Confident Carl

Carl’s a popular Zumba instructor. His moves and music are inspiring enough to gain fun and lose pounds. His energy is infectious, and the room reverberates with the intense routine filled with foot-shaking music. Lines snake from entrance to exit, and the class is filled to capacity. Despite our gym membership, people reserve a spot a few days before class by paying an extra dollar to ensure they get a place.

Another way is to get to class an hour early and get a ticket for class behind the ones that paid.

Carl knows how to wield power over the class. They’re reverential to his leadership qualities, his uplifting music, and confident dance moves. His exercises target several muscle groups including core, arm, leg muscles, and glutes. The sound of hands and feet hitting the floor, the peppy music, the claps, the whoops, make the walls resound. Despite the large capacity of the room and an air conditioning system working overtime, the room mirrors fog up like a steamy love scene in a car from some old ship wreck movie.

Last week, there was no long waiting line, and that’s when we realized we had forgotten he was on vacation. For those who came prepared for a High Intensive Training, it was extremely disappointing.

The substitute was quite a contrast to him. She was a young lady, a bit insecure, and was not exactly an enthusiasm whipper-upper. Most everyone’s disappointment turned to veiled hostility.

Her unfamiliarity with the sound system got the class on a rocky start. Some rolled their eyes behind her back without caring the room had mirrors. Her diffidence began to swell, and it affected the over-all climate. The dance moves were not on par with Confident Carl. She tried to get people to make some noise, but the class did not oblige. A few snooty people left, and the instructor smiled helplessly at their exit.

It was hard, and my friend’s enthusiasm began to flag. She whispered, “This instructor just cannot get me motivated.” I told her to go along, and recommended, “Let’s make whooping noises to get energy up.”

Our noises perked up the pace a bit, and the instructor smiled weakly in gratitude. We also experimented some new subtle moves, and she began to imitate them.

After a while, my friend whispered a goodbye to hit the elliptical machine instead.

The teacher tried rearranging the formation, dividing up the rapidly shrinking group, and even asked for song choices. Her diffidence grew, as people filed out in the middle of a routine.

Somehow I completed the class. At the end, I went to thank her, but she beat me to it instead. Overall, I managed to whip myself a good workout despite the average lesson.

Carl came back for today’s class after a relaxed break.

We waited in line to get the numbers called. Since I got there ten minutes before class, the last of the tickets were gone. I put my name on the waiting list, and I noticed my friend. She congratulated on my patience, and all the others complained how awful it was with him gone the prior week.

It was nearly full attendance, and I was lucky to find the sole absentee spot. But I was way back in line, and could hardly see Carl.

He talked about his vacation, and everyone crowed how glad he was back. They began to stoke his ego, and I could see his grin grow wider. He satisfactorily brought to our attention the attendance strength, mentioned he had text messages from class members extolling his confident skills, and he thanked them for missing him this much. People had also complained about the substitute. He brought up the prior week’s class, and said that he learned only seven people stayed back until the end. Everyone laughed remembering.

Then he with a hint of sarcasm, asked, “So,who were those people that stayed?′

People scanned their heads, probably to sneak a laugh at those foolish ones. Some out of the few who stayed were too embarrassed to raise the hand.

Despite the discomfort I raised my hand, for I felt bad for the substitute. It was no fault of hers they did not like her in comparison to confident Carl. Besides, it seemed somewhat unpalatable in staying silent for a herd this shallow. Seeing me, a couple others slowly raised their hand, almost embarrassed for having stayed in a “bad” class. The class continued to titter.

Carl looked at me in the back and at the couple of hands raised peppered in the crowded class. He signaled for us come to the front line. The others made room with utmost deference, and he asked me specifically to take the most coveted spot right behind him.

After class, I went up to thank him. The topic came up again, and I asked him why he used this unique approach to address it. He was with another instructor friend. Quite simply he looked at her and said, “Haven’t we all been there?”