Yesterday I called for a vote on who should write about the tri coach firing/rehiring saga. Those resilient folks who read my entire post claimed they wanted to hear both sides. So. Here it is. My husband wrote this. I interjected as needed.
As you may know, my wife has hired a triathlon coach. I don't ask questions........I just tell her, "Yes." whenever she wants something. I think there may have been three times in the history of our relationship I've told her that she can't do something.
I am sorry. I cannot write for laughing SO HARD. Three times? I am not saying the obsessive over protectiveness is not sweet I am just saying, The Coach has a plethora of rules.
We vacationed to Hawaii when she was eight months pregnant, I told her she couldn't climb to the top of Diamond Head.
So there we were climbing to the top of Diamond Head. We got about halfway up. You would think I would have been concerned that she would go into labor. Nope, all I was thinking, while trailing her and mentally writing my last will and testament was, "Please don't slip and fall", because I don't think I would have survived her landing on me.
Really funny, Girl Scout Cookie Boy.
We ended up turning around and going back down. We definitely got some crazy looks from people on the trail as we were retreating. I just kept telling everyone that the mental hospital called and I had to get her back. We couldn't be late.
The only other time I remember telling her no, when she wanted me to buy a pair of chaps. After I picked my jaw up from the floor and looked in the mirror at my fat a$$. My response was, "I'm not in the Village People. I'm not gay. I like women. Are you wishing I was gay. Do I need to hire a "pinch hitter" to wear some chaps for you? Are you out of your f*$#^%@ mind!!!!!!!!!!!!! ?"
The Pioneer Woman's husband wears chaps. I am just saying. I wasn't imagining my husband gay. I was imagining him a cowboy. Hello?
Back to my point. About 95% of the time my wonderful, loving, awesome, hot ass wife gets what she wants. Seriously, she does a great job taking care of the kids and being the mom and dad during baseball season, so I have no problem with her getting her way most of the time. Maybe I've spoiled her, I really don't know, BUT she now (not all the time, but most of the time) thinks that she must get her way with everyone!
I whole heartedly agree with the first part of this paragraph. I'll have to give the second part some thought.
For example this coach she hired (I hate him.......can't stand him.......would punch him right in the lips if I ever saw him........would pee in his gatorade before a race if I had that chance.) I've never even met the guy. I'm a coach, it's my job, I know how to coach and help my players. This guy isn't a coach, he's some weenie with ears that writes triathlon programs, puts on races, and take people's money while being lazy. He's worthless. Heather would be better off getting reading tips from Stevie Wonder or taking babysitting tips from Michael Jackson.
Why wouldn't he have ears? Don't we all have ears?
He has been helpful. but I didn't feel I was getting my moneys worth. I did not sign up to be on a team. If I were able to do that kind of rigid schedule I would still be wetting my pants at step class.
Heather was all ready to fire him after this last race - you know the one with the 27 trips to the "port-a-shitter".
I went twice.
I was excited. She was going to do it over email. I was actually hoping that he would pop off to her in his reply and give me a reason to drive to his office and pimp slap his scrawny ass.
She emailed him and told him she was letting him go and his services were no longer needed. I wanted to write the email. She wouldn't let me (something about harrassment and jail time.) He replied back, and Heather forwarded that to me. I read it and laughed. I also read her reply to him. Then I walked out of the dugout at my game, called her and told her that she was a real snippity b!%^h in that email.
Her response was classic. WELL.......I WAS TRYING TO BE!!!!!!" I said to myself, "Self, at least you aren't the only one getting the royal treatment." I would never say that to her. She would pee in my Post Toasties in the morning. I did tell her that if that was her goal, she most definitely accomplished it.
(My husband doesn't eat Post Toasties. I would never TRY to be a Snippity B. to him.)
The tri coach had two main issues with the firing.
1. It was a shame I hadn't actually done a race before I quit so I could accurately assess the benefits of his training.
2. If I was unhappy why didn't I say something sooner so he could fix the problem?
I had two responses.
1. I DID do a race the previous weekend. His race. He SAW me. I went on to say that the fact he didn't seem to know who I was despite our repeated meetings was most definitely part of the problem.
2. Fair enough. I let him know that he does not communicate with me. His services promise weekly progress reports. I didn't get ANY. I don't need to pay another person for the privilege of nagging them. Furthermore I have better things to do than to log all my workouts so that I can get no feedback. I told him I didn't hire him to attend scheduled groups workouts exclusively and he felt that was the crux of the program then we just weren't a good fit.
I went on to tell him if he thought he could fix those things I would continue service with him.
Ultimately he did agree that he had not given me the attention I deserved and he outlined his plan to correct the situation.
In the end I got home from my game last night and we talked. She didn't end up firing him. She kept him on for another month. I can't believe it.......actually.......I can. I told her to give him another chance and maybe he'd make some changes. If not, she can fire him next month and I might still get my chance to break him in half.
This post seems to have different points for each of us.
The Coach's point - I am spoiled. I can be a snippity B. He wants to beat up someone.
My point - I should not have assumed the tri coach could read my mind. (Why DO men have such a hard time with that?) People sometimes deserve a second chance. (Hopefully they won't need a third. )