The Corporate Yoga Mirth



I am in Vancouver this week where leggings are pants, transparent or not. I came here to visit my daughter, write and take in some yoga classes.

I visited a corporate yoga studio that I have frequented many times, where the floors are perfectly honed white marble, soft white walls and the wafting scent of sanctuary beckons me.

The glowing desk shiny-haired yogis offer me a special promotion of $80 for five classes, which truthfully I can burn up in two days I explain.  I am from out of town, I explain.  I ask for another option.  My working yoga vacation could easily cost me $160.00 this week alone.  She offered me an unlimited pass at $140.00 because that's what her screen said.  She says I can use it any time I come to Vancouver, however, my daughter who lives here cannot use it.

I was not compelled to walk the hallway, not for $80.00, anyway.  If they had offered me a 5 class pass at half the price, which I paid the first time, I would have skipped down the hallway.  But why should they?  The 10 people behind me did, and that's the whole point.

Large corporate studios have the dollars to invest in the environment, and set a standard that their clients will enjoy where ever and who ever they are.  This "brand" carries the message, and it is carefully designed to tap into the need for sanctuary.  It is the reason why we will pay $80.00 for 5 classes.  That's corporate business.  And besides, that's what the thousands of perfectly branded brochures say.

Some people consider this business environment behind the yoga sanctuaries to be a denigration of yoga in the modern western world, where we attend these sanctuaries of mirth without paying proper heed to the histories, traditions and philosophy behind the practice of yoga, which is steeped in its language and Asanas.

On the contrary I say.  The way a business operates is the mirror of its soul, and the way we spend our time and money is the mirror of ours as consumers.

Knowing where a person spends her money calls for awareness, and that's what yoga is all about.  The practice of yoga is not the business of yoga, but it is.   Yes, I don't need a business to practice yoga.  I can practice anywhere I want, for free.  But I appreciate a community environment. I like being with other people as I practice. I like to learn from other teachers.

The need to make money is a reality for the yoga business because they can't take mirth to the bank. If there is no money being made, eventually the business dies, taking with it all the things you love about it and all the things you don't.

The corporate yoga studio has a mass market strategy, which is why they don't care about my $80.00 right now.  They want to sell as much as possible, for the least amount of investment, with the risk spread in a variety of market places.  It's called an economies of scale model. The key is to keep as many $80.00 as possible, whether they show up for classes or not.

I guess my sticker shock is largely attributed to the fact that I practice in, and teach, in what I would call a boutique yoga studio, with entrepreneurs at the helm, who live their lives on the success of their entrepreneurial prowess.

A boutique yoga studio is smaller, more personal and closer to its market and customer mirth factors, and they adjust, without marketing department meetings, accountants or executives getting in way.

The boutique yoga studio also has a much narrower focus.  Me. I am their focus.  They have fewer customers in a localized area.  Decisions are made differently, and immediately.  There is a human being who actually wants me to come to their classes, not just join their data bank.

In the corporate yoga business,  there are high overhead expenses and high risks if people do not buy yoga passes but the risk is localized. They also tend to have multiple owners who like their vacations and their returns, so the risk is spread across a number of locations so that other areas can continue to be successful in selling yoga passes.

The Niche Yoga Business model has concentrated business and personal risk.  If people don't know about them, or don't buy their passes, they are in trouble because the bank does not accept mirth as payment.  If this continues, the risk is 100% localized, which may cause the owner to close down his business if the conditions persist.

It really comes down to awareness, and that is very yogic.

It also comes down to who has more money and how they choose to use that money and when they show up in the market place next door to you if they see an opportunity.

In a community of niche yoga business, lack of competitor awareness and failure to act as a business community is to wear blinders, and is not very yogic.

And then there are the "me's" in this scenario. The seekers of mirth.  Corporate Yoga Mirth is OK for vacations, maybe.  By all means, pay the $80 for five classes, or buy a larger pass for another 20 that you will never ever use, and that cannot be transferred.  If that's not for you, you can roll up your mat and find a place to practice for free, or you can find a niche yoga studio and be their mirth.

It's up to the consumer, ultimately, because even though you can't take mirth to the bank, it is  the currency of businesses that offer yoga. Mine, yours and theirs.







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