Most of us live in two or more worlds, and those worlds often barely intersect. For me, two worlds that I live in are sales and sports and fitness. Today’s stories combine the two.

Years ago, when I was very, very young I worked in a bike shop. One of the other salesman was an older fellow named Ramesh, one of the owner’s Mason buddies, as it happened, who despite being well-off and retired, sold bikes
to help out his friend.

Unlike us cycling-obsessed young guys, I’m not sure Ram even knew how to ride a bike, but his selling skills and customer service were excellent. And to his credit, despite the fact that he was clearly old and out of shape and he dressed as if he had wandered away from a regatta — white shoes and belt, light colored sport coat (with, more often than not, an ascot) — he sold a lot of bikes.

But that’s not the point. The point is that he did indeed cared about fitness: he wore a pedometer on his white leather belt.

After walking a mile pacing up and down the sales floor he’d go to the break room and have a cigarette.

He wasn’t alone in that regard. That bike shop’s cast of characters was enough for its own sitcom. Another sales guy, Richard, was a hard-core mountain bike racer. Wiry and tough, he rode and trained in excess of 300 days a year and was a perennial Top 10 finisher in races in town and around the province.

Richard also smoked up to two packs of cigarettes a day.

In fact, Richard was so committed to both his sport and his addiction that on more than one occasion he filled the bladder of hisCamelBak backpack hydration system with tobacco smoke so that he could smoke while he raced.

Not all the fitness shenanigan stories I have occurred in sporting goods stores either: put brash young men into a competitive working environment and all kinds of foolishness occurs. At the old Sony Stores, despite (or perhaps because of) the conservative, buttoned down atmosphere, inappropriate behavior was commonplace, and I’ve chronicled it here in this blog before (remember the story about the burning socks?).

Long story short: at one of the locations I worked at there was a gap in the front counter for egress to walk behind it. That gap was exactly the right width to put a hand on either side and do dips, a great exercise for your chest, shoulders and arms.

Being young, goofy and competitive, on slow days when there were no customers (or the store manager) around, we had competitions for money: throw $20 in the pot, and whoever did the most reps won it. I don’t think the prize money ever compensated anyone adequately for the ripped shoulder seams in suit jackets and dress shirts, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to WIN.