INTRODUCTION V.O.: Ineptitude … Failure … Inanity … Stupidity … MURDER! … MURDER!! … MURDER!!! This is How I Broke This.
SFX: CARTOONISH BROKEN SPRING. BOINGGGGGGG.
GUY RAZZ: I’m Guy Razz, host of How I Broke This. Not to be confused with that other podcast by that other guy, Guy Raz, called How I Built This. Welcome to my narrative journey about business ineptitude and the failed leaders who failed to learn from their failures. Listen as my guests reveal what led to their crushed entrepreneurial spirits – and hopefully, they’ll reference a murder or two to boost my dismal ratings.
V.O.: MURDER! … MURDER!! … MURDER!!!
GUY: Our guests today are failed fitness gurus Patty Pushup and Bobby Burpee, founders of LZA Fitness gym. Welcome.
BOBBY: Hey, Big Guy!
GUY: Big Guy? That’s quite a compliment coming from a self-absorbed mesomorph like yourself, Bobby.
PATTY: Bobby calls every guy smaller than him Big Guy. It’s his way of complimenting himself.
BOBBY: It’s a self-esteem strategy that’s part of my Pumping Irony® workshops.
GUY: So, tell us about your failed fitness club.
PATTY: First a legal disclaimer … LZA Fitness has no ties to franchise phenom LA Fitness.
GUY: Duly noted. What does LZA mean?
PATTY: LZA is an acronym for LaZy Ass.
BOBBY: Our fitness facility was designed for people who didn’t want to apply “work” to their workouts but still wanted to brag about going to a gym.
PATTY: Our tagline was “Taking the Work Out of the Workout.”
Unashamed endomorph Scott Saalman works out his thumbs, which is about as active as any humorist ever gets. (Photos provided by Scott Saalman)
GUY: Catchy.
PATTY: LZA was a safe space for those who liked to remain as still as possible, without breaking a sweat – and without facing the judgmental wrath of obnoxious fitness rats at other gyms.
BOBBY: Our first COYO® class was packed … well … until the deaths.
BOBBY: Who knew we’d need so many gurneys.
GUY: Wait … what? Did you say deaths?!!
V.O.: MURDER! … MURDER!! … MURDER!!!
GUY: This is just what this podcast needs for a ratings bump. By the way, what’s COYO®?
PATTY: Cobra Yoga.
BOBBY: It’s like goat yoga, but with king cobras instead of smelly goats. Goat yoga, while therapeutic, is flawed because it doesn’t deter physical exertion. Goat yoga people contort into complicated yoga poses while expending extra energy to avoid rolling in goat poop. Whereas, with cobras, the last thing you want to do is move – even an eyeblink could be fateful. Think catatonic state, much like when stumbling upon a grizzly bear.
GUY: Say more about the COYO® deaths—
V.O.: MURDER! … MURDER!! … MURDER!!!
BOBBY: Sorry, Big Guy, we can’t say much else. The case is currently in court.
PATTY: Guy, let’s just say, if we had to do it all over again, we would no longer offer COYO® during allergy season.
BOBBY: Sneezing turned our spring COYO® session into a venom massacre. DEATH ACHOO was a popular headline. But enough about COYO®. We also provided a guilt-free zone for people who sat at exercise machines and texted for hours. At LZA, we didn’t call it texting, it was FINGER STRENGTHENING®. Other gyms phone-shamed members for hogging equipment while Netflix binging. We embraced it!
BOBBY: We also offered a String Puppet Pilates® class, inspired by that 1970s doorknob exerciser fad.
PATTY: Remember those K-tel Multi-Exerciser commercials as a kid, Guy?
GUY: You mean the “As Seen On TV” rope and pulley home workout torture devices people attached to doorknobs?
PATTY: Exactly. Only with String Puppet Pilates®, the ropes didn’t attach to doorknobs but, instead, dangled from an overhead pulley system. Members secured their hands and feet into the plastic loops and were raised to a hovering position five feet off the floor. Our trainer, Jim Geppetto, controlled their limbs from the rafters via a series of repetitive rope tugs and releases. Clients experienced weightlessness, if not sheer helplessness, as Jim choreographed his herky-jerky gym ballet of human marionettes.
PATTY: Members also liked that LZA was a scale-free facility. Instead of using weight scales, a retired carnival worker, Wally The Weight Guesser, manned our Affirmation Booth. He’d intentionally guess peoples’ weights 20 to 30 pounds too low. It was great for customers’ perceptual body images. With each wrong guess, Wally gave away a donut. People couldn’t wait to return the following day just to hear Wally’s failed guesses – and lick glaze from their fingers.
GUY: Genius! LZA successfully targeted a specific American consumer need by providing a gathering place for those who simply wanted to create the illusion of working out.
PATTY: Business 101, right? What could go wrong?
GUY: So, what led to your bankruptcy?
BOBBY: Our gym was packed in January but it became a ghost town by April.
PATTY: We underestimated the power of indolence. LZA members became too lazy to even come to the gym to be lazy.
BOBBY: The drop in membership was a real kick in our kettlebells – if you know what I mean.
GUY: We’re nearly out of time. What else would you like to say to our listeners?
BOBBY: I’d like to ask one thing, Big Guy.
GUY: Go for it.
BOBBY: Would anyone like to buy a few used cobras?
Contact: scottsaalman@gmail.com