Good morning! Is this Mrs. Aarons?
That depends. If you’re calling because I won a new car, then “yes,” this is Mrs. Aarons. If you’re calling because you need volunteers for the PTO bake sale, then “no” this definitely isn’t Mrs. Aarons.
I’m calling from your gym.
In that case, this is Ikea, her Swedish nanny. Mrs. Aarons no home right now. She go bye-bye.
Mrs. Aarons, I wanted to talk to you today because we’ve noticed you haven’t come in to work-out lately.
You’ve noticed that? Really?
Yes, ma’am. And we miss you.
Oh, well, thanks. But I’m sure it won’t be long before you replace me with another middle-aged woman who runs a 17-minute mile and loudly sobs on the leg press machine. It’s the suburbs; we premenopausal chunks are a dime a dozen.
Our computer shows me that you have been here for at least two months.
Uh-huh. Tell me—is there anything that’s preventing you from working out?
You mean besides this iron lung machine? No, not really.
Listen, Mrs. Aarons, I know that it can sometimes be hard to get to the gym. But when you signed up with us, you made a commitment to your health.
Well, it was really more of a commitment to my ass. I promised it I wouldn’t make it wear a Land’s End skirtini anymore. Apparently it’s been feeling a little stifled.
Okay, but if you’ll recall, part of our agreement is that if you don’t stay committed, we need to start giving you encouraging phone calls.
What? I don’t remember that.
I have it right here on your contract. Under “Please give me encouraging phone calls,” you checked “yes.”
Huh. I must have been on shitload of cold medicine that day. Well, can you just change it to “no” for me? So you won’t have to call me anymore?
I sure can. Only—I can’t do it over the phone.
(long pause) So that means…
I’ll see you here tomorrow, Mrs. Aarons. We open at 5 a.m.
Of course you do.
Now before I go, is there anything else I can help you with?
Yeah. Next time remind me not to join a gym that’s smarter than I am.
Based on an actual phone call from my (former) health club.
In other news, due to the many requests I’ve received, I am currently trying to get my mother to part with her secret family recipe for Mindwiper Punch. This may entail me agreeing to go to a horrific “Mamma Mia” sing-a-long with her, so I’ll let you know if it works out. Don’t get your hopes up.
Also, if you’re in Austin, be sure to come by the BlogHer holiday party this Thursday!