Do you like the show “Pawn Stars”?
That’s a dumb question.
Of course you like “Pawn Stars”.
It’s currently in its 4000th season and is one of the all-time ratings leaders in the history of basic cable television.
And none of that would be possible if everyone didn’t like Pawn Stars.
Even if you don’t like Pawn Stars you are certainly, at the very least, aware of Pawn Stars.
Like you recognize the pudgy bald guy with the gruff voice as the owner of the shop even if you don’t instantly know his name is Rick Harrison.
And you’ve probably noticed that his motorcycle loving son Corey has lost some weight over the years even if you aren’t discussing how he seems to have a growing meth addiction in the comments section of YouTube videos.
You probably remember that the comic relief sidekick has an unusual name but probably don’t lay awake at night wondering how Chumlee (that’s his name) has actually become the most centered and relatable character on the show.
I’ve actually visited an honest-to-goodness pawn shop. Not only did I visit, but I bought something. And not only “something” but my first ever guitar.
It was on a trip to Memphis, Tennessee visiting my college roommate and his family. I thought I’d gain some extra mojo if I bought my ax from a real-life pawnbroker. Like the blues would just have no choice but to flow through my fingers if my first guitar had a cool origin story.
Perhaps some down-on-his-luck-but-remarkably-gifted musician owned the guitar prior to my purchase and would spiritually, if not physiologically, pass his talent through the fretboard directly into my hands.
And while this was not the case (just like with most everything you actually have to practice to get good), do I still relish the fact that I get to tell you that I got my first guitar at a pawn shop that was named “Guns-Guitars-Ammo” in the geographical homeland of Elvis and the blues and Stax Records?
Yes. Yes I do.
And while this is (thankfully?) my only experience in a pawn shop, and it was well over 20 years ago, I can tell you with some level of certainty that real pawn shops do not run like the one on Pawn Stars.
For starters, real shops do not have museum curators, vintage book experts, music store owners and collectible sneaker flippers on speed dial. And these people sure-as-shit aren’t walking into the store 10 minutes after a call, giving an expert appraisal on an item for free and then bouncing out. These people have businesses and lives and other shit to do. They aren’t hanging out in the parking lot waiting for Johnny Pawnowner to hit them up.
Secondly, pawn shops are not friendly, mom-and-pop shops turned treasure hunt where you find auction quality items at a fraction of the cost. Pawn shops are more likely to have used guns, old television sets and a broken set of dresser drawers than they are to have the bullet that killed Abraham Lincoln.
And this leads me to my main point. Pawn shops are not television worthy environments of realized dreams and high morality.
They are places of hopelessness. Run by professionals who broker on making a quick buck from patrons who desperately need money now in order to satisfy some other debt or addiction that needs immediate attention. And they are willing to take a very reduced value for their items in order to walk out with cash-in-hand.
I know what you are thinking.
“Where in the name of Arnold Schwarzenegger is Dan going with all this?”
It’s true, I usually spend three or four paragraphs maximum developing some sort of red herring before I loop you back into an honest-to-God fitness concept. And I’m currently 800 words in without a peep about programming or exercise selection or motivation.
Fair enough. Your patience has been appreciated. I’ll just get to it since I’m sure your Monday morning is filled with commutes and important emails and whatever it is you people do when you aren’t lifting weights in the gym under our supervision.
Speaking of gyms, too many of them (for my liking, at least) operate as if they were pawn shops.
Rather than give you honest information on how long it will really take before you reach your goals or what it actually takes you to get there, they are playing on your insecurities and desperation. Offering you mere “pennies on the dollar” when it comes to what they recommend and how it is going to service you.
They rely on dated tropes about how strength training will make you bulky or how endless cardio is the key to fat loss.
The pawnbroker does it by offering you 30% of the value of your item and justifies the offer by saying it’s the only immediate way to get cash out the door.
A fitness facility will do this by way of the 6 week challenge and advertising how many calories you burn in a session.
And, of course, they do this because it works as a marketing tool. There are always people out there who are desperate enough for cash or tired enough of their appearance that they will be drawn in.
But, dare I say it, the pawn shop actually has a bit of a moral high ground here. Because at least they aren’t pretending that you are going to get the best price from them, but simply (and accurately) that they provide the quickest sale.
Many fitness programs aren’t nearly as transparent. Rather they broker on fatigue or novelty or biohacking or get-fit-quick schemes that don’t work. And, unfortunately, they are masquerading as experts to an unknowing public.
Because while most people know that $400 is probably not the most money they can get for a Rolex, most people seemingly do not know that running on a treadmill as fast as you can, jumping off and lifting light weights as fast as you can and then running on the treadmill as fast as you can in a constant loop for 50 minutes is not, in fact, a good idea.
But I am here to confirm that it is not. There are no get-rich-quick-schemes when it comes to your fitness. And while surely some people will see results faster than others based on a whole variety of factors, it’s probably going to take you longer than you want to admit (or than most pros will tell you) to see the results that you are after.
It’s not that you won’t see results. It’s just that even the most staggering of transformations are made from a series of small progressions that take time to ultimately materialize into something dramatic.
And I am also here to tell you while there are many things that will work, there are a staggering number of things being sold that will not.
If you take nothing else but these two ideas - things take longer than you hope and there are best practices to get you what you want - from every word that I have written every Monday since, seemingly, biblical times at this point, I will be satisfied.
I still have that pawn shop guitar. I still play it. I’ve been lucky enough to have procured a few better instruments in my past 25 years or so of playing. And the more I’ve gotten to know about instruments it’s very unlikely that some old bluesman once owned it and pawned it for a pint of whiskey.
But I do love that guitar for what it has taught me. That everything takes time and practice. You may never be as good as you want to be but you can certainly always improve. And that the key to most any art is simplicity.
That all you ultimately need is three chords and - most importantly - the truth.