Day 257: Mature

I wrote Sabrina a polite and mature email telling her that I don't want to get paid and that I'd rather have the opportunity to teach (only a month and a half left, anyway).  Then I told her I would like to lead a routine or two during class, so I can get my routines back in my head.  I wasn't wishy-washy, rude, whiney, or anything... just straight to the point. Yay, me.

I, however, wanted to be rude.  I wanted to tell her that if she had no intention of ever paying me, that she should have said so from the start.  She also should have told me that she's rarely gone and that she loves being the centre of attention and, thus, wouldn't "remember" to let me lead any routines, then I could have actually taken a job where I got to teach, got paid, and got to take classes and use a gym for free.  That would have been a much better deal for me. I wanted to say that it's bullshit that she canceled the Saturday class because no one could open and it's "too much trouble" to teach anyone how and it's extra rude that she canceled Thursday's Zumba class because it would mean she'd have to pay me per our agreement.

If I had the time or location, I would have totally tried to steal your students with my better routines and way better prices.  Seriously, $99 for "unlimited" Zumba classes?!  What a rip off.  Zumba is not supposed to be about you showing off, but about your class gaining confidence and having fun while working out.  The routines need to be catered to the class and your classes are full of older women who shouldn't be doing some of the moves you're doing, not to mention the idiocy of bare feet on a rubber floor.  With all the twisting in Zumba, it's important to have very little friction as to prevent knee, hip, and back injuries... those ideas go out the window with the dojo floor.

Ugh... I'm exasperated. Perhaps she thinks I'm an idiot.  A lot of people think I'm an idiot before they know me.  It's because I'm quiet and pretty.  A pretty face isn't an asset in all aspects of life or in all professions.

On another note, Eisley watched me cook this evening. I put her in her highchair in the middle of the kitchen and gave her Cheerios and measuring cups to play with while I worked. When it was all done, we ate, then chatted with my dad while he ate dinner.  As we were sitting there, I looked over at Eis and she was leaned over, chewing on the tray of the highchair.  I laughed cause she's so strange, though I guess it felt good on her teeth.