A new gym, American Bodyworks, will be opening up next week just down the street from me. I can literally walk there. (Heck, I can probably hop on one leg there.) So, when I told the gentleman behind the counter at Gold’s Gym on Capital Circle in Tallahassee that I’m considering canceling my $20/mo, no-contract membership, he handed me two forms to fill out while telling me that the cancellation requires a 30 day notice, meaning that I’ll be billed for next month. Okay, fine, so I’ll delay my departure for 30 days. An inconvenience, but understandable.
When I curled up next to the fire to review the cancellation forms, I noted that:
1. The form I’d be filling out is not a cancellation form, but merely a Request for cancellation of membership. The title, in its entirety, is in all caps, while request was also beautifully bolded and underlined (I felt I should spare you the visual agony of doing it here).
2. The first sentence of the first paragraph states, “Below are the ONLY cancellation provisions provided by your contract.” Ironically, I signed up for their no-contract membership. If this form asserts that I have a contract, then they’re repeatedly lying on their advertising online and throughout the city. Have a looksie.
3. The footer of the form reads in all caps (I’m assuming they think it flexes their legal muscle this way), “We strongly suggest you mail your cancellation request via certified mail with return reciep [sic] requested.” The form also says we should send it to the attention of “Matt”. Just “Matt”. If this form is that important to you, I recommend a last name and a title.
4. The next page is entitled “Membership Exit Interview” which lists, get this, 10 open-ended questions.
It’s been a normal gym experience. I go. I leave. No one bothers me. No one interacts with me. That’s just how I like it.
But now, after reviewing these forms, I sense my cancellation will be tedious and unnerving, and very a likely a workout in itself. Why do companies do this? To get an extra $20 out of my pocket? Seriously?
This is the time when a company should be overly gracious and sickeningly sweet. Why not sit down with me? Ask me questions and look at me in the eyes? And here’s a novel idea: you take notes. Don’t give me work to do, tell me this isn’t really a cancellation form I’m completing, and suggest I protect myself by sending the form via certified mail.
The whole thing smells worse than one of my post-workout towels.
Tell you what, Gold’s Gym — I’ll show up tomorrow and give you $40 if you promise to let me walk.
Had a similar experience? Drop a note. Love to hear about it.
Hope you’re well, and thanks for stopping in.