A New Class Of Entitlement

I work as a receptionist in a small gym where memberships are more like spots you reserve in certain classes. This one woman, now everyone’s least favourite client, comes in about forty-five minutes into the last class of the day, which is a reformer class. We close very early on Sundays.

Customer: “When does the reformer class start?”

Me: “Oh, they’re about fifteen minutes away from finishing. Are you here to meet your friend?”

Customer: “No, I’m here for the class.”

Me: “I can let you in, but you won’t get anything done and you’ll waste your money.”

Customer: “Well, you should sign me up for the next one.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but this is actually the last class we have today.”

Customer: “Make one for me.”

Me: “Unfortunately, private classes have to be booked ahead of time through the owner.”

I give her the owner’s card.

Customer: “Then why didn’t you call me to tell me about the class?”

Me: “I’m sorry, the owner didn’t tell me I needed to call someone. Did you sign up for the class?”

Customer: “No, I didn’t want to sign up and I didn’t tell the owner I was coming.”

Me: “So how was I supposed to know you were coming?”

Customer: “It’s your job!”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t even have your phone number in our system.”

Customer: “You should know all your clients’ phone numbers!”

Me: “Ma’am, we have hundreds of clients. Now, I can tell you’re angry, so I’ll have to ask you to leave. If you look on the app we had you install while you were registering for our gym, the schedule is posted there. Have a good day.”

Customer: “I can have the boss fire you and then buy you myself!”

I know d*** well I’m the only reason this place isn’t falling apart.

Me: “I’m sure you can. Leave.”