When I’m sitting to pen an article each month, I often joke with Greg that I’m going to write another post about shitty coaches. I try my hardest to refrain because I’m not sure my wild-eyed ranting provides actual value, because the truth is that most of us have stories of our own. And though we all have things to work on, coaches reading the Performance Menu are interested in improving their knowledge and learning from the experience of others, so you, dear reader, are unlikely to find yourself among the lowest common denominator of coaches I rail against. No, the best thing to do about shitty coaches isn’t to lecture people on how to avoid following in their feces-encrusted footsteps anymore than it is to ignore them altogether. The best approach, I’ve found, is to laugh at them. With that in mind, here is my list of the five types of coaches you’ll come across at the gym, and unfortunately sometimes also outside of it. Hopefully you’ll have a running start if you see them in the parking lot. (And don’t worry if you’re laughing too hard—you’re probably on one of their lists, too.)
 
The Stalker
 
Once upon a time, I was thinking of switching from a fancy gym, which was about a 20 minute drive, to one of those chain gyms which had far fewer amenities but was only a half mile awayI signed up for a free guest pass, but then got sidelined by an injury and never used it. So some guy from the gym called. And called. And called. And emailed. And called. After a month, I had a total of 17 missed calls (some with messages) and a handful of emails telling me about a special rate to join the gym that I never visited. To be fair, I did try to call back once (but the person who picked up said the one leaving messages was unavailable.) As a customer, I was really theirs to lose, but I’ll be honest, the excessive calls kind of freaked me out and made me want to stay hidden behind voicemail.  Chill with the phone calls, bro. Trying to force a sale will lead to doom.
 
Other variations: The coach who suddenly takes an interest in your training and calls you at home at night if you miss a day of training, but only if it’s the week before your contract is up.
 
The Guru
 
I reserve this designation for coaches who have already been working with an athlete, and perhaps the athlete isn’t seeing results. They’re following the workout program and diet to the letter, but maybe need a little more love and attention and program tweaking to get them where they want to go. It’s hard to tell if the guru is incapable of helping make those modifications or just doesn’t give a shit, but what they’ll do is turn it around on the athlete and tell them this has to do with their mindset. That they should just believe. That they’re not losing weight or gaining muscle or making improvements because they don’t think they will. Often the gurus will offer a “challenge,” asking the athlete not to mention their lack of progress, deriding it as negative self-talk or a distraction, or telling the person to focus on higher goals than the ones they signed up with. Anything to avoid actually helping. Once the jig is up and they have to admit that they don’t have the knowledge and/or desire to work through these types of challenges, they’ll turn it around on the client and say that the client must look inward to overcome their blocks, or some such. (It’s okay—just admit you don’t want to work with people who could actually benefit the most from your help.)
 
Variations: Coaches who interrupt other people’s classes with long-winded stories, expecting people to hang on their every word, or who share philosophical theories about methodology athletes must understand (but sure as hell don’t explain it well enough for anyone to understand it). Coaches who have very unscientific theories they can’t substantiate (or which have been proven wrong by scientific data) but expect everyone to play along. And my favorite, coaches who refuse to answer questions because what they do can’t be described in words, and tell you that their training can’t be comprehended. Okay, then.
 
The “Expert”
 
I say expert in quotes because they are anything but. These are folks who will be able to diagnose a muscle imbalance they think you have without even watching you move, or who can tell you why the rehab exercises a physical therapist gave you are all wrong. They will spew off information about your adrenals or your cortisol or your chi without so much as an intake form. Best of all, their expertise is multi-faceted. Once a trainer told me that Buglarian lifters only ever trained in one lift and then went home. (I imagine he’d get upset—as they do—if I I told him I could pull up programs for him.)
 
Variations: Of course, many “experts” will try to prop themselves up by insulting all sorts of coaches and programs they are completely unfamiliar with, but then there are also the “experts” who read people’s body language and change their pitch midway through a conversation, contradicting themselves in the process. Fun times.
 
The Authoritarian
 
I’m not sure other people would balk at this type of coach as much as I do, but sometimes the emperor has no clothes. We’re talking about the guy who’ll try to impress prospective clients with his toughness, pointing out that anyone who’s late has to do 50 pushups or sit in a corner or something. He’s the coach who won’t let people drink water when they’re training, because if they’re asking for it, they don’t deserve it. And while some people think the few people who thrive in this type of environment make up for the ones that are damaged by it (Whiplash style), needless to say, not everyone would agree with that assessment. This coach’s sales pitch is usually to glare at people as they walk in and read off a list of expectations. Good luck with that.
 
Variations: There really aren’t that many—authoritarians are all pretty similar—but sometimes you’ll hear raucous drunken conversations where they’re bragging about all the clients they kicked out for minor reasons. Caveat emptor, and all that.
 
The Bait & Switch Salesman
 
He’ll reel prospective clients in by offering a free training session, but use the entire time to hit you with an over-the-top sales pitch for personal training or supplements or some such. Overpromising is the m.o., so look for the person who doubles as a used car salesman and will say absolutely anything to get you to sign the dotted line. None of the promises are in the contract, though.
 
Variations:  Whatever you want them to be.
 
Did I miss any? Send me an email and if I get enough suggestions, I might even  include yours in the next coach-bashing comedy hour. Or maybe we can make fun of gym goers next.