.  For example, I don’t see myself driving a Lexus anytime soon, because a Toyota does the job just fine.  Perhaps this has more to do with image, status, and an individual’s level of superficiality, but while I myself have just as many wants as the next person, mine don’t seem to be quite as posh.

I encountered a situation at my gym last month that has made me even more cynical towards society and our endless quest to surround ourselves with all the “finer” things in life that we don’t really need.

Before I delve into that story, permit me to backtrack for a moment.

Several neighborhoods in North Toronto, which were constructed just after World War II, were erected with rows upon rows of bungalows.  At the time, these houses were perfectly sufficient and met the needs of your typical 1950’s family.

In the 1980’s, these bungalows were great candidates for “top-ups,” which were all the rage back then.  Keep the bottom level of the house, and throw up a second storey whether it looks good or not.

Today, people are tearing down bungalows, 2-storey houses, and other structurally sound residences to make way for newer, bigger, better, and sexier homes with all the bells and whistles.

People NEED granite counters, they NEED crown mouldings, wainscoting, and iron railings, and they NEED a Wolf Range in the kitchen.

I have a friend whose family owns a cottage up in Port Severn.  But this is not really a “cottage,” but rather a house that happens to be up north.  The features and finishes of this “cottage” would trump that of almost any house in any neighborhood in Toronto, and suffice it to say that those features I mentioned above are all present in this particular cottage.

Even though I know that people NEED these things in their houses, and even though I know people NEED these things in their cottages, I never thought I’d see the day when people NEED these things in their gyms…

I have been working out at The Dunfield Club at Yonge/Eglinton since I was 18-years-old.  They have undergone many small renovations, an ownership change, and several “re-births,” but they are currently undergoing a huge transformation.

Last week, I entered the office of one of the salespeople that are grown in test-tubes and seem to multiply each week, and I sat down with him to ask what the hell was going on.

I was upset that new members are paying ridiculously cheap fees, while I continue to pay $85/month.  I told him that they are so obsessed with gaining new clientele, that they are neglecting their long-time members.

I asked him to please enlighten me as to why I should stay with The Dunfield, and why I shouldn’t go to one of the gyms popping up on every corner of the city.

He then said to me, “Why don’t we take a look at….the book.”  He proceeded to pull out a leather-bound portfolio, and place it in front of me while gently running his hand over the embossed lettering on the cover.

With a very suspicious smile, he cockily said, “Go ahead, open it,” and I did.

On the first page was an artists rendering of some sort of steam room or something.  I asked him what this was.

He leaned back in his chair and said, “That’s what the new men’s change room is going to look like,” with an ear-to-ear grin.

I took another look and said, “Are these hardwood floors?”  He told me that they were, in fact, Brazilian cherry hardwood floors.

I paused, gained my composure, and said, “And THIS is supposed to impress me?”

He looked stunned and said, “What, you don’t like these?”

“No!  I don’t!  Why the hell do I care if the change rooms have hardwood floors?  Is this gonna cost me more money each month?”

He explained to me that the new change rooms would also have limestone floors in the showers and rain-forest shower heads, and a 52-inch plasma television, and said, “So I guess you’re going to tell me you have no use for a big screen TV either?”

I angrily replied, “NO!  I DON’T!  Who comes to a gym to watch television?  Who cares if the tiles in the showers are nice?  Are the toilets made of gold too?  I come into the change room, you know……to CHANGE!”

He asked me, “Um, have you seen the carpets they have up there right now?  Grooo—-ooooss!”

At this point I realized that perhaps he would be better suited as an interior designer, or a close friend of Steven & Chris.  (to quote Seinfeld: “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!)

He went on to detail every single change the gym would be undergoing, and I realized that only a fraction of the changes had to do with the actual gym equipment itself, while most of the work was with respect to the amenities, facilities, and appearance of the gym, er…..”club.”

Is this what is truly important to people these days?

About 5-6 years ago, there was this one woman at my gym I nicknamed “Chatty Cathy.”  She always showed up at 5PM on Wednesday or Thursday, and with her hair down, earrings in tact, and designer headbands and sweatsuit, she would cruise from room to room in search of familiar faces to converse with.  In two years, I never once saw her pick up a weight or actually use a machine.

My only interraction with Chatty Cathy came when she was sitting on an incline bench in the free-weight section one day, chatting away with a friend.  I politely inquired, “Excuse me, are you using this bench,” to which she replied that she was.  Ten minutes later, after I realized that she was just sitting there talking, I asked her again, “Are you working on this bench?”  She sternly replied, “Yeah, can’t you tell?”  I told her, “Lady, working your jaw doesn’t count.  You wanna talk, go to Starbucks.  I’d like to use this bench.”

And I’M the bad guy…

As my gym has relocated me to the even more posh Delisle Club for a month while they complete the renovations to the men’s change rooms at The Dunfield, I can’t help but pine for the days when people went to a gym, you know—-to actually workout!

I’m not about to go to Gold’s Gym where they basically spit on the floor, but I’m just not ready for a gym with an authentic brick fireplace where hot coccoa pours from the taps.

I can’t help but think that it won’t be long before I enter a brand new house in Lawrence Park and make mention of the gorgeous hardwood flooring, and my client says to me, “Oh, nice….those are the same floors they have at my gym….”