Just joined a gym.

Again.

Why are these places always full of the same people? How do they find so many people exactly the same and then allocate them evenly around the gyms?

Wacky Mr. Motivator Employee - No necked lycra lizard. Laughs like Kriss Akabusi with a loud hailer and greets inner circle of gym users with manly arm wrestle likely to cause injury if they're a bloke or fatherly arm round shoulders if they're not (assuming he can get his arm high enough in the first place given he is a) likely to be comfortably below average height and b) have shoulders like Ram-Man). Studiously ignores anybody who shows up at the gym less than six times a week. Keen observers will note that he never really talks to any of his inner sanctum.

The Other Trainer - Slender and slightly effeminate bloke who minces around like a trained ballet dancer. Makes a big ceremony out of shaking your hand when you first join and then studiously ignores you when you don't opt to be bled dry by the cost of personal training for which he charges you fifty quid so he can humiliate you in front of his mates. Can't walk past a mirror without straightening his back.

Freeweights Loiterer - Wears a sleeveless t-shirt. Hangs around the freeweights like Gollum hung around the Ring of Power. Never lifts a thing but occasionally does the odd chin-up before spending ten minutes pacing up and down with his hands on his hips like he's about to go for the Olympic record. Will be in the gym before you get there and there after you leave.

Gym Buddies - Allowed to use the freeweights by the Freeweight Loiterer because there's two of them. Always blokes, one of them will probably have a wooly hat on or a sleeveless t-shirt. They watch each other's rippling biceps as they train - briefly - before breaking off to talk technique for fifteen minutes so they can convince themselves they don't fancy each other. Avid watchers may spot a high five going down when one of them breaks a sweat.

Unfit Office Worker - As a kid he never looked right in a PE kit. Now, many many years later, he is still the same height and shape but with a pot belly. Think Penfold in shorts. He has decided to join the gym to get fit and because that is what everyone else at work does. At least that's what he tells himself. The fact he spends forty minutes working a cross trainer like he's having an epileptic trying to wrestle a tree from the earth with his war face on suggests he's working through some major issues. Wears glasses throughout.

Fine Tuner - Similar to the Freeweights Loiterer but actually does some exercise. He is a perfectionist in skintight labelled sports gear. Even his sweat patches look deliberately placed. Likely to be stood with some lightweight dumbells twisting his forearms slightly for hours at a time. He will stare intently at the same few muscle fibres looking for visible growth. Will eventually start scowling. He wants to project the pain of his perfectionism but really he's just sulking because his forearms haven't changed shape throughout his entire three hour routine... again.

New Guy - tubby sort in a football shirt desperately trying to recover ground lost to the first ten years of corporate slouching. Has a respectable degree and decent job but can't figure out how any of the resistance machines work. Starts looking confused when shoulder press machine seems to be exercising his legs more than any other part of his anatomy. Starts to look fed up when headphones get wrapped round machinery and he stacks it clambering off the machines with all the grace of a warthog with an emptied hipflask. Slouches off to use the rowing machine because at least that feels like exercise. Gives up after five minutes coughing up blood, wheezing and turning worryingly pale. Opts for ten minutes on the exercise bike before sheepishly leaving the arena and taking out his frustrations on a bag of Doritos and a blog.