The After Life Coach

Chapter 4

A couple hours later, as I'm milling around the conference room, I check my reflection in a window: not a single hair out of place, nails matching my new red dress perfectly, holding an evening clutch with my phone, lipstick and a coat check slip for the bag of other goodies I liberated from Deirdre today, ready to be consigned ASAP. And my butt has never looked better.

That's sort of my side hustle, but it comes in handy for my current actual job—staying in shape has been worth its weight in gold. Or at least in Prada. I still teach spin classes once a week in order to keep my free uber-exclusive gym membership: important for meeting clients but also maintaining my figure. No one wants a fat life coach, everyone wants a slim-but-strong one who can run a sub-4-hour marathon or do a handstand in yoga without needing a wall. Honestly, keeping up the appearance of success is a full-time job. I can't imagine how people do it. (Except, you know, I'm sort of paid to let people know how to do it.)

Whether I'm there shouting out inspirational slogans on the spin bike from the front of the room, assessing the expressions, clothing and grooming of the different people in the class; or I'm doing my circuit on the elliptical and hitting the free weights looking for that combination of "slightly out of shape and clearly new to the gym but wearing all designer athletic-wear," I'm scouting for new clients.

It's a genius spot to pick up new business: Most newcomers to an upscale gym are joining because they're getting out of a breakup or marriage, coming back to the workforce after having kids, switching careers after burning out of their high-paying job or just plain missing something in their lives. But they're paying premium membership fees to deal with their health, so they're almost always open to spending hefty amounts of cash sorting the rest of their lives out with the help of a professional—and a professional who's already ahead of them on the gym/health path and inspiring them in their new spin class... Well, what could make more sense?

Of course, it would be easy for some of the richer clients to turn their noses up at a spin instructor giving life advice, so I always make sure that when I introduce myself at the beginning, I gush about how transformative the spin classes are, and how I could have stopped teaching years ago but it's good for my soul. That usually combats the air of 'I'm too rich to deal with this girl,' and changes the narrative to 'Wow, I love that she's stuck with her passions.'

I give my head a little shake. Back to reality. Focus, Kerry. The brief thought of being home in cozy pajamas sneaks its way into the back of my brain, but I push it down again.

It's time to mingle in the crowd, and there's an art to this too. You can't act like you're looking for business, you need to make people think you could care less about working with them. I grab a glass of champagne from a server's tray and start to walk purposely towards a huddle of people. I hate this part but I know it's the fastest way to make the rest of the evening smooth.

Deep breath, speed walk and...

Bump.

I "accidentally" shoulder a man in the group and do a mini-feint forward, spilling just a splash of champagne on his shoes. I stand up straight, looking mortified. Hand on his shoulder, pivoting him slightly, just enough to step towards him so that I'm officially in the circle of people chatting.

"I am so, so sorry!" I bubble, keeping my hand lightly resting on his shoulder. He's pretty cute, I notice. So that's a plus even if I don't manage to get any business out of it. Though I'm not tacky enough to start handing out my card yet... This is just my strategy for moving into a good-looking group, subtly becoming part of it and then branching off into other groups. I let my face get a little red and look down. "I've ruined your shoes," I moan, stepping even more into the circle of people, nudging my way in.