It was still a struggle to get the numbers up. Sunday’s class had nine students including Bethany and Marissa, and the following one on Wednesday had an even dozen. Through it all, Marissa fretted, worried it was her fault. Bethany, meanwhile, kept her eyes on her work, updating Sol’s sites several times each week, slowly gathering more online followers, hoping to convert them to real life ones. Sol was Sol, quietly stoic, teaching each class as if it were the entire universe.
Bethany suggested they stream some of the classes, but Sol was not in favor of that idea. “But why not?” asked Bethany. “It would be an easy way to get some hits, and more people would get a look at what your classes are all about.”
“There’s a couple of reasons,” replied Sol. “First off, I don’t really wanna have my face out there all that much. I mean, I don’t mind you posting the occasional photo, but this sounds more like I’d be hosting my own low budget TV show on cable access. No thanks.
“The other thing is that it would be impossible for me to correct any student who is doing a pose wrong. Some of these are dangerous, and you could hurt yourself if you’re holding it in the wrong angle.”
“Hmmm, ok. No live streaming then,” said Bethany. For now, she thought, and vowed to figure out a way to get him on board with it.
Before that happened though, something else came up: Sol started making money. It was Derrick who approached him after class one night, saying he might be able to get him a gig teaching a lunchtime session at the office where he worked. Sol and Bethany worked out a price, which Derrick took back to his HR, and a week later the company hosted its first weekly yoga class.
“Not a bad way to spend my lunch hour,” Sol said later.
“It went well then?” asked Bethany.
“Yeah, really well. I mean, they want a very easygoing class. No one wants to go back to work all sweaty. It was one step up from Chair Yoga – which I might try teaching next time I’m there.”
“Cool! Well hopefully we can rustle up a few more of these.”
“Yeah, definitely,” Sol smiled. “And I mean it’s good money. Speaking of…” He reached into his pocke and pulled out $100. “Your cut.”
“What, really? I think that’s too much. They paid you $400 for the class, right?”
“Yeah, so, I know we never discussed details, but I think 25 percent is a pretty good rate.”
“I don’t know…I was thinking more of a 10 percent finder’s fee type deal. I mean, eventually we should be taking in a lot more money. I’m looking at this as a volume game.”
“Well let’s stick with this, and when we get to that volume stage, then maybe we can renegotiate. But for now, I’m happy to give you 25 percent. After all, you’ve been working hard and you’ve had no payout.”
Not true, thought Bethany, I can actually see a trace of my abs thanks to your classes. But she simply shrugged and smiled and pocketed the money.
The next six weeks saw a gradual increase of regular students, as the trio hosted classes across the city, from Santa Monica all the way to Anaheim. Classes went well, but there were too many variables involved in switching venues every week – especially venues that had already proved themselves unrentable. Some places were stuffy beyond belief, others attracted too much attention – one class was shut down by overzealous LAPD who decided that things looked too shady. In one class the shivasana was disturbed by a large rat who ventured forth from the walls – much to the shock of the patrons.
As he chased the rat out of the room, Sol maintained a quiet dignity, just like he did within all the other issues in all the other venues.
At the weekly catch-up meeting with the girls, he didn’t complain, but it was obvious that he was growing tired of the constant moving around. “So, how are we doing, ladies?” he asked. Both of them smiled back.
“Excellent,” said Marissa. “Remember the T-shirt shop on Melrose? Our third venue? I signed a lease with a guy yesterday.”
“Hey, that’s awesome. He came to a class?”
“No, but his friend did and told him about it. So my boss was happy that this idea is officially working. And of course the owner is happy, too. I think he has a couple of other properties so we might be able to hook those up in the coming weeks.”
“Great to hear. How about you, Bethany. How is everything on your end?”
“It’s good. Derrick’s company, Wild West Distribution, they’ve re-upped to have you come back for another two months of weekly classes.”
“Oh cool, I like those guys.”
“They like you, too, apparently. But in bigger news…we’ve had a few inquiries for VIP classes, and I think we finally got one signed for a 10-class package. You’ll head to her house in Malibu on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Ooh, nice! Yeah I was wondering if we should lower the price for those – at least at the start, until we get a base.”
“We still can if you want,” said Bethany, “but hopefully she’ll tell her friends and that will drum up more interest.”
“Hmmm, watch out for that Malibu set,” warned Marissa with a wink. “This could be a case of bored housewives swooning over the young yogi.”
Sol blushed. “I can assure you, my father taught me how to take care of myself.”
That self-defense wasn’t needed after all, as Sol’s student was very serious about yoga. And, as hoped for, word spread about an innovative new yoga instructor in the neighborhood, and by the end of his first week Bethany had signed up four more VIP students.
It was a curious scene, as despite being very into their yoga, each and every one of them was indeed a bored housewife or divorcee. Sol swore he could resist the urges and keep his hand out of the cookie jar, but Marissa and Bethany were not so sure. Besides, a bigger worry was what could happen if there were any suggestions of harassment.
Sol suggested giving every VIP student the option of inviting a friend along. While it might cut into his potential earnings, it could also expose him to more students, he argued. Bethany agreed that this would help prevent any questionable conduct or false allegations.
She also suggested that Sol make audio recordings of the classes. She reasoned that any offense would be just as detectable in an audio recording, but it would not be as invasive as setting up a camera.
It was a good strategy that ultimately proved unnecessary: the women were all polite and appreciative of Sol’s teaching and the fact that he came to their homes for the class.
The bring-a-friend offer turned out to inspire more women to sign up, and not all of these were housewives who lived in the neighborhood. Some held down high-paying jobs in companies that also budgeted for staff fitness and moral, and suddenly Sol found himself working five days a week.
After one Wednesday class, held in an abandoned travel agency, Sol confessed to the girls that he was exhausted. “Well, perhaps that’s too strong a word,” he explained. “I mean, I’ve been physically more tired after days of construction. But I have to say that I am grateful to you ladies for getting me out of that line of work. Dignified and all, don’t get me wrong, but I greatly prefer this. And I’m too busy to actually spend any of the money.”
“Glad we can help,” smiled Marissa. “My boss is still raving about how we managed to find a tenant for that T-shirt shop. And I’m close to signing another one. So you’re helping me, too.”
“Yeah, me too,” agreed Bethany. “I mean, aside from actually getting a lot out of your yoga classes, it’s paying off financially. I’m glad I let you talk me into 25 percent – and tax free I might add.”
“I’m happy to know it’s not all a one way benefit here,” he said. “So, we’re sorted for the next couple of classes? Or are we still looking for a space?”
“We’re sorted,” said Marissa. “I’ve even gone out and checked them myself. And I might have a very interesting one…the owner of that T-shirt shop, remember I told you he had a couple of other properties? Well, he told me about one – in Venice – that he is desperate to unload.”