Oh Lordy you guys.
Ok, so it’s after class, I’m putting my sneakers on, and Best Girl sez, “hey, how’s the ankle?” and I’m like, “it’s good! Not feeling it in class anymore, not even in the escappés, seems like a good sign! Gonna ask Smirnoff about coming back to pointe class!”
And she’s like, “Good! We need people.”
And I’m like, “Have you been having class lately?”
And she’s all, “No, that’s the thing! It keeps getting cancelled because there aren’t enough people! And I’ve been trying to get him to change to one of the smaller studios so then it will be cheaper to rent and he wouldn’t have to have so many people to cover the cost but he just won’t change. He’s just stubborn! And the small studios are available! I asked! But he won’t change. You ask him. If he says no to you…”
And I’m like, “Ok, well, ok. I really want to come back. I miss it.”
She says, “me too.”
So end of next class, we reverénce, I go up and say that I think I’m ready to come back to pointe, what does he think, may I join the pointe class on Friday?
And he says, “Well, but, My Dear, there is no class.”
And I’m like, “there isn’t?”
And he’s like, “No My Dear, we must cancel class Friday, there are not enough people.”
And I’m like, “oh, but, even if I come too? There’s still not enough?”
And he’s like, “My Dear, we must have five people. To cover the cost, and to have a good class.”
And this is when Best Girl joins in, pointing out that with me added we have four people, and if we used the smaller studio the rental fee is less expensive, so maybe we don’t have to have five people after all. But he says no, the small studio floors are wood on concrete, they were laid for tap, they are no good for pointe. No good! And she says what if the four of us pay $25 instead of $20? That would equal the same, right? And he’s insisting No, it cannot be.
Gentle Reader, at this juncture, I am outtie. I mean, I have seen people try to argue very legitimate things with Smirnoff, stuff like You Should Start Class On Time, stuff like, If You Collect The Money In The Lobby, We Can Start Right Away When We Enter The Classroom. Pointless arguments. I mean, the man is in his seventies, he is never ever going to change the way he collects the money, or the way he starts class with greetings and praise and asking after health and writing attendance and monies, by frikin hand, in his ledger. It’s just not gonna happen.
Anyway, so Smirnoff is insisting that it cannot be, Best Girl is upset, lé assistant jumps in and starts arguing, which is really bad because her arguing style is scarily similar to how Mr. Adult Beginner describes our neighbor’s tiny yappy dog: he barks, and then the bark startles him so he barks louder, and then that loud bark startles him more so he barks even louder, and then it is this ever building chain of barkBarkBarkBARKARKARKARKBAKAKABARKABARK!!!!
Smirnoff is repeating his (pretty darn legitimate) complaint that the other floor is bad, and that he doesn’t want us paying more unless we really are buying a private class, that one learns better in a class of five, if it’s a class it’s a class, if it’s a private, it must be intentional and cost more;
Best Girl grabs her bag and storms off;
Lé assistant is barking about how those other girls haven’t even been to regular class in weeks and you can’t just take pointe only, this is not some Drive-Thru type situation, (what?) and besides they make so very little money as it is, the studio charges them $40 for rental and there are people in New York who would pay $35 a piece for this type of class (uh, New York, is this true? ‘Cause at $20 a pop Smirnoff’s is the most expensive class I’ve taken, NYC or anywhere);
And I’m just standing there thinking, “Woah, what the fuck just happened?!”
So, uh, yeah. Everybody upset, bad scene, and Did I Call It Or What? Totally knew this would happen! Pointe class would totally fall apart while I was out with this stupid ankle!
Stupid Fair-weather Ballerinas.
Ok, so I drive home, still kinda freaked out, (conflict, oh noes!) and find this in the mailbox.
The first issue of my brand new subscription.
Seriously, universe, why you gotta do me like that?!
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