Thursday, April 18, 2013

 La Telenovella: As the fancy gym turns

These are some photos that Mariella sent me from that night at the Casina Rossa disco.

Since then the soap opera at the fancy gym has reached epic proportions. My one real friend inside the joint named Nicolas has dato mi buca/stood me up about five times in the most theatrical ways possible, including forgetting to call me, calling me collect, and coming up with times and places that are impossible and implausible. He has continued to insinuate that I am the subject of much jealousy and gossip and that I need to watch my back.

My paranoia reached new levels when my colleagues started to post charts and have conversations that have to do with a Fit Fiesta and a Fruit Party. I don't understand the role fruit plays, but it is a large one. I have asked everyone I can to explain to me what is about to happen, but the substitute swim teacher said to ask the other swim teacher and the other swim teacher was too busy and my boss was spotted for three seconds in which he asked me my shoe size and when I responded he cursed under his breath and marched off. You get the idea.

Half the people who I wanted to ask were not around because they all went to a fitness fair in Germany. I had no idea they were going or for how long. Here are some photos of these mysterious people on this mysterious trip:

How nice. How does one get invited to go on these trips? I will never know.
This scene went down where my colleague Claudia and I were commiserating about the lack of communication and our sense of not really fitting in when Alessandra walked in. Claudia asked her about the Fit Fiesta and she starting speaking at the speed of light. I was so lost and frustrated that I just asked Claudia, who speaks English, if she could fill me in the next day. I stormed off and Alessandra gave me a mean look. I later apologized to Alessandra who was sweet as pie about the whole thing. She smiles at me all the time. It is a horrible the wolf about to eat red riding hood kind of smile so I don't know what to make of her. But she has never said one bad word to me. In fact, she pretty much avoids speaking to me, but there is a lot of finding ourselves in the same room at the same time and wishing we weren't and smiling. My smile probably looks pretty fake to her, too, come to think of it. I feel like we could become friends, but it may take some alcohol to get things started.

Finally I had a little success with Nadia. She is often standing with the reservations book for the spa at the front desk with flawless hair and makeup. I don't know her whole job description, but it is something beauty related. She told me that each fitness instructor has three symbols that characterize their course. Mine are Shape, something, and Fun. That means I am, let's say, an orange square, a green triangle, and a something. Every client at the fancy gym is given a questionnaire and they are put into one of the six categories so that they know which courses match them best. For six weeks the gym will highlight each category and some instructors will tailor their classes or make up new classes to highlight that week's theme. I have no idea if I am even going to be involved, and, if so, will I be shoeless? Then in June everyone in Lucca shows up for a party we host that involves fruit salad and drinking. The instructors perform in a show. For all I know, my colleagues are all rehearsing already without me and I will be pushed on a stage four seconds beforehand, not knowing any of the steps. Then I wake up all sweaty. What a nightmare.

In order to make up for my outsiderness with the staff, I started working on my Facebook everday. I put up my own videos and Tracy Anderson's. I put up drink recipes and charts of all the celebrities that are using this method. I have about 50 new friends on Facebook from the gym and it has been great. I even convinced the publicity lady to put up an official invitation on the fancy gym's Facebook to befriend me. It is like Glee in that my little club is filled with the misfit rebels who support the strange foreign lady whose colleagues avoid her and who has been saying anca when she meant fianco and tacco when she meant tallone for months at a time.

This morning I couldn't stand it any more so I texted my boss. He said all would be explained Monday at the staff meeting. What staff meeting? When? At 21,00. Where? The location will be disclosed at a later date. Sigh . . .

My boss. He is so secretive that I think he may be method acting for a role as the next James Bond.

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