I'm Through: Nickhoalle Edition

I'm through.

I know I've said it before.

And each time I came back for more.

But this time I'm really through.

Nickhoalle is no longer a part of my life.

So I'm sitting there, getting everything ready for the week. Sending out emails to Nickhoalle and Alvin about our training sessions and my availability for the next few days.

Now, I've got a *lot* of stuff going on this week. Modeling all morning and day, all week long for a summer workshop at Fancy New Art School.edu.

In the evenings, rehearsals, more modeling at Art School for Talentless Rich Kids and teaching the group gym classes.

And finally, on Friday is the weekend retreat to a place called "Draco's Egg" with the cast of the play. The idea is that, when people aren't drunk or high or talking about how much they love Obama, we'll knock out all the major scenes for the show and not have to rehearse so much in the coming weeks.

Yes, things are packed pretty solid this week.

I looked at my schedule and, sorry, Nickhoalle, but I can only fit you in two times. I'm swamped.

Email sent.

Nickhoalle, who missed a session and never called to tell me she wasn't dead, and who suddenly skipped town for a week-long business meeting, emails and calls back.

"You WILL give me three days this week and you WILL give me a better selection of times to work out. You work for ME!"

Readers who have been following my many misadventures will remember Consuela back at Eventual Practical Financial Services.

Consuela and I butted heads a number of times. There were a bunch of "I'm quitting TODAY" moments where I made sure I had all personal affects in my messenger bag as I left the office for the day.

But I was also seeing a therapist named Eddie at the time.

"Fork, is quitting your job because you have a conflict the *mature, adult* thing to do?"

"............."

"Fork...?"

"Nooo. It's not."

For a while now, I've been struggling with how to deal with Nickhoalle, worried that she was another Consuela. That I needed to be mature and just push through this. I mean, sometimes you hate your job. Sometimes you have to work with people who don't like you.

But you know what guys? Today helped me see that maybe this *wasn't* actually a Consuela situation where I was being an indignant child.

After all, being told that I'm Satan, asked if I hate my life, that I'm not as big as her *other* personal trainers back in Dallas, that my hair is ugly, that the exercises I give her are all stupid (and please know, 42nd Floorers, I stay up the night before our sessions working on routines that I hope this woman will like), that I'm trying to make her look like an idiot, being told I don't know what I'm doing, that exercises I give her don't work, that she won't won't WON'T do a warm-up or stretch beforehand, that I'm wasting her time and money, and threatening to take her business elsewhere if I don't give her exactly what she wants...

Having her call me a liar (from her email: "I understand you being busy, we all are, but I don't feel like you're fitting me in.") and demand that I give her more days and options made me realize something.

Life is too short to hate waking up in the morning because you know that, at some point in the day, you have to deal with an extraordinarily hateful hag from heck.

ESPECIALLY if you still haven't been paid for a *single session* of training you've done.

That's right, folks. Vinnie, the gym owner, has been on vacation and the manager Chris fed me some line about not being able to get on the pay schedule until Vinnie gets back from wherever the crap he is.

No, this isn't Consuela all over again. This is something different.

But you know, maybe right now is the wrong time to be a trainer. After all, with my schedule the way it is, I can't consistently meet with clients the same time every day. Sometimes I simply have weeks like the one coming up. And there's nothing I can do.

It'll be another thing when I finally move to Cackalackee and don't *have* to be at auditions or modeling gigs. But that's not how things are right now.

So I emailed Nickhoalle and told her I'd be talking to the gym manager about finding her a trainer who would be able to work with her schedule and...specific tastes in working out.

So that's it. It's over.

And...

...Man.

I'm...

...I'm SO HAPPY.

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