That’s how a girl in my yoga class described us yesterday. Josh (look what happens when you wear a name tag!) was working the front desk and while scanning my card, he was talking to Loc and said, “I don’t care. It’s not my job. If they want the lights off, they can do it they damn selves.” Nice grammar, by the way.
He was, of course, talking about our yoga class. We have the lights off in the studio during class. Unfortunately, the switches controlling the lights in the studio are in the janitor’s closet in the men’s locker room. I would gladly shut off the lights before class, since I have no problem turning off the fans left on by the step class before us and the speakers that play whatever music the club is broadcasting, if they’re on. However, I don’t think I can just waltz into the men’s locker room and fuck around in the janitor’s closet. And quite frankly, based on plenty of the dudes who I see fully clothed there, I don’t think I’d want to risk seeing the vast majority of them naked.
So, I told my classmate what Josh had said and we talked for a bit about why the fuck it is that everyone seems to hate us. Contrary to Josh’s belief, I think turning the lights off probably is part of his job. Moreover, we aren’t bothering anyone. We’re quiet, unlike the assholes playing racquetball or the martial arts students, both adults and kids. We’re not running loose all over the club like the seemingly parent-less kids who take martial arts.
Okay, some of the people in class get a little overzealous about getting in to stake out a spot on the floor before the step class people have gotten all of their equipment off the floor. However, I don’t understand why the instructor for that class always yells at me for it. Is it because I’m Lavender Girl? Um, I’m not the boss of them. Also, maybe they wouldn’t be so antsy if you would finish your class on time.
The rudeness when I was coming in to the club wasn’t the end of it last night, either. During Savasana, there were a couple of guys in the little hall between the studio and the racquetball court and martial arts room talking. They were talking quietly, but not fucking quietly enough. I was about as far away from them as the room allowed and I still heard all the “And I talked to the office people and they go …” bullshit this fucker was talking about and it was making me insane. Color me absolutely fucking stunned to see them walking out after we were done with their racquetball gear hanging off their shoulders. And the moment we started clearing up our mats, those fucking martial arts kids ran screaming all over the floor. God help me, I so fucking wanted to knock them all down.
When I left the gym I was so angry and frustrated I wanted to cry. Usually, I'm able to let that shit roll off my back over the course of a class, or I'm so calmed and centered by the end of a class that assholes being assholes during Savasana don't bother me all that much. But for whatever reason, I wasn't able to do that last night and I was so disappointed in myslef for my failure.
I pay dues just like everyone else there. I don’t only take yoga. I use the weights and cardio equipment, too. I’m there several days a week. I’ve been a member for 12 fucking years and I’m tired of the yoga class getting screwed and the other people at the gym being completely fucking inconsiderate to us.
You’d better believe I’m taking a copy of this with me tonight to give to Mike, the club manager. I’m not so much of an asshole that I’ll post his last name here, but I sure as hell considered it. I suppose I should remove all of the obscenities from the version he gets, too.