This morning at my boxing gym, I’m walking past the jam-packed training floor toward the ladies’ locker room when a trainer (whom I always see but have never spoken to) gestures at me. I’m still blasting Beyoncé so I remove my headphones before raising my eyebrows.
“There’s been a complaint,” Guy I Don’t Know says. “You need to smile more.”
My brain at 7:45 a.m.: