Working at Dora Dee’s Figure Salon for women, is pure hell.
The little Texas spitfire that the place has been named after has a folksy way of telling you what to do.
The problem I have is that I cannot understand a goddamned word of it.
The problem I have is that I cannot understand a goddamned word of it.
Dora speaks, looks at me and can’t seem to figure out why I’m not moving. She’ll then clap her hands and shout “Feet on a Jackrabbit.” I begin to understand that this means “Don’t just stand there, move!”
Where I am supposed to move is another thing that I am confused about.
Rachel, who works at the front desk, explains to me how things work around here. My job consists of several duties that I need to check off on the daily chart. These I will rotate for the next 8 hours.
My first job of the day is to start on the floor. I am supposed to be helping women understand what they are doing and teach them the proper form for lifting weights.
There are a couple 2-5 pound weights. These are the heaviest weights the gym has. They can usually be found propping up the bookcase overflowing with old dusty issues of The National Enquire and People Magazine.
I suck in my breath as I approach two women. They are both in their late sixties. One of them wearing a long sleeve black turtle neck and full black tights. The other woman is wearing the exact same outfit except she is wearing the turtleneck version of the leotard.
The first woman looks up at me and says “Meow.” The woman with the turtleneck crosses her arms to cover her bosoms. “Good Morning, Do you ladies need any help with anything?” I say pushing on. “Anything?” purrs Catwoman rolling into a reclining position.
Turtleneck keeps repeating “Were fine thank you,” without once ever looking into my eyes.
I smile and walk away. Catwoman purrs “Shake it, don’t break it,” she says loud enough for me to hear then breaks into laughter.
There is not a lot of equipment in the club.There are 2 body rollers, a pull down and a leg machine that just opens and closes.
The body rollers are these large tables with spinning rollers that roar to life when their switch is turned on. The theory is that if you lay on the roller the fat will be pushed out.
I offer magazines and to dump the ashtrays to the women on the rollers. That’s another job I find I have. Dumping the ashtrays that line the work out floor and the club. This is supposed to be done while walking around.
My boss and the 2nd in command is Sharon. According to Dora, “Sharon had the big balls to hire me,” even though I am all “Catty Whompus.” Dora never says this to me but I hear her through the wall of the men’s room.
The men’s room is nothing more than a broom closet with a piece of paper that’s says “Men’s” taped to the door. It is also located directly outside of Dora’s office. The smell of Dora’s Aqua Net hair spray penetrates the Men’s room and I am always in a giddy state when I change my clothes.
Sharon explains to Dora that “The world is changing,” and that they need to make this club co-ed or they will have to close the doors for good.
“Hell rules the day this place gets pole axed” shouts Dora at the top of her lungs and then slaps her hand on the desk for emphasis.
Sharon is an expert at the rolling machines. We are supposed to get her anytime a new member wants a rolling.
To be continued……….
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
Geoffrey Doig-Marx holds all written and electronic rights to his writing "A Day in the Life". It can not be reprinted in part or whole without his written consent.
No comments:
Post a Comment