It's Simple, Really.

It's been a long month. Know what I mean?

I'm in the last leg of training the trainees, which is the good part. They are out workin' the circuit. They're getting their hands dirty, meaning I don't have to do all the cleaning! Ha! And I get to see them in action and help them adjust and use their new super powers.

This is where it hits the fan.

Of the last two trainees I trained, one was a rock star. Seriously. Loved her! Loved her! The members loved her. Everyone loved her. You get the point.  She was lovely and smart and sassy and just so stinkin' good at her job that some other employer her whisked her away.

It was tragic, really.

The second one was a pain in the neck the minute she stepped in the door. But that's all better now because she's gone too.

Don't let the door hit you on the way out....

This last batch felt pretty groovy. There is the Spy MIA owner, who, after depositing her youngest child in preschool, has returned to the gym. She is a sweet lady with a passion for fitness. I think I'm going to loves her.

There's the Kid. Not to be confused with the Child who worked here previously. I wasn't sure about the Kid. She had that college graduate, snooty, why is everyone here so old? look about her. She's comin' around after three long weeks of surviving my Navy Seal boot camp which features all sorts of witty stories peppered with "Don't do this or that or I won't be happy." comments. The Kid knows her stuff and if she can overcome her natural shyness she's gonna be all that and more.

The Therapist also joined our ranks. She's got a lot of living under her belt and she's not afraid to tell you all about it. The homework has been difficult for her here and there. Which I totally get. Heck, I cried on Day 3 and whined to Girl that I couldn't do it. (And just look at me now!)

Therapist possesses the BS Gene, as do I. I inherited it from my Father. Basically it means I can sell a refrigerator to an Eskimo or beach front property in Arizona. Therapist can too. Only she doesn't know when to shut it off. She talks too much. So, last night after giving her twenty-five cents during a sale, verses her two-cents, which would have been more acceptable, I asked her to "observe" only. I said that she should "listen" and not "speak" and she should leave the paperwork alone.

It didn't go so well after that.

Therapist was pouty.

Actually, she was down right ticked off and had no problem telling me so when I asked what was wrong.

I believe the "f" word was used and that her skin is way, way, way thinner than it should be for a woman of her age. For whatever reason she misconstrued my, "observe and listen" as "sit down and shut up".

I don't think I've ever said that to anyone. Not my children. Not my husband. Certainly not a co-worker.

But it's really my bad. I should have explained right out of the gate that "observe" means to listen quietly and to please ask questions after our guest has left. It should have been made clear that grabbing up financial paperwork in front of the guest would seem rude and unprofessional. It's all really very simple.

I apologized to the Therapist for making her feel the way that she felt. I let her go home early. I didn't lob a sweaty gym towel at her as she departed with her huffy, poor picked-on me, attitude.

Nope.

Tonight is round one with the Kid and the Spy. I'm expecting great things and now that I've learned that not everyone knows what the definition of "observe" is, I'll make sure to clarify to all parties exactly what's expected.

It's simple, really.