No Respect!

Last spring I went to work for a property management company as a Leasing Consultant/Activities Director. The pay was much better than I received at the gym, it wasn't a terribly difficult job, I didn't work evenings or weekends and I liked my boss. My biggest goal was to hit that six-month mark just in case I got laid off (unemployment benefits you know).

I passed that mark in November and everything seemed to be moving along just fine and although me and my co-workers were hearing the rumblings of the property being sold, no one at home office would give us any firm details.

Of course the property sold. Of course it did.

Our new management company seems okay. Well, it's a bit difficult to tell what they are like. Thus far they have made all sorts of promises about this and that...and then dropped the ball...on me.

My new BIG boss, who incidentally is just a few years older than my son, promised that we would all get paid on schedule. Even when my immediate boss asked him directly about a time card for Annie, he said he had it all under control and that he didn't want us to wait until after Christmas to get paid.

Of course, everyone got paid. Everyone except me.

Thanks BIG boss for making that happen and for apologizing for the mix up. Sure...

And thanks Payroll for being so nice about it. NOT!

I've spent the last week cleaning everything in site at the office. Why you ask? It's because the old company took my computer and the new company still hasn't provided one for me. When BIG boss arrived the day after the sale (note that he didn't even bother to call the day of the sale to tell us what was going on) he had a computer for my boss...but nothing for me.

He leaned on my desk and asked if I needed one...

I'm starting to get the feeling that he has no idea what I do.

So, here I am, back at square one. New company and no sure footing.

I wish I had asked the old company to lay me off so I would not lose unemployment if the new company cans me.

I wish the new company didn't think of me as insignificant.

I feel like Rodney Dangerfield...no respect!

Worth Reading

If you're up for a quick ready. Go here:

http://poetry-outlet.blogspot.com/2011/06/t-cirrus-mann.html

In other news:

The job is stressful when I'm at the other property. I prefer my current property and am hopeful my torture at the other one ends soon. Bleh.

And Beloved and I are off for a couple of days out of town. We are going to see Alison Krauss and hang out in sporty, touristy town. Should be oodles of fun!

And...yes, I suck at blogging these days. So. Busy.

This is Annie and I'm Listening

I've been MIA from blogging. I'm too busy and too frazzled, but it's all in a good way.

Working in property management is interesting and seldom dull. The best part is not being micromanaged about every flippin' detail every single day. It's refreshing and I'm allowed to be creative and bring my own ideas to the table. Plus, I have a marketing budget. Do you know how much fun it is to create and execute events (mindful of the budget) while spending other people’s money?  Dude, it is super cool!

And they PAY me a very nice salary to do this. It's amazing. 

Of course, there is a down side too. Because our residents are 55+ they have different ideas about the way things should be done and they are not afraid to tell you or me, as the case may be. Sometimes they'll simply phone me and share what's on their mind. Other times they'll just pull up a chair in my office and begin telling me their tale. This is all especially fun because I'm new and they feel the need to share the story...from the beginning...of time...

For instance, yesterday I got to hear all about the dead bushes outside one sweet, little old lady's window. She told me how the big snowstorm had killed them, how the previous foreman had promised to remove them, and how the current foreman was a lazy good-for-nothing. Her tone dripped sweetness as she wheedled her words across my desk in an attempt to get me to fix her problem.

Sadly, that isn't my department and I cannot do a thing about it, other than to ask the foreman what the deal is and ask if we could just remove them. Honestly, I don't know why they haven't been removed or why we haven't jerked them out of the ground. I feel a little bit like marching down there with a shovel and just digging them out. It would probably take me about half an hour. 

Instead, I smiled and I listened and I apologized during the twenty-minute conversation.

She welcomed me to the property and tottered away leaving me a little battle weary and just as I sat down at my desk, Problem Number Two entered my office. In the beginning, about a month ago, I liked Problem Number Two. She's funny. She's well traveled. She makes me laugh. I didn't realize that it was all a ruse and that she was simply trying to gain some footing for her real agenda: gossip.

Problem Number Two is the first one to come into the office when the police/ambulance/fire truck has been on site. She's the first one to casually mention who is "dating" whom, and she always knows how late her neighbors get in.

Yesterday, she told me the entire history of the poker playing, drug making, cancer faking, blind, con artist who moved away but is now back - taking advantage of one of our male residents, making more drugs, and conning the entire complex.... again.

The forty-five minute conversation ended with a complaint about someone's car being parked in the "loading zone" in front of her building. 

Only, we don't have a loading zone...I made her happy by walking down, looking at the vehicle, and writing it on my notepad. Not that anything will happen because no one is breaking any rules.

Then, of course, there was the frizzy blonde who came in to accuse us of breaking into her apartment and replacing her THREE-unit phone with a TWO-unit phone. She accused our landscapers of following her from her previous apartment to her current residence. She snarled that our foreman was in on it because, "They stick together.... that kind..." The landscapers are Hispanic and our foreman is Native American...

By the end of the day I was ready to lock up shop and flee to the safety of my forty minute drive home, which wouldn' t be a forty minute drive if people would JUST DRIVE THE SPEED LIMIT!

I love my new job, I do, but I'm starting to feel like a shrink whose only solution is to write a prescription to mask the problem, not cure it.

Making an Impression

This week was to be my second full week. I was starting to feel my grove and getting use to the 8-5 run. It wasn't all that bad either.

On Monday my trainer came into town and we spent a lot of time going over the software, etc. It was a little tedious because I had already gone over most of it in the online training, but I didn't want miss any tips or shortcuts that she could show me. Trainer is super nice and very funny and she knows her stuff!

Things were going great until about 2:00pm. That's when the cold bug hit me up along side the head and caused my nose to run, my head to ache, and my throat became the home of a large and unruly toad.

Croak!

Because I'm new and because I know that making a good impression is very important, I showed up for work Tuesday morning. Both the Manager and the Trainer looked at me and asked, "Why are you here?"

I explained that it was just a cold and that I also had phone training scheduled with a party back east and didn't feel that it was right to call in sick. They both told me that I should go home. Manager said that if I wanted leave after my phone training that would be great.

Then she promptly wiped down every single surface in her office with Clorox wipes. I noted that there was a LARGE container of Clorox wipes on my desk as well.

Gee, can I take a hint?

After I completed my phone training, the Trainer told me I should go home.

Everyone wanted me to leave.

I could smell the Lysol.

So, I went home.

And I called in sick today.

And even thought they said it doesn't look bad, I feel like it does.

What a way to make a first impression!

Sniff
Sniff
Cough
Cough

Crabby McCrabby and His LOUD Friends

First day on the job went really well. I learned that I have a lot to learn. A LOT. I was handed two very large binders and one smaller one and told to read them. I have online classes. I have a telephone class. I have no idea how I'm going to learn all this stuff.

Oi!

But it's good! It's exciting! It's something new and different.

And speaking of different....

I met many of the residents who reside in the complex I'll mainly be working at. Some were super sweet. Others were friendly. A few wanted to know if I would be sticking around or if the other property would steal me away. Then there was the crabby ones.

They complained about their rent.

They complained about burnt cookies (from days ago).

They complained about how hot it was. (Seriously, it was a lovely lovely lovely day topping out at around 77 degrees).

They complained about their neighbors.

And I watched Megan the Masterful deal with each of them in her sweet, understanding way. Her smile never faltered. Her tone was even and kind. She listened to them, reassured them, explained things to them, and reiterated company policy over and over and over again.

Dude, she's amazing.

My office, yep, my own little office WITH conference table, is just down the hall from the billiards room. Those men get real serious about pool. I listened to them carry on for over an hour and couldn't help but smile at their exclamations.

I met the charmers, who hold your hand too long. I met the really nice, soft spoken gentlemen. I met their wives and their girlfriends.

I met the sex kittens, who at 60+ are still on the prowl.

I met those sweet grandma types who just dropped by to say hello and comment on the weather.

Over all, it was a good day.

Change is Good

New Boss: Hi it's Megan!

Me: Hi Megan!!!

New Boss: So, I got your criminal background check paperwork back from corporate. You should have told me that you poisoned your first husband....

Me: Did I forget to mention that?

Tomorrow I begin my new job. I have packed everyones lunch, prepared my gym bag, and considered (and reconsidered) what to wear.

Girl gave me an early Mother's Day gift and paid for a manicure so my nails would look all purty on my first day. 

This new position is going to be such a great fit and I am truly looking forward to working with Megan (who is  a m a z i n g). I think we'll make a great team and the parts of the job that she doesn't care for, well, they are right up my alley.

When she interviewed me she said, "Okay, so that's all the fun stuff. Now let me tell you about the bad stuff." She went on to explain that at this complex management hosts some form of party every month. This means doing all the planning, decorating, and cooking. Every Friday we provide home baked cookies in the club house. 

I LOVE TO THROW PARTIES AND BAKE COOKIES!

The down side for me will be making sure that I keep the 45 lbs I've lost off! 

NO COOKIES FOR YOU!

Life is going to be different around here, but I'm sure we will all adjust. If nothing else it may just be the catalyst for Girl FINALLY getting her drivers license. Sooner or later she's going to get tired of taking the bus. 

Right?

Change is good and this new job means we can actually do some of the home improvement plans we've been whining talking about.

I'll probably won't sleep a wink tonight. I feel like a kid before the first day of school. 

I Wasn't Looking....Honest

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from a former co-employee. She offered me a job, stating that she knew I would be the perfect fit. She admitted that she felt a little guilty stealing me away from Curves (she thought I was still at the old location) but that she could offer me more money, no night or weekends, and advancement.

What's a girl to do?

I applied of course.

I told my new boss about the offer and that I felt guilty about possibly leaving her gym. Mel told me that if the same offer were made to her that she would take it.

"Go for it!"

I had three interviews, the last one being this afternoon. I've been offered the job at a wage well above the going rate, even though I have no experience in this line of work. My new boss said that she felt confident offering me the post and the pay because she feels I will bring a lot of experience and enthusiasm to the position.

I'm super excited!

Another wonderful thing is that I can still work at the gym and continue learning about management and ownership.  My heart is still set on owning my own gym some day.

There have been a few people who assumed that I was "looking" for a new position, but I swear I wasn't. It just fell into my lap and it's such a great opportunity that I couldn't pass it up.

It means I'll be able to pay to have a new fence built, have the house re-plumbed and support some of the ministries we've been unable to support in the past.

It means my Beloved can breath a little easier.

It means I can help Boy and Girl with life expenses.

It means full time....gulp.

Not really! I'm really looking forward to learning something new and seeing where it all takes me.

Wait...What?

So, I thought I had things all figured out.

I had a plan.

Then one little message on Facebook gave me pause. It threw me a curve. One I hadn't expected or was looking for.

Now I like an adventure as much as the next guy, but really God? Really?

He's got a great sense of humor.

I'll be meeting with the person who posted the message in the next few days. Let's see if she truly makes me an offer I cannot refuse.

Then I may need a new map, because I have no idea where my life is leading me!

I Think I'll Adopt Her

When I first met her, frankly, I never thought she'd last as an employee at the gym. She was too cute, too young, and she came off a bit snooty.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Little Miss AG is a doll! I love everything about her. She is sharp as a tack, witty, and so fun to work with. She fell in love with our gym girls and in return they adored her.

A few months ago she asked me if I thought she should apply for a job in her field, even though she lacked experience. She has a degree and was working at our little gym to make ends meet. Little Miss AG was too smart to toil away her days and her brains at the gym. Of course, I encouraged her to apply even if the job seemed a little out of her league. The mother hen in me rejoiced when she was offered a part time position with a great company.

I suppose we all knew that sooner or later her new boss would see what the rest of saw: AG is a rock star!

Today was AG's last day at the gym. I'm so happy for her and so sad to see her go. I'll miss her curly hair. I'll miss her funny laugh. I'll miss how she rolls her eyes when someone is ridiculous and the way those same eyes dance with mischief when she's joking with someone.

I'm gonna miss this kid.

I asked if we could keep in touch and if we could be Facebook friends. AG looked at me with a shocked expression and said, "Aren't we friends?" Man, I love this kid! I remember the first shift she worked after New Years, when she burst into the gym to show me her new engagement ring. She told me how excited she was to get to work so that she could share her big news.

I swear it's like she's one my kids.

Goodbye pretty little girl. You will be dearly missed.

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.

And the Academy Award Goes To: Annie!

Weird Hippy Girl, I've renamed her you see. Idiot wasn't very nice. Not really and I try not to be too mean or too nasty. Honest.

She, Weird Hippy Girl, formerly known as Idiot Hippy Girl, is the bane of my existence. Okay, not so much the bane as an annoyance. She's the wrench in my job, the tack in the road, the mouse stealing the cheese.

mmmmm.....cheese....

So. Weird Hippy Girl joined our gym on a temporary basis (woot!) and her thirty days is just about up. When we run a promotion such as this, we always want to sit down with the prospective member and talk about their experience with us. Usually, and trust me dahling, we are fabulous, the conversation is super positive and the prospective member becomes an actual member.

She's so happy!

She's lost weight!

She's lost inches!

She's sleeping better!

She feels less stressed!

These are moments that we love. It proves to the individual that our program works like we say it does, fast, fun, and safe!

I knew going into this meeting that it would be different. Weird Hippy Girl wasn't happy that she'd lost weight and inches. She wasn't impressed by the fact that her body fat decreased. Like she told me, "I lose weight every summer without working my a** off!"

Okkaaayyy....

As I directed her to our meeting table, smile plastered on my face, she told me she had some suggestions for us. 

Terrific...

First, she pointed out that we do not carry enough food preparation items, such as food scales. She informed me that our "diet book" (which isn't a "diet book" duh!) lacked all the calories for all the foods she'd eaten. Weird Hippy Girl was perplexed as to how to find the calorie count of a banana or white rice or a maple glazed donut. 

I made up that last one...just so you know.

I kindly shared that she could find a food scale for a very reasonable price at our local Target store. I also shared the website for an awesome health and fitness site that includes a calorie counter. Then I told her, "If all else fails, you can Google calorie counter."

I was pleasant. I was smiling. I knew that the interview was nearly over and that she had no intention of joining, but still it was my job to impress on her the importance and value of your gym in her life.

Weird Hippy Girl wants to investigate other gyms (please do!) and look for the best value for her money. I pointed out that at another gym she will have to pay a personal trainer by the hour for the type of attention we provide her as part of her membership. I described the value of a 30-minute workout verses a 90-minute workout. Of course, I also exalted all the FUN and WONDERFUL women who make up our little gym. And I reminded her that we have the most advanced workout system available all a part of the great value that is Curves.

She couldn't deny any of what I said and I was just beginning to see the end of our time together when she looked me dead in the eye and said, "I have suggestions for you as well."

Just so you know, I did suffer a tiny little stroke at that very moment. It took every fiber of my being not to thrash that woman to the floor and throw her out of my gym. 

Weird Hippy Girl explained that she is an accountant (well, good for her!) and that when you work with numbers you never manipulate them to say what you want them to say. She accused me of doing that at her weigh in. She said that I soon as I surmised that she was not happy with her results, I twisted my approach and asked her if she felt better or was sleeping better since joining the gym. 

She said I tried to manipulate her into a sale and that was underhanded.

Sigh.

I smiled my brightest smile and explained that fitness is not just about losing inches, it's about total body health.  A person who eats well and works out will experience many wonderful results. Health is a puzzle with many pieces. I explained that a woman who has a sedentary job (such as hers) limited social life (again, hers), who is dealing with high stress (bingo!) and a lousy diet usually doesn't sleep well, suffers from depression, and has an entire list of health problems.

When that woman begins to exercise and eat better, something amazing happens! She loses weight. She feels better physically, she's happier - thanks to all those endorphins, she sleeps better and she is more apt to have an uplifting and positive social life. All this from 30-minutes of exercise, three times per week. 

I sat back in my chair and noted that I had gotten through to Weird Hippy Girl. She noted that I had a strong argument and that we (myself and my co-workers) had all been very kind to her, but she still wasn't joining.

And I cried bitter, bitter tears and begged her to join....

Not really. 

Weird Hippy Girl has two days left at our little gym. With any luck, I'll never see her again. 

It almost makes me feel sorry for the folks down the street at the other gym.

Okay, not really....

I told my manager that I either deserve an Academy Award or combat pay.

I'd like to thank the Academy for this lovely, lovely award. I wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for my dahling children, my amazing husband, and my teammates at Curves. Thank you! You like me! You really like me!

Snicker

Idiot Hippy Girl Alert

Not a very nice title, I know. Sorry about that.

You see, I met an idiot several weeks ago. She offended me right out of the gate. I found her rude, obnoxious, and just plain weird. Like old hippy weird. As in she was at Berkley during the 60's. I think there is a lingering chance of past drug use. Just sayin'.

The weird thing is, I am nice to pretty much everybody. I am. I'm not the kind to be nasty to a person for no reason. In fact, I'll seldom be nasty to anyone because I don't like the conflict. It takes a lot to really get under my skin. Sadly, this woman has my number and I keep letting her dial it.

Essh!

My boss (hi Kristen!) told me it was obvious that I don't like Idiot Hippy Girl. I didn't deny it.

I've been nice to Karma Girl - remember Karma Girl? I keep a respectful distance, say hello and good bye, and don't flinch when she feels the need to put her arm around me (gag!). And I will continue to spread peace and harmony with the more difficult members of our little gym.

But Idiot Hippy Girl? Yeah, she could get me fired.

Fired because she's cruel and judgmental and vicious and just plain stoopid. Fired because I just want to tell her I think she's an idiot and weird. Fired because my body language says all that and more.

I told boss (hi Kristen!) that she could fire me, but I'm not going to like Idiot Hippy Girl.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

I'll answer all her dumb questions and trust me, when she works out on my shift...she's gonna work...

Fired!

I'll do my best to keep her from chewing on my trainees. It's a favorite game of hers, to ask a newbie why this is this way or that and then argue the point. As one of my trainee's said, "Every time she's in here we look like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb!" And this trainee is brilliant and so good at her job. So good in fact that she was offered another job and took it and left me!

Traitor...

Someone told me the best way to deal with Idiot Hippy Girl is to not let her get to me. They reminded me that she is just a bitter, angry, old woman who is spreading hate and misery everywhere she goes.

And I know they are right.

It doesn't change how strongly I dislike her or how much I'd like to tell her off. If I do, I mean if it's gonna go down, trust me, I'll say what I've been wanting to say for a month now. And then...

FIRED!

I've never been fired from a job before...Wouldn't it stink to start now?

Maybe...

Laughter IS the Best Medicine

Sometimes...sometimes I just can't help myself. If something is funny, regardless of what or who is involved, I'm going to laugh.

Be warned

There is this lady at the gym who is a little intimidating. Okay, she's a lot intimidating! Seriously. She's uber tall with filthy mouth and a penetrating stare that will make you want to duck and cover. Tis true and I'm not the only employee whose noticed it.

It took months for her to be civil to me.

Over the last few months I've noticed that she's a bit more friendly. Meaning that her icy stare hasn't melted my soul...yet. She usually says hi and goodbye and more often than not, she'll drop the F-bomb just to see what I'll do.

For the record I laugh at her and tell her she's bad. Which she kinda already knows

Last night she was in rare form, and as several of us stood around the desk (yes, I was actually trying to get some work done (Kristen!), she brazenly announced she had to "pee".

Thanks for sharing

She strolled off to the restroom and moments later my co-worker said that while there was a lull in activity she was going to clean the bathroom. I told her that I thought Big and Scary was in the bathroom, but we both noted that door said vacant. It was assumed that Big and Scary had gone around the corner to use the other restroom.

Wait for it

So, co-worker pulls open the door and quickly slams it and announces that she's just walked in on Big and Scary.

She was mortified

Of all the gym members in all the world, she had to walk in on THAT one.

And I laughed

and laughed

and laughed

I couldn't stop. I laughed so hard that other people started laughing. By the time Big and Scary exited the restroom there was a lot of laughter going on. She looked at me in an accusing and soul melting way and all I could do was laugh and gasp out that it wasn't me.

For the first time in a year and a half Big and Scary had nothing to say.

And I laughed harder!

I simply could not help myself and all night, every time I looked at co-worker, I would chuckle some more.

In my defense, I work in a PUBLIC place and one should always remember to LOCK the restroom door when one is going to use the facilities.

I'm just sayin'

You Can Take the Coach Out of the Circuit

But you can't take the circuit out of the coach.

I'm a Circuit Coach at Curves Gym. I love it. I've been happily employed at my little gym for nearly a year and a half. There are various facets of my job, one of which is to help our members by making sure they are using the equipment correctly. You may read that as nagging but it isn't.

If you are going to do something, than do it right!

I've earned the nickname, Bull Dog, from some of our more troublesome lovely ladies.

They like me! They really do!

Imagine my surprise today when I walked into a gym that wasn't MY gym and found it to be the polar opposite. We visited a local gym which was in the area of where I was going to run some errands. I figured I'd kill to birds with one stone and get my workout in.

I have heard from various members that not all Curves are created equal and I have always believed it to be true (mine being the BEST!). It's just that I've never had it proven to me. Until today.

The gym we visited was small. Really, really small, but that was okay. It's circuit training. You really don't need a lot of space. The colors were warm and inviting and we were greeted by the lady at the desk in a friendly manner.

She took an entire fifteen seconds away from her phone call to make sure we knew where to sign in.

?

It was nice that the space was small, or we'd never have found where to put our bags.

??

I noted right away that one of their speakers was blown and emitting a fuzzy, static sound every time the voice in the ceiling said, "Change stations now".

???

The gym was only missing one machine, the dip shrug, which I hate anyway, so that was all good.

Now, I'm not certain if the woman at the desk was the owner or an employee, but she was merrily chatting away on the phone for a full twelve minutes.

During this time I noted that the "change stations now" voice had disappeared.

????

For the next ten minutes, I watch the clock and moved at the appropriate time. I noted that other members started following along as Girl and I moved from machine to recovery board.

?????

Finally the woman at the desk got off the phone and helped a very large woman weigh in.

Once the large woman was on the circuit, the front desk lady (or FDL) woke up and realized that music was TOO SLOW and there was no voice to prompt movement on the circuit.

??????

I was annoyed!

The large woman's name was Erin. She was so friendly and outgoing that I almost felt like I was back at my old gym. Erin was thrilled to be wearing a 3X shirt. I assumed that meant she'd lost some weight, so I asked when she joined Curves and she proudly told me October 14, 2009. Nice!

Meanwhile, the FDL had disappeared back to her desk.

???????

I watched Erin across the gym and noted how she was doing several machines wrong. I wanted to correct her. I wanted to encourage her to do things right, mainly so she wouldn't get hurt and so she'd see even better results.

I glanced at the desk...FDL was busy chatting away again.

????????

Girl and I wrapped up our workout and started stretching as FDL finally got on the circuit.

"About time," I muttered.

FDL came over and asked about our club and if we were doing the current promotion. She was a nice lady, but if she'd been my employee, I would have canned her on the spot.

Bull dog....remember?!

As we left the gym I patted Erin on the shoulder and told her that she was doing a great job and to keep it up.

If I had been her circuit coach, every woman in that gym would have learned that Erin had lost another three pounds. I would have celebrated her awesome results, from a 5X to a 3X in just a few months!

Most importantly I would have made sure she did every machine properly.

Today I was reminded of how great my gym is. I discovered that my desire to see others excel is just as strong as it was in August of 08. Most importantly, I saw what a bad circuit coach looks like.

And I don't ever want to be that!

The Underdog

I have a thing for the underdog.

The defeated.

The victim.

That sad, sorry lot who have been abused or neglected gets me every time. I love to see them win. I adore the idea of them finding that strength they didn't know they had and changing their life.

When they stand tall, shake it off, and start again.

I just love it.

Which is why I bristle at the abuser. Those loud mouth, over-bearing, rude, pain in the neck types. They make me crazy.

We have one such lady (okay, maybe we have a few of these) at the gym. She's a wise-crackin', center of the universe kinda girl. I knew she was going to be a problem the first time she opened her mouth and made me feel small.

I just hate that.

You may remember her. I've written about her before. She's the one who was so shocked that I didn't believe in Karma.

Karma?

Carma?

Did I go to school with her???

Yesterday, this woman was in rare form.

Loud

Angry

She went out of her way to involve everyone in the building in her temper-tantrum. I wasn't on the clock, but I made the effort to calm her down, tell her I would address her issues with management, tried to explain why another gym member acts the way she does.

Loud Mouth was having none of it. She just complained louder and more violently.

Psycho

For my part, I didn't lose my temper, but I was steamed. Really steamed. The poor girl who was on shift was freaked out. My daughter, who was working out, was furious. Several of other ladies were uncomfortable and one even thought that SHE was the problem!

I suppose I should explain that in circuit training there are times when the person in front of you, may move slower than you and other times there will be someone right next to you, waiting for you to move. It happens. It's not the end of the flippin' world.

There are ladies who cannot use certain machines for health reasons. Some of our ladies have MS. Some are going through chemo. Still others are elderly or very obese. And yes, there are some who simply come to socialize. We even have a member who is totally blind.

Be that as it may, the gym is a place for everyone and when I say everyone, I mean ladies of all ages and body types. It is a place to grow stronger and more confident. It's a place that, for me at least, has always been judgement free. Or at least it was until yesterday.

I know I did and said the right things, but I'm left with this nagging urge to beat the snot out that loud mouth, earth worshipping, zen mama.

Which brings me back to Karma.

I really don't know much about it. I believe it has something to do with your actions in this life reflecting on your next life. So, if you are a mean, nasty, foul mouthed, pain in the neck in this life...won't you come back as a slug or something?

I mean, if the universe has that kind of power, shouldn't you mind your P's and Q's? Wouldn't it behoove you to steer clear of adversity, to help the down-trodden, and spread love, joy, and peace around your neighborhood?

I'm just sayin'.

Has it Been a Year Already?

Saturday was my one year anniversary at Curves. I cannot believe how time has flown. Last year I was simply hoping to find a part time job to add some extra pennies to our bank. Remember the price of gas last year? Ouch!

I wasn't looking for friends when I went back into the job market. Yet, I've found them in abundance. I didn't know how sheltered my life had become, now I know better.

Not that I regret my many years at home, homeschooling my babies and baking cookies. It just that I've found new fields and the work is good.

My job isn't perfect, whose is? There are the crabby ladies, the thoughtless ladies, the down right mean ladies, perhaps you've met them too. There are also the sweet, wonderful women, the smart and sassy women, and the women who have overcome great odds who inspire me every. single. day.

I can't speak for every Curves, but I know my gym is an amazing place with beautiful women (in all shapes, sizes and ages) who have built a community of support. They rock my world and I'm thrilled to be a part of it.

Yet, it's not just the members who have made my place of employment so amazing.

The owners (big wave: Hi Kristen!!) are great. I couldn't ask for better managers who are thoughtful and understanding. They have put together a terrific team and are the core of our little group.

The manager is the best manager I have EVER worked for. She's got my back and that's nice to know. She's also so tactful (something I sometimes lack) and caring. I've seen her take a bad situation and turn it into something positive and motivating. I guess that's why she's the manager.

My fellow employees are equally amazing. From the sarcastic and snarky to the downright sweet, they are a joy to work. Everyone has their strengths and everyone works together to make our gym the very best.

Just ask anyone, they'll tell you, we are the best.

So, thanks Kristen and Barbara for taking a chance on a mommy who stayed home for seventeen years. Thanks Mel, Linda, Felicia, Julia and Theresa for making our team so wonderful.

And a huge thanks to the amazing members of Curves gym. You have enriched my life and inspired my health journey.

I've been a tad on the busy side. Forgive my lack of posting. Our big family BBQ is in thirteen days and we are still working on the yard. I don't think it will be finished in time, but that's okay. It's just family after all.

Here is the retaining wall Beloved and I built on Sunday. I'm so pleased with it. Now we just need to finish shaping the dirt above it, weed it, and plant some of the wonderful plants a friend from work gave me.


I've also been spending some time with sickies in my house. Here's one, although she is looking pretty good here. Maybe it's because she's no longer running a temperature and we got to spend some time with Boy over the weekend.



Boy got a haircut which tamed his wild locks. I think it looks pretty good. I commented on how the sun has bleached his hair. It happens every year.



He told me things about his plans for the coming year, all about adventure and being a Jesus Freak. Ahh, to be young again.



Boy took us to a hamburger place he'd discovered. They were out of Pepsi, much to Girls dismay. They were also out of straws and wouldn't give us any from the bar because, "They were two expensive."

Ooookkaayy....

Boy was tempted to offer her a nickle for a straw, but decided against it.

Tomorrow I'm back to getting up at 3:45 to open the club by 5:00. Two more weeks of this and then it's back to normal. The Giver and family will be home next Saturday, which means Saturday night I'll be sleeping in my own bed.

Glory be!

And in case you are wondering, it is 100 degrees outside. RIGHT NOW.

Oh, I almost forgot, I received a call from Biological Mom and she let me talk to the wee girls! She asked if we'd like to have them for a day. Now, I just have to find a day when Beloved and I aren't working or otherwise committed elsewhere.

That may be impossible.

And the Beat Goes On

Girl is leaving tomorrow for a few fun filled days with her adopted grandma and auntie. She'll frolic in the sand, watch movies, sleep in, and in general she'll have a darn good time.

I, on the other hand, will attempt to get this house company ready, inside and out. The Singer will be arriving via PDX on Sunday and I'm no where ready for company. No where near. Boy brought most of his stuff home, which is now jammed into his room. The room where Girl will be sleeping...maybe...it depends on whether I find a home for his two amps, two HUGE bags of clothes, a sword, boxes of books, and an ancient typewriter.

I also have to make a daily appearance at my place of employment.

Drat.

There are not enough hours in my day!

Butcher, Baker, Candle Stick Maker

I watched my Girl get ready and leave for work today. She does yard work for the persnickety sweet old lady who lives up the hill from us. Mrs. Fastidious owned a plant nursery for many years and she knows a thing or two about plants. She is very happy to impart her wisdom to her young Padawan. Unfortunately, her young pupil is less than thrilled with her vocation. Girl wants a new job. Any job, as long as it doesn’t involve plants, weeding, dead-heading, or repotting.

Watching her sour face as she left the house reminded me of my past and the jobs I have held. I’ve been a receptionist, data entry operator, worked in tech support for a local hospital, a general typist, head of the legal department for a major retailer, a deli clerk, a writer (yes, I actually got paid), a customer service rep, a foster parent, and currently, a Circuit Coach at Curves. Some of these positions I held for a very short time, say one month (the deli and tech support). While others I held for years.

I’ve banked enough points that I’ll actually get social security. Which I’m sure my children will appreciate considering I’ll probably be living with one of them. Okay, it won’t be with Girl. She informed me, quiet briskly when she was four that, and I quote, “You ain’t livin’ wiff me!” unquote.

Sorry Girl. I know you hate it when I tell that story, but it’s funny!

Wouldn’t it be great if we could have our dream job? I mean, seriously, a job that you like and love? You know what I mean…$$$$$$

Random Jobs I Wouldn’t Mind Having:

A New York Times best selling author - You knew this would be first. I mean, if James Fry can get a book contract, get on Oprah, and publish a second book of dribble with NO punctuation or attention to grammar, why can’t I? I’d be hysterical at book signings. I’m a people person! And I could totally handle fame. Totally.

Except maybe the tabloids, because you know they’d find my mother. You also know she’d spill the beans about my childhood and the time I stole candy from the little grocery store down the street. She’d also tell them about the time I nearly killed the GC with a tap shoe. More than likely, my mother would sue me for all the mental abuse I’ve caused her over the years.

The tabloids would also find my sis-in-law who would be more than happy to sell them the pictures of a drunken Annie from years ago. Thank God I kept my clothes on! I really wish I could get those pictures back…And no, I didn’t inhale.

Pastry Chef - I would make an amazing pastry chef and I’m a hat girl. You know it’s true. I’d totally rock a toque. I would make the perfect moody chef. After all, I’m heading into pre-menopause and it doesn’t get much more fun than that. Imagine, if you will, the crowded five star restaurant when Nicolas Sarkozy (accompanied by his amazingly beautiful, young, wife), stroll in and demand a table. Of course they would be seated right away! They would insist on a special dessert and I would refuse simply because I do not like the color of his tie.

Not to mention, being a pastry chef would be alarmingly bad for my waistline. The summer of cake is already giving me a run for my money. I cannot imagine what would happen if I was surrounded by sweets day in and day out. They say (although I have no idea who they are) that you grow weary of goodies, but I’m not so sure.

A Librarian - I love me some books. I really do. But…it’s so quiet in the library and you have to work with all those children…

An Archeologist - Years ago, my mother wouldn’t let me attend the only college who offered me a drama scholarship because she had an astrology chart read for me and the witch lady (and I use the term very, very loosely) told her my future was not on stage. We argued and I confessed that I either wanted to be a writer, a lawyer, or an archeologist, she was stunned. An archeologist?

I have a passion for history and the thought of discovering some cool ancient city or people group has always intrigued me. Unfortunately, most of those types of digs take place in hot, dry, sandy, scary, locations. That, and I’d never get Beloved on a plane.

Ice Cream Taste Tester - you KNOW they exist! Why else would they have those tiny spoons?

Blogging - Okay, I know that there are a handful of bloggers who get PAID to blog, but who pays them? Seriously, some of these folks have hundreds of followers? A nice gig if you can get it.

Personal Assistant - I would only want this job if I worked for a friend. You know, someone who I like and I can tell them straight out if they are getting a little too big for their britches. I would make them coffee, pick up their dry cleaning, make their travel arrangements, and act as a body guard when their mother called.

“I’m so sorry Carol, but Mrs. Pulitzer Prize can’t see you just now. She’s having a massage. Can I take a message?”

I would make a great personal assistant. Just keep that in mind, those of you who may one day be rich and famous. I knew you when…and I have enough dirt on you to tattle to the National Enquirer. I’m just sayin’…

I’ve held jobs that I hated and ones I cried over when I left. There were times when I was home with the babies that I’d have given my left hand for a job, any job (but then I’d never have beaten Zelda!). So, when I note the sad doe eyes of girl, I cannot help but hope she, eventually, finds a vocation that she likes and loves.

She could be anything! Butcher, baker, candle stick maker? Well, maybe not the candle stick maker…

Madam President?

Wait! What’s the number for People Magazine?

Mr. Deville, I’m ready for my close up…

Tea Time

With the passing of Washcinda, we've been forced back to that red light district known as the laundry mat. We made the earth shaking decision to only wash our clothes there and then bring them home to hang on the line. Beloved said that he didn't mind the rough, scratchiness of clothes dried on the line. He said it reminded him of his childhood. I admit that little comment made me grin. It means that in some small way, I remind of him of his mother. Okay, maybe not, maybe he's just a man who remembers scratchy clothes. Think what you may, I've decided to take it personally and accept it as a compliment.

Before we paid a visit to the laundry mat washing machines, I had to work at the gym. I don't really mind working an occasional Saturday, Girl sleeps most of the day anyway and I'm usually home around two in the afternoon. Today, however, was tea day.

Our gym is involved with the Relay for Life. It's an on going tradition and this year they decided to hold a fund raising tea to raise funds for their team. The master mind and tea planners went all out. It was beautiful. The labor these two ladies put into this event was nothing short of delightful.

Thus, I was reminded again of how wonderful my fellow employees are. Gracious, kind, creative, and darn good cooks to boot. I'm honoured to call them friends.

And the thing that struck me the most were the faces of those who joined us for tea. Old members, new members, children, friends; all gathered to sip tea and converse in the relaxed atmosphere of the gym.

An unusual site, certainly, but in many ways THIS is exactly what Curves is; a community of women.

Encouraging

Uplifting

Judgement free

Accepting

I wore my hat, the one I love. It's the hat I wear as soon as the sun makes his appearance in the sky. It has a wide brim and sits low on my forehead. It allows me to observe without being observed.

They sat, chatting, and sipping tea, surrounded by flowers and beauty that is seldom seen in a gym. I noted the American Indian sitting at a small table with a devout lady of faith. Their laughed tickled my ears.

A little girl darted through the crowd, squealing.

Another stole through the room shooting pictures with her Nana's camera.

The little woman, the one who reminds me of a very small, thin hobbit patted my arm and thanked me. I felt guilty, after all, I'd helped with some of the set up and donated the use of my 26 tea cups (yes, 26), but really didn't do much. The hobbit lady shared her delight and then winked and said, "It's our first ANNUAL tea!"

I suppose that means there will be more tea parties at the gym.

What a smashing idea.