This is a guest post by Siddhartha Herdegen. Siddhartha Herdegen blogs at Principles of Failure. He thinks about a lot of things. He fails at practically everything. As an aside, Siddhartha won a book giveaway on this blog about four months ago and the book is still in my backseat. So, who else wants to participate in the dance contest? Okay, here’s Siddhartha again. Yah, I just hijacked his intro.

I’m not in great shape but I’m working on it. I may not be losing weight but I consider it good karma to exercise anyway.

So I’m doing something good; going to the gym during my lunch hour instead of eating yet another KFC Double Down.

And while I’m in the shower someone takes my towel!

Now, understand, I’m a rational guy. I know a lot of towels look the same. But if someone took mine instead of theirs, there should be another towel still hanging on the hook next to where mine was.

There’s not. I sense discomfort coming.

I’ve gotten dressed without drying off before. It’s almost as uncomfortable as wiping yourself with a hotel shower cap because your idiot roommate dropped the roll of toilet paper in the bath tub.

I look out into the locker room and there’s somebody’s great-grandfather moving in super slow motion. I seriously had to wait a moment to tell if he was actually moving or just a wax statue.

In his hands—you guessed it—my towel.

I don’t think I’m the only guy who doesn’t like confronting an old man with my genitals hanging out. But here’s the thing, you can’t clasp your hands in front of you like you just got pantsed in the lunchroom. You start doing the “fig leaf” and you lose people’s respect.

If you’re a man you’ve got to walk with confidence, even if you are dripping from the shower and carrying a bottle of Suave shampoo.

So I confidently sauntered up to this prune of a man who was gently drying the most inaccessible portions of his anatomy with my once white towel.

“Hey, I think you grabbed the wrong towel.”

His look told me everything I needed to know. This guy thought the President of the United States was still Gerald Ford.

“Huh, your…I’m sorry? What was that? Is this your…”

Uh, yeah that’s my towel…

He was still trying to figure out if I was his son.

“Oh did I? I must have taken it by mistake.”

Well, you can keep it now. Gross.

“Hey, easy to do,” I said. “No worries. Where’s yours?”

He stared at the empty towel hooks. He looked like he was trying to read Korean.

“You know, I brought a towel…”

He gave me a silly grin. I realized at that point I wasn’t getting a towel.

I think he was going to finish that sentence “…when I came to the gym in 1975.”

I pulled my clothes on over my wet body. I did not appreciate this.

We ended up coming out of the gym at the same time just as a middle aged woman was walking towards the doors.

“There you are Grandpa, I was getting worried. You left your towel in the car…”

He patted my shoulder with a big grin. “This kind young man let me borrow his.”

“Aw, that was sweet,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

Let me tell you, it felt great. And he was right; I was a kind young man.

Wait, wait, I know what you’re thinking. But I am a pretty nice guy. For all Gramps knows.

Isn’t that what it’s really about? Who cares what I’m thinking? As long as I’m acting kindly, I’m a kind person.

And now I’m a kind person who always keeps a spare towel in his locker.

Tagged as: guest post