Wednesday, January 27, 2010

You're a tool, you're a tool ...

You're an unbelievable tool.



Right. So I joined a gym about a week ago. I've been remarkably out of shape since T was born and decided that it was time to start feeling healthy again. Part of the membership is a free assessment/physical training appointment every other month. Yesterday I decided to go and take advantage of this free service.

I knew from the moment Moe introduced himself that this was going to be 45 minutes of my life I'd never get back from the worst kind of Jersey meathead. He walked up to me, said "Hey, I'm Moe," in that irritatingly chirpy voice reserved for caffeinated cheerleaders and those infomercial guys. They he turned around and all but ran back to his office. I followed him as he waved at random people in the gym.

When we got to his office he asked me what my goals were. I explained that I hadn't been a gym member since my older son was born, I didn't feel very healthy and I wanted to get back into my pre-baby clothes and body. He kept pushing me for a specific weight goal, so I finally said, "I'd like to be in [a ten pound range]." "Great!" he said, "so you'd like to be [at the lowest number of the range]. Let me tell you a little about myself!" And he proceeded to spend the next five minutes extolling his virtues. He wasn't a normal physical trainer, you see, he had starred in exercise videos, been featured in [nearby big city] gazette, trained celebrities and written books! And so humble too. The way he gushed, it was apparent I was supposed to count my lucky stars and bask in his reflected glory.

Then he took 25 minutes to explain in excruciating generalities that in order to get to my goal, I needed to lift weights, do cardio and eat right. Thank you Albert Einstein. I guess telling me once wasn't enough, because he continued to repeat the same canned presentation for the entire time. Of course, all during this time he kept checking his watch, glancing over my shoulder to see who else was around and admiring himself in his computer monitor. Finally, he took a breath, looked up at me and asked "Have you ever been [at the goal weight]?" Are you an idiot? Of course, I explained to him, again, that I wanted to get back into my prebaby clothes.

Next he assessed my posture. Essentially, I did a few balance exercises while he looked at my form and shouted "Good, 3 more. Keep on. Let's go!" and other ridiculousness. The whole thing took less than 5 minutes. He took me back to his office and said I should work on my knees. Then he asked if I wanted to sign up for more physical training sessions. Oh, could I? Please? At $85 per session. Pass.

6 comments:

Becky said...

I believe I have a pet rock that might be a suitable intellectual companion for Moe.

jp said...

Ouch, super lame. The gym that Morgan and I used over in Queens did a similar one time session but I think we both had really good session. My trainer srsly kicked my ass for an hour. I nearly passed out.

nana said...

Every trainer I have ever interviewed was much the same, except I get "oh, I can look up fibro". From the gyms that advertise they can help people with health issues. No thanks.

Jenn said...

Yeah, I don't know what it is about physical trainers that makes them so out of touch with reality.

LaLa said...

I think it's that they spend 8 hours a day in a place with mirrored walls. Talk about the perfect environment for lab-created narcissists.

Jenn said...

Oooh, lab-created narcissists. There's a turn of phrase I'll use again!

 
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