Okay, the thing with Jazzercise is, you really can’t quit. They won’t let you—I’ve tried. It’s like a cult: Once you’re in, someone has to send a team of deprogrammers to kidnap you out.
I had every intention of quitting earlier this month. But, as Betty (who power-guzzles her Kool- Aid) pointed out, my strategy was faulty. I went on a day when both Precariously Perky Julie and Casey, The Queen of Pain were there. I should have known better. They gave me all kinds of reasonable-sounding arguments why it was in my best interest not to quit. I caved.
Then, I went out of town, again, like we all knew I would. Since I didn’t get home until after the 15th (the cutoff date for cancellations in any given month) I’m in through the end of September. This, of course, was their plan.
But… I figured I’d go ahead and fill out my cancellation for next month ahead of time (having come to my senses) when I drug myself in there yesterday.
Jules was ready for me. When I walked in the door, she shoved a clipboard at me and told me to fill out the form. Okay, I started doing that. A few lines in, I realized I was filling out the “I agree not to sue you if you kill me” form that everyone has to fill out once a year. I scratched my head. It wasn’t time for me to do this. “Why do I need to fill this out?” I asked.
The place was full of people—Jules had some kind of special going on. She was very CONVENIENTLY too distracted to answer except for an over-the-shoulder, “It’s the release.”
Well, I knew THAT. I looked at her sideways. “You’re just trying to distract me from asking for my cancellation form.”
She trilled a laugh, tossed her ponytail, and quickly engaged in a serious conversation with someone behind me related to childcare.
“Here, Susan.” One of the class managers handed me a ticket. “We’re having a drawing today.”
When I turned back, Jules was chatting up a potential recruit. She had no time for my nonsense.
The crowd was moving toward the dance floor. All I could do was drop the clipboard and move with the group. It was that or be trampled.
After an hour with The Queen of Pain, I was too tired to argue with them.
Resistance is futile. At least I’ll be 24 forever…