someone to manage his gym and you are the only person that would be good. Think about it” Fernandez said with an irritated tone.
“Is he here now?” I asked.
“No” Fernandez replied, “but he wants to know when he can schedule a time to meet with you. I have been to Guam and it is great, really great. They treated me very well and the gym is beautiful, top of the line. Seriously, it is better than anything we have here and the clientele is great. And living on Guam is like living here. The people are friendly, the island is beautiful and Chamorro culture is great. It is a really great opportunity and I think you would really like Guam. You should talk to my client. You could make some serious money.”
I didn’t understand why Fernandez was making it into such a big deal. I was not interested in moving away from O’ahu and I didn’t really care about meeting his client so I told him that if his client was in the gym the next morning, I would talk to him before my workout. The next morning when I walked into the gym Fernandez was sitting at a table with two other men waiting for me, Mr. Saru and Nestor Daya. Standing before me with his shaved head, overdeveloped muscles sprouting with body hair and his brightly colored outfit, Mr. Saru looked like a cross between a circus strongman and a professional wrestler. I remember that when Fernandez introduced Mr. Saru, he squeezed my hand like a vice grip as if to emphasize his power. I remember thinking that the other man was considerably smaller and his skin tight t-shirt had the Guam Bodybuilding Championship logo on it. Fernandez introduced him to me; “this is Nestor Daya, he is the head trainer at Mr. Saru’s gym and he is the current Mr. Guam bodybuilding champion.”
I shook hands with Nestor and took a seat at the table. Mr. Saru began to speak.
“You are the guy I have heard so many good things about?” Mr. Saru asked incredulously. I must have looked puzzled because Fernandez quickly spoke up; “He is the guy that everyone said would be the best manager for your gym.”
Mr. Saru looked me up and down and then continued “I have interviewed about a dozen people and have not found anyone qualified to manage my gym. I even asked all the fitness industry people I know and your name keeps coming up. In fact, at dinner the other night, I told Fernandez that I keep hearing about this one guy, the manager of the vitamin shops and he immediately smiled and said that he knew you too. Can you believe that? Even Fernandez says that you would be perfect for the job. So I asked him to introduce me to you and here we are.”
I smiled and looked first at Fernandez then over to Mr. Saru.
“You should see the gym, it is beautiful, clean and the equipment is great” Fernandez said.
Mr. Saru was pleased to hear Fernandez give praise to the gym but I was surprised to hear him kiss ass like that. Fernandez isn’t the kind of guy to promote something unless he is getting paid. Nestor stood up suddenly and excused himself from the table. “He’s gonna puke again. We were training legs with Fernandez and Nestor had to run for the bathroom to puke a couple times” Mr. Saru said with a laugh.
I’ve been around enough meat headed bodybuilders to know that in the world of bodybuilding, training to the point of vomiting is an admirable trait. Among the hardcore bodybuilding crowd, it’s a way of showing off, training hard enough to become nauseated and then continuing to train.
What about you? You look like you train. Do you ever plan to compete?” Mr. Saru asked.
“No, I don’t plan on being a bodybuilder again” I said.
“He was the runner up Mr. USA middleweight a few years ago” Fernandez said, trying to add to my credibility with Mr. Saru and it worked. He looked at me with new found respect and smiled. “Well, I have an opportunity that I would like you to consider. I own the most beautiful, well equipped gym on Guam. It has a juice bar, personal training, group exercise rooms, a great staff but the one thing I don’t have is a good manager, a good leader. I need someone with experience. I am interested in learning more about you and telling you more about this opportunity. We are having dinner tonight at Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. Nestor and Fernandez are going and I would like to invite you too.” I remember that my first thought was of Emiko, that night was supposed to be our movie date night. And then I thought about the opportunity at hand. I remember wondering if it was legitimate.
“Sure what time is dinner?” I asked.
“Meet me at the Waikiki Prince Hotel at 6:30 this evening. We can meet in the lobby and talk before we go over to the restaurant” he said.
“Okay, I will see you this evening” I said, standing up from the table. I shook hands with Mr. Saru, Nestor and Fernandez before walking into the gym to train.
I remember calling Jay because his company has an office on Guam. “Guam, why on earth Guam?” was his initial response. “All I know is that it’s hot, really hot! The average humidity is 86 percent and there are no birds because all the brown tree snakes ate them.” He laughed and then continued, “Everyone we send down there from my office says that it would be a miserable place to live compared to Hawaii. I have to take another call. Don’t do anything crazy, ok? Let’s talk later. Bye.”
I hit the end call button, placed my cell phone on the coffee table and walked out onto the lanai. Although my phone call to Jay was brief, he planted a seed of doubt. I didn’t know what to think. Standing on the lanai, gazing over Makiki I couldn’t help but imagine Guam as an unbearably humid, desolate island, barren, save for a few scattered palm trees infested with thousands of snakes. And a gym, there is a gym. High humidity, brown tree snakes and a gym, that was all I knew about Guam. I had forgotten to ask Mr. Saru if I could bring Emiko to the dinner and I knew I shouldn’t bring her along as an uninvited guest, only a haole would do that. The behavior of a haole person is typically rude. Throughout the pacific islands, Caucasians are typically referred to as haoles and if there is one thing I had learned during the last seven years, it is to avoid acting like a haole. I called Emiko and I remember hearing exasperation in her voice, even over the phone.
“What time will you be finished?” she asked.
“I don’t know, maybe nine, maybe ten? I will call you when I am finished” I said. There was a long silence before she responded. “Okay I still want to see you tonight. Call me when you are home. Bye.”
It was six fifteen in that evening when I walked into the lobby of the Waikiki Prince Hotel to meet Mr. Saru. The pretty local girl at the registration desk directed me to the bar. Mr. Saru was there waiting for me. With the brilliance of the setting sun over Honolulu Harbor as a backdrop, we sat, drinking Diet Coke as Mr. Saru told me about himself. He is part Chamorro, the indigenous people of Guam, because his mother is Chamorro but his father is from the mainland USA, a haole. He told me that his maternal grandfather was one of the island’s first millionaires. Mr. Saru grew up on Guam and attended private schools there before attending the University of San Diego. He told me that his wife had been his high school sweetheart and when he returned to Guam after graduating from college, they got married. I remember that during dinner, the focus of Mr. Saru’s conversation was Mr. Saru. He liked to talk about himself. Finally, towards the end of dinner he explained that knew I was a personal trainer at the Honolulu Club and the general manager of six vitamin stores but he wanted to hear more about my background and interests. I remember telling him that I am from California. I was educated in Exercise and Nutrition at California State University. I worked as a health food store manager, a personal trainer and a gym manager before I moved to Hawaii. My last job was managing six vitamin stores. I ended by telling him “I love living in Honolulu.” Mr. Saru smiled and said “Once you see what I have to offer, you will be in love with Guam.”
“That may be true” I said “but it would take a lot to get me off this island.
