Janet went to the gym every other day after work, three times a week. A professional woman in her mid-twenties, she envisioned a future for herself with this powerful company. To keep herself in the positive eyes of her supervisor and his bosses, she had to maintain her professional appearance. If they stopped looking at her, they would also stop looking at her personnel file for qualifications to move her up. She had always known that business was a sexual boys' club and rather than fight it, she joined it -- in her own way. Women have always had the power. They just got their minds poisoned into thinking that using it shouldn't be that way.
Sure, some men are competitive and would use every trick in the book to keep a woman from claiming a job that a man had been coveting. Companies are getting smarter. Playing those political games is a death trap to team building and cooperation toward stated corporate goals. Jobs should go to those who have worked hard to prepare through education, training, attitude, and when necessary, the skills to motivate others to rise to their own personal levels of success. Male or female, it makes no difference if all other criteria for success are met.
Janet had done her research into the corporation heads and members of the board. There was a mix of the old-school boys' club, for example. Some newer members wanted to be protectors of the women they employ, by keeping them "protected" from the cutthroat ways of business. Then, there was a new wave of strong women who had broken a few barriers to sit in the big conference rooms of the upper floors. They were well educated, strong-willed, and ready to fight for the company. One day, she would be one of those women. She worked hard at the office, and she worked hard in the gym. She also played hard whenever she could. That's where this story begins.
After changing into her sloppy, loose-fitting workout clothes, she stretched her muscles and warmed up in the aerobics area of the co-ed gym. She was focused. She came to workout, not attract me the way some girls flaunt themselves in tight-fitting leotards. Those didn't absorb any perspiration or keep the muscles warmed up as she worked. Janet was there to workout, not to attract attention. The wrong attention in the gym did not fit her overall career agenda goals.
The treadmill was the next stop. Her shoelaces were tight, and her shoes fit her well. She draped her towel over the bar and started the machine to a walking pace for five minutes, then a jogging pace for five minutes, then a running pace for four minutes monitoring her heart-rate on her wristband device to be sure she stayed comfortably in the training zone.
As she progressed from walking pace to jogging, another woman took up the machine beside her and started walking. She had a pretty face and reddish-blond hair, but she was in the right place and the right frame of mind to be losing a few pounds. Janet never trained listening to iPod music, she listened to her own breathing pace and paid attention to the depth of her lungs. Music was a distraction to her. She had been training for so long that her internal rhythm was enough to help her keep up her pace.
The automated treadmill warned of the next stage of her program. Janet was ready to run. Her sweatshirt was beginning to show some water loss as she picked up the pace while checking her wristband monitoring device. Her blond ponytail swayed at the rhythm of her feet. She looked like a well-oiled machine as she ran -- poetry in motion. There were no thoughts in her mind -- only the next stride and the next half mile to run.
The treadmill buzzer sounded, and the treadmill slowed down to a walk before stopping. Janet grabbed her towel to mop her face and dry her hands. Then bent over to retrieve her bottle of electrolytes in water. She was in it to win it, but she wasn't going to deprive her body in the process. It didn't take her long to catch her breath.
The girl on the machine next to her climbed down, desperately out of breath. Janet watched her. "Are you alright? Feeling dizzy? Do you feel faint?"
"No, I'll be alright in a minute. I'm new here and -- to be honest -- I'm not sure I'm doing all this right."
"Did you speak with the trainers here at the gym?"
"Are you supposed to? They all act like they couldn't be bothered unless a girl looked like those girls over there with the perfect bodies on display in those stretchy leotards."
"Yeah, I get that. The male crew on tonight are whore-dogs and all the girls know it. Of course, there are the kinds of girls who go for that type of guy. I don't get it. They are so obvious about it too."
"You seem to know a lot about training and everything. I've been in college for the last three years, studying, reading, sitting on my buttocks, but trying to get good grades. I have one semester more before I can think about grad school. This is my future, and I must be prepared."
"What's your focus?"
"I hope to be working toward and M.B.A. after graduation. I know it's not what women usually do but working with numbers and what they can mean in business decisions really turns me on. Powerful men listen to a well-qualified M.B.A. I don't seek attention, but I do seek respect. Do you know what I mean? Besides, good looking men in expensive suits is also a turn on for me."
"I can understand that. Good for you."
"Thanks. But back to current reality, what do I do about my physical program?"
Janet looked around the gym, but didn't see Lisa. Come with me. Oh, what's your name?"
"Helen. Helen Michaels. What's yours?"
"Hi, good to meet you. I'm Janet Myers. Let's go see Lisa. She's a real personal trainer with proper background credentials. Most of the guys on this crew are students who maybe had a year of physical education at the college level but dropped out of sports due to an injury or loss of scholarship due to poor grades."
"Wow. It's fortunate I ran into you, Janet."
"I'm glad I met you too, Helen. I think we're going to be fast friends."
At the control desk, Janet located the personnel schedule and found Lisa's work schedule on the clipboard.
"Bad news, Helen. Lisa isn't on until tomorrow afternoon. Tuesdays are not my usual days to workout, but if you want to meet her, I can come tomorrow and make sure you get the attention you need. She can make out an effective program for you."
"You'd do that for me? Thanks!"
"Hey, you're worth it. Now, if you'd like, you can follow me around on my circuit tonight. I can show you a few things, maybe help you familiarize yourself with these machines, then later we can go have a beer together."
"A beer? Really?"
"Of course, you know in Ireland -- as the story goes -- Olympic trainers used to encourage their athletes to drink Guiness beer after T-sessions. Guiness is a very heavy beer, but a couple of domestic Lite beers couldn't hurt. Totally up to you, of course."
