At Your Leisure

Forward: for my American friends, “Leisure” is pronounced “Leah‘ sure” not “LEE‘ zur.”
Please pronounce it that way in your mind as you read this essay*.

(*“Essay” sounds more professional than Blog Post.)

Our local leisure centre is, for want of a better word, owned by the Council. It’s a facility we pay for with our taxes, and it provides services for the community. It’s where we swim, early in the morning, two days a week (I have written about this activity several times, and let’s just say I have come to peace with it) and is wildly popular.

The Council, however, do not operate it; that falls to an outside company. Though I am told this is a not-for-profit outfit, it is plain their eyes are firmly on the bottom line.

Somewhere in an office, sometime in the recent past, some wonk sat at his desk, frowning at the spreadsheet on his computer screen, his brow furrowing as he notices the number in the lower-right corner. It is not as high as he thinks it should be. Therefore, things need to change.

Somehow, this man, who has no idea about the running of a leisure centre, decides the revenue reduction is down to theft of services, and institutes measures to counter it. Hence, our new wristbands.

This was something they used to do a long time ago, but they dropped it as a bad idea. Obviously, this was before the anonymous policy-wonk was hired. Now, instead of paying and going for a swim (or a workout, if you are so inclined) you need to strap on a wristband, as if you are going to an open-air concert. The idea is, no one can sneak in and go for a cheeky swim or use the Stairmaster or bounce a medicine ball around without paying the fee.

First of all, this wasn’t happening, and even if it was, a person going inside, using equipment and leaving does not cost anyone any money, so there is no savings involved even if this is happening, which it isn’t. And on the flip side, these wristbands are not free, and they come with two tabs that you can tear off and put in a bin, or not, along with used wristbands. Someone needs to spend time cleaning this up, the desk staff need to spend time handing them out, and the lifeguards need to check that people have them. The end result is, it costs money, wastes time, makes hall-monitors out of the lifeguards, enforcers out of the reception staff, and pisses customers off. All to solve a problem that doesn’t exist. (This is a genuine moan about the local leisure centre, not a political metaphor, but if you want to go that way, have at it.)

In addition to the wrist bands, they have removed the locks from the lockers. This, on the surface, is not a bad idea, and should save real money. Having each locker fitted with a key that you need a token for created issues including broken locks, lost keys, etc. Pushing the responsibility—and the cost—onto the customer to purchase their own lock has appeal, and it should work, except for, you know, people.

You can just as easily lose a key to your own lock (even easier, as the locker keys were fitted to a bracelet), and a combination lock works well unless, like my wife, you are blind without your glasses. Also, some people don’t care to buy a lock and just bung their stuff into any old locker and leave it there. Or, they do buy a lock, bung their stuff into a locker and leave it locked up, meaning the reception staff now need to acquire a bolt-cutter to free up the locker. Wasted expense, wasted time, wasted effort, though I have to admit I think the cost savings outstrips any deficit in this case.

The final straw, however, came with the new signs in the lobby.

The entrance hall, or lobby, is large, and has a dozen tables scattered around for people to sit at. Or at least it used to.

Now, according to numerous signs, you are not allowed to sit at any of those tables unless you have bought something to eat or drink at the café.

The café is, well, I’m not sure, because it isn’t open when we are there. So, does that mean I need to stand amid the forest of empty tables simply because I can’t buy anything at a closed café? And how would my sitting down at an empty table outside a closed café deny the company operating the leisure centre any income?

And it seems to have escaped their notice that this is a Council building, paid for by the residents of Horsham, who have every right to walk into the lobby and sit at a table and work on their laptop or read a book or stare at the ceiling. To block the public from public places is (or should be) a crime.

It’s completely ludicrous and everyone ignores the signs because it is obviously a naked attempt by the operators to appear to be solving a problem that doesn’t exist so they can perceive to be making savings.

(Again, this is a genuine moan about my local leisure centre, not a political rant, but if you want to go that way, I won’t stop you.)