aargh

The latent homosexual who hired me has, for reasons only he understands, changed his mind. I'd say he wants me gone because we had our shifts swapped, so now I'm the one doing sweet fuck all on a Monday morning, while he works, actually works! under the watchful eye of Bozo, The Wonderboss, but nah. He was already tepidly indifferent when I started, and has since cultivated quite the passionate dislike for me.

He told me the clients are complaining that they're bored, both at the main gym and the little one where I've run only one, may be two classes a week.

The hell?

I thought they liked my classes? At least, that's what they told me.

Despite working at The World's Crappiest Gym™, I do take what I do quite seriously. I talk to the clients, I mix up their workout, I ask what they want and tailor the classes to their capabilities, bla bla bla work hard bla bla get feedback, blood, sweat and tears bla bla.

I'm also a delicate fucking petal and completely anal retentive. If I can't do what I want to do perfectly, I don't want to do it. And *sniff* it's one thing to be a bad instructor cuz you don't care, but I do care and, wah, is all. :(

Then next week's roster was changed and no one told me. Aa lot of my classes were cut, and there were no clients scheduled for training, and wtf? So I did what any self respecting personal trainer would do. I lost my shit. In less than thirty seconds I dropped the f bomb at least that many times. I used it as a verb, an adjective, a noun and an adverb, which while creative, was not very effective as anyone who mattered had already gone home.

Then I lay awake all night worrying about where I was going wrong. It felt like I'd ony just got to sleep when the phone rang, it was morning, they needed me to fill a class, and Hello! I'm a doormat, so I did it.

Which turned out to be a good thing because, fast forwarding to my grand announcement that I was a leetle bit upset about the change in rosters, to the bit where Kay fixed everything with one wave of her hand as she pished away my concerns. Seems the other boss had fucked up the rosters because he's a moron operating on one brain cell.

First crisis averted.

So then I sobbed about being so sucky and everyone hating me and stuff. Jo chimed in for this one, and it turns out Home Boy is a bitch, no one has complained and in fact, everyone LOVES me. He's pissed because they DO like me. Furthermore, even if they didn't like me, Mr Fancypants had no right to say anything so, pthhhh.

He smells like shit and I don't.

I win!

HA.

The end.