In Los Angeles especially, some people are always "on." They're hyper, they're lying in wait to make a joke, and they desperately need attention. You're never really engaging with them as much as you are merely their audience.
Meet Meredith, an obnoxious personal trainer slash credit-less actress. She was clad in athletic wear and bouncing in her booth. I dreaded greeting her, knowing she'd attempt to lure me into her frenetic orbit. Her poor dining companion was her training client. As I approached, Meredith was enthralled in recounting some uninteresting anecdote about someone getting the schedule wrong at the gym, and she found it as funny as Lucy's Vitameatavegmain commercial. My face reflected my lack of interest.
"Hello," I interrupted.
"AHHHHH I was just telling her about my cray cray day!" she proclaimed.
"Anything to drink?" I asked.
With startling intensity, she leaned into her companion and joked, "What if we got HAMMERED after that workout? Like, what if we each ordered a bottle of wine? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" She then threw her head back and cackled maniacally like someone getting their first taste of meth.
"I'll have a water please?" her companion said meekly.
"FINE, I'll have a water, too," Meredith said. "But is it reverse osmosis?"
"Pardon?" I asked with unmuted annoyance.
"Is your water filtered to reverse osmosis?" she inquired theatrically.
"Yes," I lied.
Using a condescending valley girl accent, she began explaining the benefits of reverse osmosis. I walked off and returned many minutes later with waters. Sensing my lack of interest, she tried to get personal.
"You look familiar," she accused.
"I doubt that," I replied. "Ready to order?"
"Have you trained at [name of her gym]?" she asked.
"I have not."
"Are you SURE?!"
"Yes," I said. "Any menu questions?"
"How do I know you??" Meredith persisted.
"Couldn't tell you."
"Yeah may I please have the steak sandwich?" her companion asked.
"Really?" Meredith pivoted. "Red meat?" Her ridicule continued until her client ordered a boring salad made even more boring by substituting the dressing and anything remotely tasty. Meredith also ordered a terrible salad, which could have been made at home with a bag of spinach, carrot shreds, and olive oil. But why settle for convenience and cost effectiveness when you can enjoy that green feast for $18 a pop?
The food arrived and fed Meredith's stage presence. Imitating another training client's bad form, she stood up in the middle of the aisle and made a flailing spectacle of herself, causing everyone to dodge her as they carried full trays and palpable contempt. She left me her business card, which I promptly tossed out with the gin-filled kid's cup I'd used to medicate my time with her.
Before she left, she hounded me to follow her on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, SnapChat, and even Spotify. I claimed to be on a social media fast. I have no need to be someone else's audience when, like everyone else out here, I see myself as the main attraction.
self-absorbed cunt.
Posted by: anne marie in philly | March 01, 2020 at 04:29 PM