Blue Hour

Dream on

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams - Eleanor Roosevelt

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The next day the buzz in the studio really kicked up. There were six new female members until lunch alone. They were hanging around, visually on the lookout for our Big Boss, the infamous double B. 

He must be lucrative bait, as believe me, you did not want to pay even the basic fee for this studio. It was enough to pay the rent for a decent sized apartment and that was just the start. All of the special treatments, these women were so keen on, were extra.

I had no lectures today and was supporting the back office staff with all the extra arrangements.

"What is taking so long?" I heard a really screechy voice from the front desk torturing Linda, my always way too patient manager. "Get me the manager!"

Glady, talking to our "guests" was not my duty. I relieved ducked my head away over the papers I was working on. I had just started arranging the trainings from the last woman that had signed up only 30minutes ago. 

Sitting on the desk in the back office I was out of sight and still close enough to earsdrop. As loud as this lady was, it wasn't ears-dropping, more unavoidable listening.

"Dear Ms Valdenberg, I am the manager. How may I be of assistance." Linda spoke in her best "calm everyone with a shit load of kindness"-voice.

"Ah, fiiiinally someone to talk to." As if she had been waiting! Linda had been there all along and this new guest had been on the phone the past 5 minutes she had wandered the lobby.

"This service is way to slow! Do you know who I am? I am on the highest social level and used to exceptional service, which this is not. We do not want to wait. Understood?"

How does one manage to sound so menacing without cussing?

"Of course, how may I help you?" Linda was a saint. Her patience was unrivalled.

"Sign me up, of course. Are you a bit slow? For what else would I be here! And my daughter obviously. She is still in school, so I will give you her information." She waved dismissively.

"Surely, I will get right to it. Could you please type in on this Ipad all the information?" she handed her one of our brand new Ipads with an Apple Pencil. Aren't we fancy.

"Can't you just put down the information. Here is my card. God, I am paying you." Ms Valdenberg stared bewildered at the pencil as if it was a cockroach.

To be precise, she hadn't paid a dime so far. But who is counting?

"Not a problem. So your daughter is?"

"Lord aren't you uniformed! Penelope Stacey Valdenberg. Obviously. I should really speak to the owner about his employees." She was getting lauder now and by all means, her voice was able to sound even worse when lauder.

I was pretty sure, she was one of these women who wanted to meet the big boss here. She would not come here, if she knew him already. Fat chance she would be able to complain to him. Still, poor Linda.

"Obviously. I have added all the information you have provided. How old is your daughter, so we can find the right trainer for her?" Linda smiled politely and skipped asking this "lady" for her own age.

"17, as you would know, if you would be a little bit qualified for this job. Every one knows us inside the NYC high society!" Wow, that was a low blow. Clearly Linda was well qualified showing her tremendous calmness right now.