Up the Creek with the Rogue Trainer

Today I am grateful for a drawn out, unpleasant  encounter with a hotshot trainer I attempted to hire recently.  He did a spectacular job of constellating  both poles of my father material.

On one hand there was this cordial, organized, even warm seeming guy who answered my query on the computer off his webpage about his services.  He arranged a meeting between us  in a friendly and prompt manner.

On the other hand, I got a disdainful, righteous, ranting and raving tyrant who accused me of committing gross felonies of disrespect against his person.  Not only was this part offended by remarks  I made that were taken out of context, it was in full harangue defense mode against future improprieties sure to be committed by me against him.  I was already up shit creek, and we hadn’t even started.

I just didn’t expect what happened when I met him because of his experience and credentials,  so I ignored my instincts.   About halfway through that initial meeting he told me he didn’t need any new clients.  I found that a  real turn off along with him saying he didn’t want to train anyone who would waste his time and wasn’t committed. Yet   he didn’t say no, leaving it to me to have to get over the idea that being his client would work for me.

Even more confusing, he asked me for a hug at the end of my tour of his training facilities.  Taken off guard again, I didn’t refuse, but my hug was robotic.

Being a  “crumbs of love” wounded daughter, this played right into me wanting to get his attention and win his approval.  Then he sent me three forms.  One was about medical information, another was  explaining his policies. The  third form was about  a lot of other personal questions  related to health and fitness.

I took the time to fill out the forms several times, save them and send them back. This took me a while because I have never learned how to “attach” stuff to emails and my computer has some sort of faulty plug in which prevents it from letting me attach. I finally had to use a friends’ computer, completely redo them, attach and send.

I got two more  waves of response by email. The first asked me to  clarify  a couple of answers on the forms, and the second picked me and those answers apart. I had several  paragraphs in red of  vitriolic lectures raining down on my cretinous self. I was made to feel that my answers were  questionable, my remarks about his rate of charge wildly  provocative. I did not object to his rates, but he treated me as if I had.

When I got the second response, I recognized the implacable tyrant, and I sent him an email telling him we should not continue.    His  final email was a classic bait and switch, starting with his saying he accepted and respected my choice.  He said he was only, after all, trying to be true to himself.  He may be a big shot trainer, but he’ s a blind hot mess with his own constellation and it’s now none of my business. I was never his problem, now he’s not mine and I’m free.

I’m grateful I can say no this time  to being his whipping girl, a role I know only too well. I have  always hated it, but it’s a very  familiar role. The whipping girl stays and takes her punishment because forces beyond her control insist she deserves it and there is  nothing else. It’s a survival pattern our  culture prescribes for anyone considered “weak”, and my family believed I was and trained me accordingly.




About Shirley

I started this blog to expand and explore my rhythm horizons as a hand drummer. That exploration includes touching on the rest of my life and inner world as authentically and truthfully as possible.
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