New to Nashville

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

It all seemed so straightforward at first. “Free lessons for newcomers.” “Come check out the dance studio.” For some reason the National Dance Clubs at Belle Meade doesn’t advertise “The Most Awkward Situation of Your New Life in Nashville.”

Don’t believe me? Keep reading (or check out these three City Search reviews).

In the beginning

When we first arrived at National Dance Clubs we were greeted by an extremely friendly and warm dance instructor. In fact, we were pretty unprepared for the atmosphere at the studio, and, having planned to play tennis afterward, we were pretty under dressed. Despite our embarrassment, our instructor made us feel exceedingly welcome. We did some very basic preparations, nothing much compared with other places I’ve been, and our instructor emphasized the importance of nailing the fundamentals. While I personally felt we could have progressed a touch quicker, hey, they’re the experts. And we were having fun…

Then came the “mini-sell”

Before we’d had much of a chance to enjoy our two free lessons, our instructor moved in quickly to convince us to sign up for a block of six additional sessions. She was slick about it, coupled with the fact that we, like many couples, “have always wanted to take dance lessons, but never had the time,” so we said, “Let’s do this.” It was a hefty chunk of change, especially for so few lessons. But it came with a number of additional events (at which the main attraction was an open bar). So if you don’t feel like you’re dancing your money’s worth, you can be darn sure that you can drink it.

The fun...

The next four to five lessons were great - no complaints there. Our instructor was both professional and fun, and we had a blast learning the basic steps to the waltz, rumba, push/pull, tango and foxtrot.

The hard sell...

Now this is equal parts art and science and it spanned two sessions. Here’s the breakdown, as best as I can remember it:

• The Questionnaire
  During our second to last private lesson our instructor had us fill out a 74-question worksheet (slight exaggeration) with some real brain-busters ("I enjoy dancing - Y/N” or “I would like to dance for fitness - Y/N"). Basically, they stack it full of items that no normal person would answer no to, and then use those answers later to overcome your objections to paying for more lessons. ("What? You don’t want to keep dancing with us? Now, you said ‘I would like to learn to dance.’ Now how do you expect to do that without lessons?")
• The Notebook
  On the second night our instructor pulls out a hand-written, color-coded notebook with all of our statements from the previous night. She picked it up off a table, hopped over to us, and exclaimed, “Ta-da!!!” She beamed as she showed off what she had created, but then issued a stern warning that it all depended on whether or not her boss would “approve us” for social ease classes, the next level of dance instruction. (At this point, no one has asked us yet if we are interested in continuing dance lessons, or even mentioned how much they cost.) The awkwardness builds...
• The Approval
  So, we walk into the boss hog’s office, present him our folder and politely ask him if he would approve us for social ease classes. He hesitates, looks us over, and says sure. We walk out, hit the music and assume proper posture. We begin to dance. Two beats later. “OK,” he says. “I’ve seen enough. You’re ready. The question is, on a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to dance?” My wife and I look at each other. “Well, I’m a teacher, so I’m inherently a tough grader. I’d say a six,” she says.
• Back in the office…
  Essentially, both our instructor and the main boss are unphased by what I thought was a pretty good answer by my wife. Sitting across the desk from the manager, he goes over what all we will receive for the 17th time before guardedly scribbling some numbers on a piece of paper. “Ten private lessons, ten group lessons, all of the functions, plus all access to the dance studio,” he says, and slowly slides the paper toward us. We look down.

  $1,800

$1,800? We practically burst out laughing. “I had thought our second round of lessons might be a bit out of our price range,” I start, “but this, this is way, way out of our price range.”

“We need to pay a mortgage,” my wife adds.

They insist. They plead. They persist. They’ll lower the price to $1,650 if we pay right now.

“I can count on one hand,” the manager says, “the people who say they’ll come back and continue lessons, and then actually do.”

“And you know what?” my wife counters. “We’re one of those people. So if we have any interest, we’ll let you know. But right now, we can’t.”

The moral of the story...

The National Dance Clubs at Belle Meade is stacked with professional dancers. They’ll teach you how to dance, and it’ll be a good time. But they’re a business, and as such, they need to keep the lights on. They’re going to hard sell you, and it’s going to be awkward. I’ve often joked that I have a pretty high tolerance for awkward situations, much higher than friends and family, so while I think the whole situation was kind of funny, I’m OK with it. After reading our story, you need to make up your own mind. Newcomers beware…

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