Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Leggo il mio Ego, parte due 
Well, I got to the gym and I met with my jovial, sweet and savvy man of the hour named Giacomo. I also shook hands with the big boss guy with whom I had exchanged emails. He said he was happy I looked better in person than I did in the photo that I sent which was of me at my most muscular playing tennis a bunch of years ago.  Apparently the perspective of the photo gave him the impression I was an Amazon and he was happier that I come in a smaller package and that he could kick my butt if need be. Within ten minutes of doing my spiel about being a body designer and being on the cutting edge of fitness etc., I had to go to one of the gigantic, glossy classrooms and do a demonstration. It was pretty intimidating to shake a tail feather under those circumstances. I made up some razzle dazzley moves on the spot using some of the available equipment.

I had no idea whether the enigmatic  smile I got back was saying "you are ridiculous" in a complimentary way, or, you are ridiculous period. Back to the office we went for the business conversation where everything got thorny and awkward quickly.  They really are pretty serious about wanting an exclusive contract that you have to sign for a whole year. I got the impression that they pay double what I could make elsewhere, but they choose your hours and they don't make exceptions. I am not going to up and leave the commitments I made with my other gyms because that would not be nice of me and it would also be putting all the eggs I have left (at my age, god knows the number) in one very fancy basket.

In the end, Giacomo said he was going to call my current bosses to discuss the situation with them out of professional courtesy.  So the bottom line is that I am most probably going to get screwed out of professional courtesy. I tried to say, oh really, don't do that. But there was no stopping him.  It is like a big, massive boulder with the word EGO inscribed on it rolling down a really monstrous Tuscan hill. On my way out, the girls at the reception desk made the expression "look down your nose at someone" really come to life. I mean they have that move down to an art form. They literally look down their noses at you. I thought: message received b#@ch, either you lost a contact or your horse is too high for you.

So now my ego knows that the Ego liked me, but I have no idea if anything will come of it. All I know is that I have to have an awkward conversation with my current boss to prepare him for the phone call from Ego. In any case, if Ego gave me eight hours of work on top of the nine hours of work I am already doing I would have to have more time-bending abilities that Hermione Granger, and it is unlikely that they wouldn't choose the same hours that I teach the Guess girls or the Lucca What expat group. I hope they take me up on my suggestion to let me do limited contracts for intensive six week classes several times a year, but other than that . . . So what is a waffle lover to do?

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