I'm not talking about work

On Tuesday, our class was in a bit of a tizzy, thanks to
Winston creeping us all right the fuck out (again) by announcing his intent to come watch the massage practice (you know, where we're all in strict compliance with the No Underwear policy?), and maybe he'd jump in and practice some strokes as well. As he whistled out of the room with our supply of oxygen, there was plenty of jaw clenching and forehead wrinkling, talk of bad vibes and discomfort, and one student threatened to walk out if Winston tried to touch her ("It's a walkout!!!").

(The short version: Winston is the kind of person you run into and within a split-second your hackles are UP, and someone in your brain is screaming "Chester the Molester!")

The problem, however, is that Winston has officially bought the massage school which has not only put him in a position of authority, but also has him busily scuttling around making "improvements." Wednesday's improvement? He wants to change the class schedule to "make it easier on" us. When the possible schedule change was brought to our attention, we pitched our second hissy fit in as many days. Words like "contract" and "hard-earned money" and "I'm not giving up my Sundays" were thrown around. I advised Ms. IEP to let the dude know that change does not = improvement. I'm sure my business savy was appreciated, considering how I've never actually owned one.

Having proven ourselves to be Diva Class 2006, Winston was nowhere to be found yesterday evening, which was a shame since I had some neck rolling and finger snapping for him. With all the tension from the week, the teacher determined that we needed to learn about and realign our chakras last night. After nearly toppling over while standing with my eyes closed, I conceded that my chakras could indeed stand some centering. So we visualized the hell out of some red bands of light and some white bands of light, and I was surprised to find this "woo-woo stuff" (as the teacher calls it) working. The only low moment in the activity was that one of the students couldn't get anything to happen, so she must have felt a little excluded. Then again (and for all I know), maybe she was just having a moment a la the little boy in The Emperor's New Clothes. Joke's on us, perhaps?

[edited to remove work-related commentary. And there was much rejoicing.]

2 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

Oh NO. Sounds like if Chester wants to make some money off of his new investment, he needs to get out of the way and shut up. I hope that aspect of the training gets better. I don't like to be around those kinds of people either. (Reminds me of a boss I had in high school who paid me "miniskirt wages" -- an extra .50 cents an hour if I wore a miniskirt. I lasted two months --and I was one of his longest hires.

11:27 PM  
Anonymous Pickle said...

"Chester the Molestor" is the reason no one should ever name their kid Chester.

I have a character in a 1/3rd baked movie script named Chester.

6:29 PM  

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