It was ’85 and this writer had been divorced for going on four years. I had my two young sons, 10 and 7, living with their mom and her boyfriend in Canarsie Brooklyn. I lived in this quaint attic apartment a half hour away from them in Elmont, Long Island, not too far from my favorite haunt, Belmont Racetrack. You see, my old man was a bookmaker way back when I was my sons’ age, to supplement his salary as a Longshoreman at the Brooklyn waterfront. But that’s taking me away from this little anecdotal tale.
A year earlier, 1984, I had managed to sell my telemarketing business (office supplies) while facing a certain bankruptcy if I kept it going. To display my being an honorable man, I had promised all the vendors I bought from that I would not leave them all in the lurch with such a thing as bankruptcy. So, I stumbled into a buyer with my tiny ad in the Sunday Times Business (Someone much more versed than me advised me to only run a tiny ad, as the big ads usually mean that one is either very rich or very desperate). So, I found a buyer, he offered me cash in hand if I did not wait for a two or three year buyout. Within 12 months I had followed my gambling addiction and blew most of the money on Stock Market put and call options.
I went from being a bartender for six months, and then driving a limo for six more. No good. In those days the bars allowed smoking and man I would come home after my shift stinking of smoke from head to toe (especially the hair). As a limo driver I began in June and that was Prom time, which meant 10 to 12 hour shifts. Sitting in that limo for all those hours did a number on my sciatic nerve, the one that ran from my buttocks down one leg. After I woke up the next afternoon (you didn’t get home until six AM) I would have to lay down on my living room carpet with an ice bag under my ass. So, I needed to find work. Since I had always been an ace telemarketer I figured I needed to find a sales job.
There was a new health club, a super one with everything, right in Canarsie, a half mile from my kids. The place was owned by a guy who also owned the tennis club on the property. He made his money, I found out later on, as a good old American slumlord. HIs son ran the health club and his son’s pal, a tennis instructor, was the sales manager. I aced the interview and began working immediately. We had a sales office with myself joining three others, Bill, Joan and Dennis. Bill was a few years my senior and had been in the gym business for years. He really knew his shit. Joan was perhaps 10 years older than me and knew the owner. She was all business and very team oriented. Dennis was perhaps 10 years younger than me and this was his first gig in sales. He looked like Beethoven and was even more hyper than me.
Being from the ‘Boiler Room’ telemarketing industry I always found ways to increase my income. In telemarketing we gave sob stories and then gifts which were called premiums. During the 1960s the banks used premiums to get people to open accounts. The more you put in the bigger the premium AKA gift. In our sales pitches we always mentioned how the banks gave out Mr. Coffee desktop coffeemakers, so we followed suit. At the health club what could I do to get an edge in my commissions ( we all worked strictly on commissions, no salaries and no draws)? The club had set one commission for each new signup. Well, here’s how I got around all this to increase my income: A couple comes in, boy friend and girlfriend, looking to check out the club and have a tour. So, I took them around the place and really talked it up. They sat in the office with me asking ‘How Much’. I knew the one year membership cost let us say $500 per person. Now, if the couple was married they would be charged $750 for a ‘Family membership’. I very discreetly told them that for $50 I could sign them up as a married couple and save them $200. So, each time the girl came into the club I would greet her as ‘ Mrs ….’ . If there were college age young people looking to join the club I would tell them I could sign them up as ‘ Students’. The student membership was 1/2 the price of an actual membership, and for $ 50 they were now students. Three girls came in and when they left as members they were now Sisters, and I got $ 25 from each of them.
The best part of being a single guy working at the club was access to check out every woman who walked past our sales office. Of course, being the salesman gave me the credibility to meet whomever I was attracted to without coming off as a ‘ Wolf’. Plus, I could find the time on Weds afternoons to pop out of the club and go pick up my sons at their elementary school and drive them home. My ex and her husband were both at work, so I could spend an hour with the boys. Also, once a week I could take the early shift and leave by 4 PM to take my sons out for dinner.
The money, even with my added caveat, was not enough and there were no benefits, especially when it came to health and dental care. So, by the end of winter I was able to get a job as a high school teacher because the city was short of qualified people, and I had my four year college degree. I did miss the health club job for many reasons, but I had bills and responsibilities to deal with. C’est la vie.
PA Farruggio
January 2026