A few weeks ago I was checking my email at the front desk and a man walked in. He looked a bit pinched, unpleasant, giving off the aura of either needing to get laid or being constipated. This, I gathered before he said anything. When he DID open his mouth, what drifted out was not exactly poetry and butterflies:
“Is there a man here I can talk to about your business? I want to hire a personal trainer.”
I started to reply, but he held up his hand to cut me off before I could get “you sexist bastard” out of my mouth.
“Now, honey, I’m sure you THINK you know what you’re talking about, and you’re really blond and cute up here at the front desk, and I’m sure they pay you well to sit here and look pretty, but I’d prefer to talk to someone about this who knows a thing or two about training. And I’m in a hurry.” Pity he didn’t have ample time, as I would have asked him to bend over so that I could shove the computer monitor up his ass. It's an Apple so it only would have improved his personality. Yes, I was hostile that day.
Then, like a gift from above, in walked my client who is also a professional athlete. We’ll call him S. S said, “excuse me” as he walked by the man who looked as though he might shit his pants, finding himself in the presence of such athletic prowess.
“Excuse me,” said our charmer, “Are you S? Man, you’re incredible!! It’s an honor to meet you!!” He almost squealed...I think he might have even had an orgasm. S, being the gracious person that he is (and used to having men fling themselves at him in admiration), shook his hand and said “Thanks man! Hey, if you’re planning on working with Jen, watch out. She's made me cry a few times and is harder than any trainer I’ve ever had. Good luck!” And he walked back to the pilates equipment. I could have kissed him.
The man stood there, mouth agape, looking first at S, then at me. “You train HIM?” he asked incredulously. I nodded my head. “Wow. Do you have any openings?” And then, in one of those rare moments of mental dexterity, I shot back with “You know, my dance card is full. That’s what I get for being blond and pretty and not so bright. Men love that.” I wanted to add in THAT, AND ALL OF THE HAND JOBS THAT I GIVE but I have to draw the line somewhere.
And they wonder why I want to install a bar at work. The 1960's called...they want their sexism back...although, it never really left, did it?
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4 comments:
OMG, fricken hilarious. I call total bull...you made that up right? Funny regardless.
Jen, Can I just tell you what a hoot your blog is. You are an amazing writer and I would buy whatever you published! You have me rolling daily and all the talent went to you my dear. Keep up the good work and my lips are sealed! Wuv your sister
you're my hot blonde hero.
Wouldn't an even better revenge been for you to take on the client at twice your normal rate, and then inflict your pain upon the wretch? Maybe set fun goals for your sessions like, "Today he is going to puke." or "I won't be satisfied until he walks with a limp."
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