I graduated college in December 1987 (I’d started a semester late, hence my out of cycle completion). After college I worked through the spring, saved up some money, and then moved to Sacramento to once again live with my father and see if I could get something going. I rented the finished garage for $150 a month.
I had it in my mind to get into the fitness industry. At the time (1988), there was no such thing as a personal trainer. I’d been into fitness for a while, was young and lean, and looked as though I knew about exercise and nutrition. So it only took knocking on a couple of doors before I landed a spot as a Nautilus instructor at ATA Fitness for a whopping $5 an hour.
It didn’t take me long to figure out working in fitness (at least there) sucked. The instructors made squat. The money was in selling memberships and that’s where the club put its focus. It had a sales staff of around 10 people who did nothing but beat the phones all day trying to get people into the club for a “free” 2 weeks, only to hit them up and hard sell them a membership. Once the cash was in hand, the sales people — and the club — couldn’t care less if you ever came back or worked out a day in your life.
So here are the sales people earning around $100 for every member they signed while the fitness folks (me and 3 others) earned $5 an hour for actually showing people how to work out and improve their health.
ATA Fitness was on the second floor; the first floor was occupied by a Mexican restaurant and some office spaces. The Mexican place ran a special every day starting at 5:00 in the evening: $1 dollar draft beer with a basket of tortilla chips with salsa. I was so broke, that was my dinner pretty much every night.
I worked there around 3 months, but the money was too low. I left for the dreaded retail sector, to a sporting goods store, where I worked until joining the Air Force in 1989.
One wall of the workout room at ATA Fitness was all windows looking out over a busy road. I remember standing there, looking out the window, this song playing through the ceiling speakers. A college graduate at 22, I was living in a garage, making $5 an hour, and already nostalgic for the carefree life I’d just left and knew I’d never experience again.
Where do we go now?
Sweet Child of Mine, by Guns ‘n Roses
What memories does this song make you think of?
