Today was a long day. Jack went to see his daughter because she just gave birth, and that makes him a granddad. He was gone. Chloe too since she no longer works here, and Jesse ran errands for a good chunk of the day. So the office was quiet. I had a few job applicants come in and ask me questions.

There is an agent, and her name is Lulu - that's her real name, and her "thing" is finding placement for pretty Hispanic ladies who don't speak much English. She is one of the more annoying people I have encountered. I may not understand Spanish, but I sure understand that tone of voice. Some things carry across culture chasms, and unfortunately rudeness is one of them. She answered over top of the person I was quizzing and if her charges started to give an answer she didn't like, she prompted them in Spanish to give me a different answer.

On top of that, she tried to negotiate a raise at the six-month point for a charge who wasn't even close to being hired. (Her charge hadn't even interviewed with Jesse the ops manager.) Lulu's ballsy; I'll give her that.

But my day got better after seven. That's when my kickboxing class starts. I work out, my heart rate goes up, and before I know it, class is ending and I feel relaxed again.

Our teacher is Art Derman, the man, the legend. It seems that everywhere I go in Dallas, people smile and nod when I say Art's my teacher. "Oh, I know Art," they say. Know Art. Know Art? How do they know him? Does he know them? Does he know who they are? But he's like that, real personable and stuff. So I think people could have a conversation or two with him and feel like he's a nice guy and they think they like him and they know him.

Personally, I sort of have a crush on the school's nineteen year old assistant instructor. Yes, I know that's never going to happen, but look at the bright side. He's fun to look at.

In fact, sometimes I commit the lie of omission when I go visiting other schools. I like to visit other schools, for bench-marking and to learn new stuff. When I visit I sometimes neglect to mention that Mr. Derman is my instructor. "Oh," I would say when questioned, and then provide the name of the assistant instructor who is virtually unknown. "I don't know him," the teacher at the away school would grunt, with some satisfaction. It's not a complete lie. Even though Derman owns the school, Mark Burr has been my primary teacher this past year; that is, he taught the most hours.

Mark's a tallented teacher and I appreciate him. And Art is over the top good.

I don't think I could stand to be that good. Sometimes with Art, I'm waiting for the cracks to show. Whenever anyone has a good game face, I wonder what they're really like and if they're dying inside. Perfectionists are usually hard on themselves because of things in their childhood.

Enough analysis for now. I appreciate Art and his high standards.