“Coach”
“Oh Michelle (Amazon-Lady),” said Coach yesterday (Monday, April 21, 2008) at the Canandaigua YMCA; “I just love your nail-polish.”
“It’s called ‘elephantistic pink.’”
I’ve blogged about “Amazon-Lady” before, but not “Coach.”
Both are YMCA employees, but Amazon-Lady, though a nice person, is the farthest thing from feminine allure.
She can also snap at people, or bite off their heads. She also is extremely muscle-bound, her laugh is very macho, and her face seems to be twisted into a permanent sneer.
I’ve interacted with Amazon-Lady a little, but generally don’t. She’s a nice person, but can be nasty.
“Coach” I haven’t said anything about.
She’s in her 30s, or maybe even 40s, and more attractive.
But she’s obviously dyeing her rigidly coiffed blond hair, and is also muscle-bound, although a little plump — but not much.
She has brown roots.
Well okay; all that could be accepted if she weren’t overbearing and strident.
She also is the one people get assigned to if they need coaching; which is why I call her “Coach.”
But I couldn’t accept someone bellowing and shrieking at me.
“You can do it. Nine-eight-seven-six........”
Coach was once yelling at some stressed-out female teenybopper on the treadmill next to me.
“Now, ramp it up!” she shouted. “Nine-eight-seven-six........ Okay, chest up. Keep pumping, girl!”
UGH! If anyone ever did that to me, I’d tell them to get stuffed.
The lady who had the stroke is apparently using her as a rehab coach.
“I have to rest up,” she says. “She’s tough.”
Years ago when I was running and driving bus I used to take home this wiry little gentleman who was the father of the kid that was winning many of the local footraces.
As such, we’d always shoot the breeze about what races I had run.
One night I mentioned a recent race, a race his son had won, was horrible: cold and windy and rainy — that the weather had slowed my time.
“Well, everyone had the same conditions,” he snapped.
“Sure Coach,” I thought to myself as he stepped off.
“It’s called ‘elephantistic pink.’”
I’ve blogged about “Amazon-Lady” before, but not “Coach.”
Both are YMCA employees, but Amazon-Lady, though a nice person, is the farthest thing from feminine allure.
She can also snap at people, or bite off their heads. She also is extremely muscle-bound, her laugh is very macho, and her face seems to be twisted into a permanent sneer.
I’ve interacted with Amazon-Lady a little, but generally don’t. She’s a nice person, but can be nasty.
“Coach” I haven’t said anything about.
She’s in her 30s, or maybe even 40s, and more attractive.
But she’s obviously dyeing her rigidly coiffed blond hair, and is also muscle-bound, although a little plump — but not much.
She has brown roots.
Well okay; all that could be accepted if she weren’t overbearing and strident.
She also is the one people get assigned to if they need coaching; which is why I call her “Coach.”
But I couldn’t accept someone bellowing and shrieking at me.
“You can do it. Nine-eight-seven-six........”
Coach was once yelling at some stressed-out female teenybopper on the treadmill next to me.
“Now, ramp it up!” she shouted. “Nine-eight-seven-six........ Okay, chest up. Keep pumping, girl!”
UGH! If anyone ever did that to me, I’d tell them to get stuffed.
The lady who had the stroke is apparently using her as a rehab coach.
“I have to rest up,” she says. “She’s tough.”
Years ago when I was running and driving bus I used to take home this wiry little gentleman who was the father of the kid that was winning many of the local footraces.
As such, we’d always shoot the breeze about what races I had run.
One night I mentioned a recent race, a race his son had won, was horrible: cold and windy and rainy — that the weather had slowed my time.
“Well, everyone had the same conditions,” he snapped.
“Sure Coach,” I thought to myself as he stepped off.
“You oughta see my toes,” Michelle said.
“Yes Michelle,” said Coach. “We all know you have the cutest feet in all of New York State.
“—Don’t laugh,” I thought to myself.
posted by BobbaLew at 6:00 AM
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