The employee, a girl (we’re guessing, because she refers to a heel) who went to Yale (at least we’re guessing she did, because she says, something awesome in Goldman’s building “reminds me of another feat of limestone: the walls on Yale’s Beineke Rare Book Library.” ), hates only one thing about the “glossy brochure-ish” building: the gym.
I like my gyms in basement lairs; the better not to be seen as I pant and sweat. Using the Goldman gym [in one of the old buildings] was awkward enough – they give out uniforms, and it’s kind of strange to see your managing director on the elliptical next to you in a pair of grey cotton gym shorts – that I ultimately got a membership at a more, um, diverse place.
But now, it’s even weirder – you access the gym by a huge spiral staircase that lets off at a huge spiral set of sliding glass doors. It feels like something out of minority report. Right behind those doors are already people working out in plain view, and it creeped me out so much to see people essentially riding exercise bikes while looking straight at me through a glass wall that I turned on my heel and fled back upstairs.
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