Engineer Sweat

Today I walked by our central conference rooms at work, and as I passed by, I saw something which seemed a little bit off. There were engineers on little mats all around the room. All of them appeared to be in some sort of pain, except for the lone, cute female at the front of the room. She was leading them in some sort of activity which involved them lying on their backs, holding their ankles directly above their heads and squirming like stuck turtles.

I later inquired as to what sort of torture was being inflicted on the men in this room, and I was informed that it was a combination of yoga and pilates.

I can think of nothing less suited to male engineers than yoga or pilates. This was taking place in a building where the bear claws and cinnamon buns for $1.50 run out in the vending machine by 10:30am, yet you can get a Nature's Choice product of any variety at any time of day. These are guys who have a blood sugar level which reads "Mountain Dew Code Red."

Incidentally, there was a dinky old boom box in the corner of the room providing the musical accompaniment, Madonna's "Like A Virgin." A room full of aging engineers willing to lay on their backs struggling to hoist their feet over their heads while donning their holey "1980 Pink Floyd World Tour" T-shirts? "Like?" Based on the smell eminating from the room, I'm relatively sure that the instructor wasn't looking for any dates after class.