The Greatest Con Man in History

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The Greatest Con Man in History

When you hear the phrase "Greatest Con Man in History," I'm sure a few names come to mind: Charles Ponzi, Frank Abagnale Jr., Victor Lustig, Bernie Madoff. I wouldn't begrudge you if you believed they were the most prolific swindlers that ever swindled, but I would have to disagree.

I enjoy working out sometimes. The pumping of iron feels good. My endorphins do need exercise once and again. But there are sometimes when the facilities in which I wish to pump this iron simply do not meet my standards, so I must find somewhere else to exercise. Alas, upon reaching the cheerful employee at the help desk (no matter the time of day), I am politely reminded that canceling a gym membership is perhaps the most tedious, frustrating procedure on the planet.

The Greatest Con Man in History is not a famous man. It is not, in fact, a singular person. The Greatest Con Man in History is in actuality the regional sales manager of your area's gyms.

Have you ever tried to cancel a gym membership? If so, did you give up? How often do you actually use that gym membership? Not often? You're not alone. An estimated 64.2 million Americans hold gym memberships. Of that demographic, a staggering 67% of gym members report rarely or even never using their memberships. That means approximately 43 million Americans are spending $780 per year (the average cost of a yearly membership) for nothing. Without having to lift a finger, the gym industry pulls down about $33.5 billion a year....all because people don't cancel their memberships. 

Now, why is this? Maybe you simply quit going to the gym and forget that you ever had a membership. Plausible, but not likely. A wasted $780 every year is not exactly pocket change. No, I would argue that people don't cancel their membership because there are an unholy amount of arbitrary, infuriating hoops to jump through. 

So...you approach the cheerful employee at the help desk around 3pm following your final lift. You politely inform them that you wish to cancel your membership with the gym.

"Splendid," they say. "What's the reason?"

You tell them there is no concrete reason---you just wish to cancel. 

"How unfortunate," they say. "Even more so, I cannot cancel your membership myself. That job belongs to the membership coordinator."

You ask to speak with the membership coordinator. You are politely informed the coordinator is only in the office between 9am and 11am. 

On Saturday, you call the membership coordinator. They don't answer. Rerouting to the gym's main line, the cheerful employee at the help desk politely informs you that the coordinator is only in the office on weekdays. So, you call on Monday. You are told you must come in person to cancel the membership. Upon arrival, the cheerful employee reminds you that the coordinator's office is at the other branch an hour away---you'll arrive after 11am. Darn.

Finally, on Tuesday, you find yourself seated in the membership coordinator's office at 9am sharp. Unfortunately, they mysteriously cannot locate your account. You pull up bank records and credit card reports on your phone. The coordinator's face is impassive, but you know they've been caught.

"I'd be delighted to cancel that membership for you, my friend. Unfortunately, there is a $30 dollar cancellation fee." 

Sometimes, if you are especially misfortuned, they'll charge you the $65 installment for the month even though the charge technically kicks in at the start of each new month. 

So you see, divesting yourself from a gym membership is a painful, grievous nuisance that some have neither the emotional bandwidth nor the mental wherewithal to complete. By making the process so glacially bureaucratic, they are effectively swindling you by making quitting painful enough that you stop trying. They want you to feel like you're fighting entropy, like moving these mountains just isn't quite worth it.

It's honestly brilliant.

Bernie Madoff pulled down $65 billion in a lifetime. The gym industry does $33.5 billion per year. Talk about prolific. It's the greatest con in history, and you don't even realize it.

3 Comments
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Level 81
Apr 24, 2026
Fairly close behind are membership websites, genealogy sites for example. Takes seconds to join up, with maybe a week or two free trial (a month if you're lucky), but try and find the cancellation page. It takes an age, with endless clicking through the depths of the website.
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Level 67
Apr 24, 2026
It really is amazing. Got to keep your wits about you!
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Level 63
Apr 26, 2026
Damn!