Tag Archives: Massage Therapy and Bodywork

Another day another back rub

My last client was a little strange.  She’s an older woman, and one of those people who like a painfully deep massage.  She gave me a hug when it was over and didn’t want to let go.  She kept rubbing my back.  Not patting, but rubbing.  My brow furrowed and my eyes wondered around the room asking the question, “is this weird?”

She asked me a few questions and stared at me.

Her – “Who takes care of you?”

Me – “Um….”

I was about to say my parents take care of me, but that didn’t seem like the right response.  I spot my back buddy (a device used to massage my own back) and snatched it up.

Me – “My back buddy.  It works really well.  I don’t have enough time to get massages these days.”

She stared at me smiling.

I started using my back buddy.

Me – “….”

More staring.

Me – “It really works.”

Me – “I’m eating sushi for lunch.  I try to take care of myself.”

She rummaged around in her purse.

Me thinking “Oh good please pull out tip money and not a business card.”

She handed me a business card.

Her – “You should come see me.  I’m right down the street in Middletown.  I’ll give you a reflexology session on the house.”

My ears perk up whenever I hear the words “on the house.”

Me – “Oh thank you so much.  I’ll definitely come see you.  Thanks.”

She hugged me again.

Her – “That was wonderful what you did.”

She was referring to the massage.

When I give a massage, I like to make contact with the persons hands to form a connection.  And it feels really nice and comforting while I’m massaging their inner forearm.  It’s the only part of the massage where an intimate professional bond can be formed.  25% of men (possibly more), like to grasp my hand and hold it.  Sometimes caressing it, which sketches me out, but it’s usually innocent.  With women it’s more like 5% (if that).  She was a hand holder.

I never had reflexology before, and she didn’t leave me a tip so I feel like I should go do it.  Is this a bad idea?  I don’t know.  It was weird, you’re just going to have to trust me on that.

After the massage, I went into the break room for a little sushi lunch.  I ate a couple pieces and looked at the time.  12:30.  I’ll be here until 8:30 tonight.  I left the remainder of my sushi to save it for later.  I have to make it stretch.  My next client doesn’t get here until 2:30, so here I am blogging.  It’s 1:02 now.

I guess I should read a little.

After ordering business cards from Vista Print, they show you a bunch of little add-on’s you can choose from for cheap.  One of these add-on’s were stickers.  So I bought a bunch of stickers for my clients to stick on after getting a massage.

I found it ingenious.  I only offer them to tippers.

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, Strange & Unusual

How I cope with a break down

The Chi Rho monogram from the Book of Kells is...

The Chi Rho monogram from the Book of Kells is the most lavish such monogram (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my last post I proclaimed that I was going to finish my business website.  That nothing was stopping me from doing it and it had to be completed.  Well, I didnt do it.  Not even close, didn’t even try.  Dave called me as soon as I finished typing and got me out to Billy O’s with no twist of my arm.

I ran into Matt at Billy O’s and asked him where Kristie and Bosco where.

Matt – “They don’t like you anymore.  They are avoiding you.”

He said it in a funny way, so I laughed.

Me – “Oh well, what can you do.”

I take a long swig of my beer.

He then went on to tell me why Kristie doesn’t want to see me anymore, and it made sense.  Matt is a great speaker and communicator.

Matt – “It makes her sad when you tell her you can’t do something with her and then she looks on facebook and see’s you at a wedding with Dave, the guy she hates most in this world.”

Me – “I know but he’s my friend.  I can’t just ditch him for her.  What kind of person would that make me?”

Matt – “I understand.”

Me – “It hurts me that she’s doing this.”

Matt – “It’s a sucky situation.”

Me – “Everyone leaves me.  All my friends leave me.  It’s like, what’s even the point of anything anymore if I don’t have anyone to share it with?”

And that’s when I cracked.  I covered my mouth with my hand and started crying – not just tears welling up, but actually sputtering words and streaming tears.  I was absolutely fine seconds before, but my own words got to me because they’re true.  And said out loud makes them more real and felt.

Matt – “Oh come here.  It’s okay.”

He gave me a big hug.

Matt – “Just so you know, I will never leave you.  You’ll always have me.”

 I felt better after hearing that.  And his hug was amazing.  I love hugs.

The crying episode only lasted seconds – I don’t like to draw things out.  I let things out in one big burst and become immediately soothed when people comfort me.

I stayed at Billy’s till closing and had a good time the rest of the night.

I’ve been battling with this feeling of having nothing to live for, nothing to look forward to.  Even if I accomplish everything I set out to do, what’s the point?  There’s no point or happiness to anything.  Only beer and the bar.  And occasional hugs from Matt.

Later that night Matt called me to do a suicide check.

Matt – “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Me – “Oh yeah I’m fine.  I was referring to other people when I said what’s the point in living.  What’s the point in living their lives if all they do is push other people away?  That’s what I meant.”

Matt – “Ah okay, gotcha.”

I am 100% NOT suicidal.  Will NEVER be suicidal.  I never thought about it nor condone the act.  There is always something that can be done.  And I believe life is beautiful with bountiful love and gorgeous sunsets.  Suicide is selfish and cowardly.

I’m just going through a tough time is all.  I’m okay.

All that happened on the 24th, ten days ago.  I ended up finishing my website last Tuesday, two days ago.  I did it all in one sitting and it only taken a couple hours. 

I had to write about myself in the ABOUT page, and was flummoxed on to what to put.  On other massage therapists ABOUT page, they list all their credentials and training.  They make themselves out to be the omniscient gods of massage.  Snobby know-it-all millionaire therapists holding onto their cocktail wieners with a toothpick.  Daintily fingering their monical’s with one pinkie in the air.

I thought about what I can write about myself and came up with this:

Hi I’m Melanie!  I’m a graduate of CCMT.  I graduated middle of my class with no honors or achievements.  I taken a class in hot stone massage because my last job required it.  I’m horrible at pregnancy massage.  I don’t like administering deep tissue massage because I hate strenuous manual labor due to fear of exerting myself.  My hobbies are Netflix and spider solitaire.  I drink like a fish and my friends don’t speak to me anymore.  My highest achievement is that I can eat a hotdog underwater.

That about sums it up.  On my ABOUT page I focused not on my massage abilities, but on my joy of traveling and experiencing different things.  It sounds pretty cool and I’m happy with it.  I’m a great bullshitter, a real A in the hole.

Anyway, I finished my website and went to the bar and ran into friends I haven’t seen in a while.  I massaged both of them yesterday at my new office and made $120 in two hours.  Once the money was in my hands, I felt powerful and rich.

‘Holy shit $120 in two-hours?  This might stinkin’ work!’

I can honestly say that I love my new office.  I set it up perfect and don’t mind sitting there answering phones.  It’s my own business and I have all the answers to people’s questions.  I don’t need to relay messages or do secretarial stuff for others for free.  It’s bringing me closer to peace of mind and independency.  But again, what’s the point?

I just have to take one day at a time.  Slow down to a stroll and live life full measure.  I might be a small person, but my actions can be greater than me.  I’ll focus on my actions more.  Maybe that will give me something to look forward to.  ‘What great and many things will I do today?  Who will be in my radius to feel the benefits of my great and many actions?’

It’s the fourth of July and I’m laying in bed.  Unshowered in my old sweaty pajama’s.  I’m supposed to go to a fire pit tonight at a friends house, and I really should go, but I’m so damned tired and scared of who might be there.  Dave’s going and bringing Heather.  They are back together.  She’s just so God-awful annoying and all she does is nag Dave.  I hate listening to it.

Dave told a friend in secrecy that he’s only dating her again to make me jealous.  Poor Dave.  He should know by now that I don’t get jealous.  He can hurt me in other ways though, I’m not invulnerable to feelings of hurt.

I’m too tired to put up with people today, but I can’t escape it.  I went out last night and drank myself into oblivion, so today I am reset.  Tired and can sleep guilt-free. 

I had to run an errand with a friend earlier today and told her to wake me up with a phone call otherwise I will sleep till 2.  She called at 1 and I was still sleeping and groggy when I answered.

Her party started 18 minutes ago.  I better take a shower.

Two days ago I was in bad shape.  I was searching the internet for something to get me excited and happy again.  You remember how you felt as a kid when Christmas was approaching?  Pure bliss mixed with impatience.  Happiness, radiance, twinkling lights, snowmen, hot chocolate, loved one’s.  I want that feeling again.  I want the wonderland and the whole shebang.

I found a website offering people the chance to live amongst the Lakota Indians and take part in their rituals and ceremony’s.  They have a re-birthing ceremony where I’ll go into a small little hut and sweat my brains out, inhale some magic smoke, see spirits and shit and then come out a new and improved individual.  I’ll also be experimenting with yopo nuts and some other herbal hallucinogens.  We’ll be sitting around camp fires passing around a peace pipe, banging drums and watching ritualistic dancing.  It’s a mind trip and supposed to be cleansing and very spiritual.

It takes place in Columbia, South America and is the most authentic, traditional place available for white people to experience ancient shamanic customs.  So what do I do?  I sign myself up for it, that’s what I do.  I leave August 3rd, only a mere four weeks away.  I’ll see if I can capture some video for you guys.

I don’t know what I’m getting myself into now….

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Filed under journal, Massage therapy, Self help, Travel

Time for my daily rant

Act of giving the finger.

Act of giving the finger. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I taken karate classes starting when I was 9 years old all the way up till I was 16 and one of my instructors was a cop from my hometown.  I will call this cop Officer N.  Officer N became a family friend.  My brother also taken karate classes before me, so this guy has known my family for years.

About 13 or 14 years ago, I was driving down a street near my house when out of nowhere a car pulls out in front of me.  I had to slam on my breaks to stop myself from T-boning him.  My adrenalin kicked on so I instinctively flipped him off – it was the one and only time I’ve ever done that.

As my middle finger lingered in the air, I got my first good look at the culprits face.  He was no more than 10 yards away and had his window rolled down.  He had a thick cop mustache and big cop glasses – “Oh shit that’s Officer N!”

Well, it may have been, but I’m still not sure.

My finger pissed him off so much so that he started chasing after me.  I was a dumb 18-19 year old with a fresh license, stuck in a high pursuit chase thru my little town of Cheshire.  My heart raced, I was trembling – but at the same time I kinda liked it.  I was never really scared of him catching me, I knew he couldn’t – I just knew.  And besides, what could he have done to me?  Bump my bumper and beep?  Or get out of his car and pummel me with a bat?  Pshhh, yah right.

I had no fear of driving at that age so I easily maneuvered my way in and out of cars, creating my own lanes and even running red lights.  I finally lost him when I pulled into the Watch Factory outlets and parked.  I slouched down in the seat of my 1988 Z-24 piece of shit car.

Okay so back to present time.

I’m sitting in work yesterday, at the massage clinic, and I get a phone call from none other than Officer N wanting to get in for a massage.  I haven’t seen him in about 17 years.  I’m to give him a massage tomorrow.

Anyway…..

I sat in work yesterday and he was the only phone call during the four hours I was sitting for free – for free!  This is my brothers fiance’s business.  That’s why I do it.  Then she texted me asking to swing by her house to let out their three big dogs.  But I don’t live anywhere near them!

They did this to me last year.  Asking me to let out the dogs and to house-sit for them at least once a week if not more – and I did it.  I did it because I didn’t think they would take advantage of me by asking so much – it pissed me off.  So I told her no, I won’t let out her dogs and now my parents are hounding me about it like I’m the bad guy.

Also my Mom is telling me not to open my own business because “times are tough and there wouldn’t be any clients.”  When really she just wants me to stay here working for M, my bro’s fiancé.

Me – “So I shouldn’t follow my dreams and be successful?”

Mom – “I’m not saying that, just that there are so many spa’s out there now.  You won’t get anyone.”

My own mother doesn’t believe in me and I’m a bitch for not letting the dogs out.

Shit….Sorry, just had to rant.

I’m bored.  And a bit hungover.

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Filed under journal, Massage therapy, rant

My funny resignation letter and dealing with a bitch and a man-baby

I’m officially sick of my job.  Not the actual act of massaging, no.  But sick of the place itself.  You want to know where I work?  Fine, I’ll tell you!  Massage Envy Ct phone number……..I won’t give you the phone number, but it’s easy enough to find.

Where should I start?  I’ll start at the very beginning.  The beginning of my misery and the downfall of the little clinic I loved so dear.  This all started with the hiring of a 56-year-old phony, bullshitting – busybody, Christina.

I wrote about her before.  She’s the woman who got upset at me for not wanting to do massage exchanges with her (you can read about that here).  She asked me if it’s because I don’t like people touching me.  Pffffff, the nerve.

I didn’t like her then, and I STILL don’t!  And I tried to like her.  I honestly have tried, but I swear this woman hates me.  And when I tell my coworkers how much she hates me, they say no, “She’s like that to everyone.”

The way she talks to her clients is so shrill and fake, anyone with a vague insight into the human psyche can see it.

She’s bouncy.  You know what I mean?  She goes to greet a client in the tranquillity room with about five or six clients silently waiting in there and she bounces on the couch next to her client and says:  “So are you ready?!  Are you ready to get your massage?!”  And she’s sitting/bouncing on the couch at the same time.  My coworker did an impression of her doing it, you have to see it to fully understand.

She likes to lecture people and “teach” them.  She like’s to greet new clients by saying, “Hi I’m Christina.  I’m the lead therapist and I only been working here since June, tee hee hee.”  Again, my coworker was doing an impression.  Funny as hell.  “But nobody wanted the position!  That’s the only reason she got it!”  My coworkers get just as worked up over her as I do.

I was offered the role of lead therapist and I knew that if I didn’t accept, I would have to put up with Christina hovering over me and bossing me around.  I knew (and I mean ESP knew) that my decision to turn down the role of top banana would cause me to quit.  I just knew it – I know things like that.  I also knew I didn’t want to stay there forever, or deal with Jeff on a regular basis.  So I said no thanks.

Have I describe Christina well enough?  Can you picture her yet?  She is ceaselessly annoying, talks over others non-stop for hours on end.  And since she’s the lead therapist, it’s her job to get all of us subordinates to adhere to her strict policy of up-selling.  “SELL SELL SELL!”  Her  glistening chin protruding and her eyes bulge.  “I sold my first enhancement of the day tee hee hee.”

I’m not so swift to listen to her lecture’s.  I either leave the room while she’s talking, or zone out and play on my phone.  Our “enhancements” mean that for an extra $12 you can get two hot wet towels applied to your back, or for an extra $10, you can get 12 drops of essential oil mixed into our regular all-purpose lotion.  That’s what it is spoken plainly and candidly, but the way the franchise hypes it up, even the therapist’s buy into it!  When I mention it to my clients, I can and usually do sell it if I want to, but it’s a rip-off and I won’t adhere to ripping people off.

Christina wants to write us a sales pitch and have us memorize it so we can give the spiel to our clients.  “Isn’t that a lovely idea?  Tee hee hee.”  Just writing her laugh is annoying!

Okay, so anyway, I don’t want to make this post too long, so I’ll try to make it quick.

Last week I gave a massage to a man-baby.  What I mean by man-baby is that this fully grown man had the body of a baby.  I shit-you-not!  Yes he was obese, but as I said before, I don’t think twice about obese clients.  There are as many of them as there are people of “average” weight.  To me, a body is a body, but a baby-man-body is something I take notice of!

It was as if he never stepped outside a uterus before.  Or he was being intravenously fed by tube’s from The Matrix and was recently ejected out of the chute and into the real world with the first thing on his list, to get a massage.

He wanted deep tissue.  Okay, no problem.  I can do that.  I pressed the palms of my hands into his back.  I pressed down and then down some more and then down, down, down…….”What the fuck’s going on?  No resistance?  Where’s his muscle’s?  Where’s his bones?”  He was as squishy as a freshly baked doughnut.  Not so much squishy, as he was soft.  Squishy has resistance.  He was as soft as…..a fucking baby!  I don’t know how else to describe it.  He was certainly unlike anything I’ve ever seen or massaged before.  Unreal, really.

The way I like to give (and get) deep tissue massage is that I massage very hard, only the muscles that are of a rock hard density.  This apparently wasn’t going to happen for this guy.  He was built like a snowman.

And his personality even sounded like a baby.  Sort of a bratty, “baby wants his binkie” or “baby did a doodie in his pants” kind of baby.  He was the largest, softest man-child I have ever laid hands on and it gave me the willies’ when I sunk my elbow down into his guts.  Gleh…..

I’m not usually this shallow and mean spirited, but this guy was a strange one.  For the whole massage I was thinking, “how the hell am I supposed to massage him?  How?”

About a week later my boss, Linda, told me that baby-man filled out an email follow-up questionnaire and emailed it back to the franchise.

Me – “Oh Jesus.”

Linda – “It’s okay, not a big deal.  He just said that he wished you used more pressure, but he was too afraid to ask.”

Too afraid to ask?  F*cking baby.

And that was it.  “No bid deal” she says.  So I brushed it off.  It was my first negative feedback I received in two years.

But it didn’t end there.  Christina heard about what happened and it was her way in.  She found a chink in my otherwise impenetrable armor, and dug he claws.

She set up a training session with me.  I saw it on my schedule when I walked into work yesterday.  I point to the screen and say “What the hell is this?”

“It’s a practical with me!  Tee hee hee.”

Me – “For what?”

Christina – “We’re just going to go over some protocol’s, draping procedure’s and that sort of thing.  Don’t worry, I’m easy.  Here, you can even look over what I’ll be grading you on.”

She hands me a chart with questions each having a scale from 1 to 5 beside each question.

What the fuck is this?

Me – “Is this from that one guy who complained about me last week?”

Christina – “Yes, Jeff take’s all complaints very seriously.”

Me – “So I get one complaint in two years and I have to take a practical exam?”

Christina – “I’m sure you had other complaints besides that one.”

Me – “Have I?  How would I find that out?”

Christina – “They tell you verbally about each complaint and send you an email copy of the clients questionnaire they filled out.”

Me – “I’ve never gotten any email sent to me and Linda only told me about that one guy.”

Christina – “……..Jeff’s reinforcing his policy’s.”

She giggle’s and takes a bite out of her wrap.  That’s the other thing, she is always eating.  She claims she’s on a  diet but I always see her stuffing her face.  And she brings into work this really gross, homemade funky, gunky drink in a mason jar.  She leaves it out sitting on the break room table all day and you can see the chunks in it separating and rising to form a jelly like crust on the surface.

“What the fuck is this?”  Is an expression that runs repeatedly in my head through out the day.

That was the conversation practically word for word.  Still burned into memory.  By the time we started my practical, it was already 17 minutes into the massage, she wanted full body and the rip-off enhancement they call “Deep Heat Muscle Therapy.”

I wanted to throw up my hands and say fuck it I’m out, but I had clients and I was sort of stuck.  I gave her the massage, she talked the entire time – loud talk “tee hee hee” talk.  I undraped one of her legs and tuck the sheet under her thigh as I normally do, and she says that’s the wrong way.

“Massage Envy’s policy is the diaper drape.”

She raises her leg in the air (she was face up at this point) way higher than necessary that it made me uncomfortable and I wondered what the hell she was doing with her leg up so high.  She pulled the sheet up so it was snug against her crotch.

“Te he, that’s better.”

This woman, goddammit, I seen the way she drapes and this is NOT it.  When we have couple’s massages together, she uncovers the entire side of the body – from feet to head.  One butt cheek perfectly exposed.  Is that Massage Envy draping?  No!  It’s “I want to glide my hands up and down your naked body” kind of draping.

Damn, I didn’t want to make this a long post…..shit.

To wrap it up, she expressed to Linda, my boss, that I need extra training according to the grades she gave me on the chart.  I was so infuriated beyond words, beyond my breaking point.  I had a shit-fit and started telling everyone what was happening.  I told them about the one guy that complained last week, and how it led up to this.

Coworker – “She  does it to everyone, sweetie.  Don’t worry, we’re all on your side.”

I couldn’t be subdued.  I was hot, I was sweating.  My coworkers patted me on the back, gave me hugs.  But by the end of the night, I decided I wanted out.  It’s quitting time for this lotion slinger.

To top the night off, I had to give a couple’s massage with Christina.  This couple, husband and wife, love me enough to move around their schedule in order to stay on mine.  The husband requested me this time.  The wife didn’t request Christina, she just ended up with her.

After their massage, they got dressed and met us in the hallway to chat and drink the complimentary cup of water.

Wife – “We won’t be seeing you next month because we’re going away.”

I asked them where they were going and told them I won’t be around either because I’m going on a month long vacation.

Husband – “Oh really?  Where?”

During this time, Christina was trying to talk over us, but the wife and I tuned her out – even the Husband tuned her out.  It was awesome!

Me – “Nepal.”

Wife – “Oh my God I knew that!  How did I already know that?!”

Her mouth hangs open and she stares at me.

Me – “I’m not sure, I only found out a few weeks ago.  I haven’t seen you since then.”

Wife – “I’m very intuitive, but that’s just plain weird.  I can’t believe I knew that!”

The husband chuckled.  Christina finally gave up trying to talk over people.

Me – “Do you sense the trip will be okay?”

Wife – “Yes!  It will be great!  You will have a wonderful time.”

She was being so sincere.  I could tell she was stunned by her telepathy and the way she looked at me made us share a sudden bond.  People like Christina will never experience that.

Christina is not a bad person, she really isn’t.  She like’s to cut people down, blow herself up, lie – any idiot can see that.  She has mental issue’s.  Even a client once called Christina “crazy” after getting a massage from her.  But just because she has text-book psychosis’, doesn’t make her bad a bad person.

But anyway, I’m quitting.  I spent two years working there anyway and I never stay at a job for longer than two years.   I either leave out of boredom or annoyance.  This time it’s a little of both.

Oh and Christina also told me that Jeff, the owner, was going to fire me!  But he didn’t because Christina told him not to because it wouldn’t be fair.  HA!  She’s such a scammer!  Everything is so phony about her.

When I got home, I wrote my letter of resignation:

 

At first I was trained
I was certified
Kept thinking I could never work
without Envy by my side
But I spent these past few hours
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on!
and so I quit
from the Envy

I walked out of Christina’s lecture
left that look upon her face

I should have changed my stupid job
I should have wrote a new CV
If I had known for just one second
I would be quitting Massage Envy!
Go now go
I’m out the door
Just turn around now
’cause you’re not working anymore

Weren’t YOU the one who tempted me with free CEU’s?
You think I’d crumble
You think I’d give in for nickel and dimes?
Oh no, not I
I will resign
as long as I know how to rub
I know I will be fine
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got both my hands to give
and I’ll resign

It took all the strength I had not to disappear
kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken career
and so I spent oh so many minutes just feeling sorry for myself
I used to try
Now I hold my hands up high!

And now you see
Somebody new
I’m not that chained up little person
filling in gumballs just for you 
(has to do with selling enhancements)
and so you hoped I may conform or
just expect me to leave quietly
now I’m saving all my knowledge
for someone else who’s paying me,
……..more money!!!!!

– I Will Resign!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Um, okay, I thought about it and I’m not actually going to use that as my resignation letter.

So I wrote this instead;

Dear Linda,

I regret to inform you that I must part ways with Massage Envy.  It was a very easy decision, although a sad one.  I will write out a listed documentation of the reasons for my leaving.  Hopefully you will see things from my point of view.

  • I have recently been told by the head therapist that the only reason I’m still working there is because Jeff thought it would be unfair to fire me without a proper warning.  This was a shock to me.  I felt very threatened, and still do.
  • What I find to be unfair is not receiving any information about client complaints.  In the past two years, I have been told of one complaint, and that was last week.  Since then I have corrected the problem from occurring again.  Only yesterday did I find out that there were many other complaints.  I had no knowledge of them and therefore I’m left with little chance of correcting my mistakes and growing as a therapist.
  • I feel that the new added pressure to sell has gone beyond my comfort level.  If a client says no the first time, I let them be.  It is also hard for me to sell something that I find to be overpriced and overhyped (12 drops of oil for $10?  Two hot towels for $12?).  I also heard from the lead therapist that we are going to start utilizing a prepared sales pitch to give each client before every massage about the add-on’s.  The massage is only 50 minutes, and now their time will be cut even shorter by listening to a very poor sales pitch from a desperate, scared therapist.
  • I do not feel safe and secure in my job anymore.
  • I’m starting to doubt my abilities and my choice of career.
  • I’m losing sleep and feel stressed.
  • I hear complaints from other therapist’s.  Our turnover rate is increasing which is going to decrease clients.  I know of several therapists who are trying to make their way out.  Several already left with having similar complaints as mine.
  • I’m getting paid $16 dollars an hour, which is what I agreed to.  But under the new pressures and circumstances, the dollar amount is exceedingly low.
  • There are no benefits for working at Massage Envy.  Even for someone who’s been there for two years still has no job security or job growth.  And as of late, no appreciation.
  • I am no longer my happy, joyful self.
  • I am a gifted, dynamic, intuitive, loving person who feels that Massage Envy can no longer meet my level of requirement.  I have only one level, and that is enjoyment of my job.

I have already a job in my hometown that pays double for what Massage Envy pays.  The owner says that I am more than welcome to work as much as I like and pick my own hours.  My plan is to start my own business when I arrive back home after trekking the Himalayas for a month. 

Letting go of something I once loved, brings about more love and expansion. 

That is why I must let you go.

Peace out cub scout,

Melanie

Is that harsh? Am I an asshole or am I an asshole?  Fuck, who care’s.  Seriously though, I really do have another job.  The only thing I don’t like about my other job is that I have to sit and answer phones, do laundry for free.  But if I can get at least 10 clients a week there, I’ll be making the same amount of money that I do at Envy, plus I don’t have to drive all the way to Glastonbury.

I told my parents all about Christina and my mom said that she knew people just like her, “That woman’s a bitch.  Don’t listen to her.”  Thanks mom!  It’s times like these that I’m thankful I still live at home.  They don’t ask for rent, they stick up for me and call my nemesis’ bitches for me.  I love them!

I could do without all the whistle’s and my dad pointing at me telling me I’m going to get raped and murdered and nobody will be there to help me in Nepal.  But I tell ya, when it comes down to it, I choose them over a husband and kid’s.  For now anyway….While I can.

And now your moment of zen:

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Filed under humor, journal, Massage therapy, rant

I’m a Goddamned Vixen I tell you!

Goddamned (album)

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I got to massage my cute plane crash survivor yesterday.  He requested a two hour massage with me and we talked the entire time.  This is the second time I massaged him and already we’re facebook friends.

Okay, this is nuts.  Really nuts!  I don’t get crushes on anybody.  I especially don’t get crushes on clients – never actually!

I seen his name on my schedule when I showed up for work (an hour late!  But I won’t get into that), and I was happy to see him on there.  I contained my happiness by bottling it up good and tight because he’s a client just like everyone else.  No different.

Why should he be any different, right?

But he IS different.  Goddamnit I have a crush.  It’s unavoidable.  We have so much crap in common it’s ridiculous.  Our thought’s are the same.

I greeted him and lead him out of the tranquility room.  He followed me down the hall to our little massage room when I asked him, “Last time I massaged you, did I keep calling you Martin?”

Martin (not his real name) – “Ha, no.  I think I would’ve remembered that.  If I heard you call me Martin, I would’ve corrected you.”

“Oh okay good.  For some reason I thought your name was Martin.”

The first time I massaged him, I tried looking him up on facebook and I even googled his name trying to find an article about his plane crash, but forgot his real name and kept googling Martin.  I didn’t find anything.

We walked into the massage room and started talking about the movie’s we watched on Netflix.  I told him to watch Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead for his “homework” and he did.  He even went on Amazon, bought a juicer and started his cleanse.

Martin – “How’s your cleanse doing?”

Me – “Oh, I uh…….I haven’t started it yet.”

Martin – “You haven’t started it?!  But you made such a big deal of it!”

He started laughing at me.  I felt so guilty – really guilty for not doing it.  We went on for a few more minutes talking before I got him undressed and on the table – we were cutting into his two-hours with silly chatter.

I get him on the table and the massage commences.

We both had the same thought’s about settling down.  I told him that by the time I’m ready to settle, I’ll marry a divorced guy already equipped with self-sufficient children who will then become my children so I don’t need to go through any labor and all the hard parts will be done.

Martin had a name for this.  He called it Instant Family and he already thought of it.

Martin – “I just think that the best time of your life happens when you’re young.  So you should enjoy it now while you can.  I’m not ready to settle and don’t know when I ever will be.”

Me – “Yes!  I feel the same way.  When I’m old, I’ll marry into a family so I’ll never be lonely.”

He kept laughing at me.  Everything I said sounded adorable – but I didn’t realize this at first.  I was just being my normal self, saying my normal everyday jibber-jabber when I couldn’t help noticing he was laughing at almost everything I said.  I tried seeing myself from his point of view and listening to myself speak and that’s when I realized how adorable I sounded.  I talk this way to everyone – my friends, my parents – everyone.  But this is the first time I experienced my own loveable nature.  It made me nervous, so I stopped talking so much and played it cool.  I mean, I didn’t want him to think I was being adorable on purpose (because I wasn’t).

I felt zen in those two hours.  No worries, no pretensions – just two honest and good people enjoying good honest conversation.

Damn crushes.  I hate them.  No crushes, school!  I need focus on school!

I’m planning on going to school after I start up my own business.  I can make my own hours, double my income and work less.  My business comes first – then I’ll take that god forsaken placement exam.

Martin thought of the name for my new business, Air Touch.  I’m going to buy an oxygen bar and strap it up to my clients during their massage.  It will have aromatherapy combined with pure mind numbing oxygen.  I priced them starting at $2,000.

Air Touch is a perfect name because it will come first in the alphabet and first in the searches!

Anywho, I massaged for five hours and went home.  Dave called me up wanting to go out.  I wasn’t in the social mood, but was hungry and didn’t see Dave in a while, so we went out.

I wanted to avoid Billy O’s because I didn’t feel like talking to anyone there (plus my brother hates Dave), but that’s where we ended up because Slider’s was packed.  It was 7 pm at Billy’s and slowly the normal crew dribbles in.

Dave and I were chatting with this old guy who seemed harmless at first, but then started getting touchy with me.  Dave left to go home and I was stuck with this old guy for a few minutes.  My bar friends intervened and kept him far away from me for the rest of the night – they even walked me to my car for fear the old guy was going to nab me.

Bar friend – “He smells like shit!  He stunk up the whole bathroom – it smells putrid in there and he still wreaks of it!”

The old guy had horrible gas – I mean the worst I ever encountered, and I encountered a lot.

Then the unprecedented happened.  I got hit on by the least likely person I knew there.

First off, I just have to clear the air and say that I am NOT pretty – not beautiful – not anything special.  I’m average at best and that’s when I’m wearing makeup and dressing like a normal person instead of my usual Hobo look.  And I’m not fishing for compliments here so please refrain from commenting on my looks, thanks.

Last night I was tired from work, probably had sauce all over my face from eating several chicken wings – which were delicious btw – I was wearing bulky layers.  A big bulky thermal over a t-shirt and then my hefty hoodie I bought in Savannah.  The bottom half of me was the sexy part.  Skinny jeans tucked into my nearly knee-high black leather boots with my phone and electronic cig shoved inside.  Sexy indeed.

I was standing at the bar talking to an old high school friend.  A popular girl in my grade that I thought was oh so cool.  We got thrown together in the same classes, worked at Stop & Shop together and our brothers are friends, her husband plays pool with me on Tuesdays, so fate keeps us crossing paths.

It was this girls brother who hit on me.

This guy is a family friend.  Any of my brother’s long-time friends I refer to as family friends.  He has a cocky, arrogant way about him, sort of like he’s a republican politician – you know what I mean?  He has blonde hair, sleepy blue bedroom eyes.  He’s not a bad looking guy, but I never thought of him like that.

The guy – “That guy you came here with what’s his name, Dave?  He was saying some horrible negative stuff about you.”

In all honesty, if Dave was saying anything bad about me, I wouldn’t take it to heart or get upset.  If he said anything bad, he would’ve had a really good reason for it and whatever his reason, I would understand.

Me – “Really?  Like what?”  I said this with a confused smirk.  The kind of smirk that say’s I’m above caring.

The guy – “It was just not good.  Really negative.”

For some reason, I wasn’t buying it.  But then I wondered why someone like him, a family friend, would lie about something like this.  It just didn’t make sense to me.  As I was thinking this, as though he read my thoughts, he says, “I have no reason to lie to you, I’m just looking out for you.  Your brother doesn’t like him and he’s a great judge of people.”

That didn’t help in convincing me.

Me – “Oh, I know.  It’s just that he must have had a good reason.”

The guy – “You know, to me – you are like an angel.  A pure angel.”

Uh oh.  Oh no.  Now it made sense.  He likes me!  But how?  Why?  How can this be and what the hell do I do about it?  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

The guy – “I would really like it if you gave me a chance.  Let me take you to dinner.”

Me – “Oh wow I had no idea……That’s really nice, I mean, for you to ask.”

He went on and on about how much of an angel I am and that he’s good friends with my brother.  I just stood there not knowing what to say.  I literally couldn’t think of anything to say to the guy.  I need to plan for things like this in advance.  The only thing I planned for was what to do with unwanted kisses.  If someone tried kissing me I would say to them “it’s not a good idea.”  Kisses are easy to flake off, but this is something that would require more than “it’s not a good idea.”  I would have to explain why it’s not good.

Me – “You had a lot to drink tonight.  Seriously, a lot.  Really.”

The guy – “You think that’s what it is?  No, no.  From the first moment I saw you, I thought you were an angel.”

We talked like this for 10 or 15 minutes.  My bar friends, the one’s who were helping to keep the farty old man away, had to turn on one of their own and keep their guy away.

I never asked for their help to keep the stinky old man away, but they were adamant about it.  I didn’t see any harm in him, but they remained diligent and told me to stay far from him.  Now, almost the same thing was happening with their friend.  His sister who was a few feet from us comes over and tells him he has to go.  Now.

High school friend – “Come on I started the car.  Let’s go.”

The guy ignored her at first, but five minutes later she was back again to get him.  I was so thankful.  I couldn’t keep up the charade of answering his question by not answering his question.

Me – “Yeah, I’m leaving too.  It’s late.”

It was almost two in the morning.

I was hammered at the bar.  Dave insisted on two shots, old man bought me another beer – hammered!  I drank water for the last two hours I was there and I felt better, just tired as hell.  I’m always tired as hell after sobering up.

I drove home relatively safe and slept like a baby for the next ten hours.  I woke up at two pm today and went to Sushi Palace with Oriana and her son, then back to her house per her son’s persisting insistence, to watch a movie.

Now I’m laying in bed again feeling like it’s going to be another ten hour sleep for me.  I must silence my phone, turn off the lights.  Watch one episode of Mushi-shi before sleep in my warm cushy bed.  Martin watches Mushi-shi.  Martin……goddamnit.

Maybe I’ll get a massage tomorrow.  I can get one once a month for free at my job.

My life is so freaking easy.  So FUCKING easy!  Shit yo, you can hate me.  I hate me too.  I hate how helpless I’m going to be when I’m older.  I feel sorry for my future self.

But I love this.  I love laying in bed before I sleep, just knowing that I can sleep for as long as I like – not have to do anything tomorrow if I damned-well don’t feel like it.  I LOVE it!

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No massage for you buddy, sorry

Everyday I faithfully pack up my good ol’ trusty laptop into my Hollister handbag and head off to work.  Everyday I lug it with me with the hope of getting an hour break to blog, but the break rarely comes.  The only reason why I’m sitting here in Starbucks is because my client cancelled.  He called and cancelled 15 minutes into his hour, so that leaves me about 10 minutes to type.

I’m feeling bitchy today.  I have this friend who is dating a boy who has a brother who has a crush on me.  He received a one hour massage gift certificate (for his birthday) from his brother.  He wants me to give him the massage.  I’m feeling bitchy because I told the girls at the front desk to tell this boy that I don’t feel comfortable massaging him.  I feel bad, but shit……  If you knew him you would understand.

The guy – “Can I have your number?”

Me – “Yeah but I never answer call’s so it’s kinda pointless.”

He doesn’t pick up on social queue’s.

Every minute I spend chatting with him, he tell’s me how much he loves my eyes – literally, once a minute.  If I massaged him, it would only exacerbate his desire for me and lead to ultimate disaster – or maybe not.  Maybe I’m just being a pretentious bitch trying to wriggle herself out of an awkward hour.

He doesn’t really like me anyway.  He likes that I’m always nice to him and pay attention to him.  I make him feel good.  When I’m out at a bar drinking, I tend to make everyone feel loved and wanted.  It’s never aimed at anyone specific, just generally everyone.  And I sincerely DO care for him, but if he caught me at a place where there wasn’t any alcohol, I probably wouldn’t be so nice.  Just my tired, usual self.

I attract people who need people.  This happens because I’m open and genuine with my love and attention, it sucks people in.  Then I’m left feeling like a guilty bastard the next day for ignoring their calls and/or texts.

This is a random text from him and maybe you can get a feel for who he is:

Whats your favorite music/artist, thank you for smiling.  My favorite coller is blue, yours is purple.

I don’t know this guy that well.  He may have emotional problems, but I can’t be certain.  I just don’t want him to feel hurt, but more importantly I don’t want him to feel hurt and flip out at me next time I see him.

So, when he calls to schedule his massage, he will know that I don’t want to massage him.  He’ll either get angry and freak, or be sad and sullen.  I’m hoping the latter.  Hopefully he will understand that it’s unprofessional to massage someone who’s lusting after me.  It’s unprofessional and weird for the therapist.  But he doesn’t seem like he would understand that.

I have to go back to work damn it.  I can seriously sit here for seven hours just typing the shit out of my blog.

I’ve been playing video games and reading instead of writing, but all this information crap keeps building on up in my head that I’m sure to experience another exploding head episode.

This post doesnt encompass the whole story of anything.  It’s crap I tell you!

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Lost post

Massage in Frankfurt, Germany

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I found this unpublished post in my draft folder.  I wrote it last week:

It’s midnight and I’m laying in bed reading “The Road Less Traveled.”  No, I am not done reading it yet.  I know it’s been a while since I started it, but I’m really letting it sink in.  And I read slow. 

I’m super tired – I could sleep right now.   I just put 10 ear drops in my left ear because something awful is cooking up inside there, but you don’t need to know about that.  Just be aware that I have little green men pounding on my eardrum and I’m not exactly sure what they’re capable of.

This book is really something.  It’s telling me things that I already knew, I just forgot I knew – or things that were too cloudy to see properly because there’s too much debris floating around in my head (thanks to the little green men).

Okay, I know how this is going to sound, but I’m just going to say it – I send out loving energy to my clients when I massage them.  Despite the times when I find it unbearable to give a massage, as long as I keep the intention of pure, genuine love for the client, the massage turns into something spectacular every single time.  My body moves without me telling it where to move.

“The Road Less Traveled” says that all therapy must be backed with love in order for it to be successful – ALL therapy.  He broadens the term ‘therapy’ to include small stuff like friendly, honest conversation.  I love mostly everyone, so this isn’t much of a stretch. 

When I meet a client who looks like no one touched them in a really long time, someone who can be overlooked, taken for granted – when I massage these people, even just the slightest touch can bring a huge smile to their face that they have no hope at concealing – and at the end of the massage, they start laughing.  They start laughing for no apparent reason other than they’re happy.  They’re happy because for just that one brief hour, a complete stranger was able to love and appreciate them. 

It’s truly amazing – and it brings me awe when I witness it.  Okay, so maybe I do secretly love my job, that doesn’t make me married to it.  But I am learning from it, and it’s broadening my heart. 

I can make people fall asleep.  I can make most people fall asleep just by sending out the intention.  On days when I’m exhausted and can’t exert my full-fledging love, I give what I call the “sleeper” massage.  This massage has a 90% success rate of putting people to sleep.  They fall asleep within minutes, sometime seconds after I decide to put them to sleep.  It’s really amazing.

Sometimes I mix the two modes of intention, starting with love in the beginning, then I put them to sleep, then I wrap it up with more warmth and love while I massage their neck and head.  The tips are great when I do this.

I don’t send out these intentions when I massage friends – I’m not sure why that is.  Maybe they know that I love them already.  And I don’t feel like sending out more love if I don’t have to.  Truthfully, it can be tiring.

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The Road Less Traveled

Cover of "The Road Less Traveled"

Cover of The Road Less Traveled

I’m laying in bed quite comfortably and trying to read The Road Less Traveled.  I bought it at a tag sale a few months back for 50 cents and I still can’t get past the first page without spacing out in deep thought.

On the first page, the author, M. Scott Peck, mentions the first of the Four Noble Truths – “Life is Suffering”.  It is the first truth that Buddha taught.  He said that once this first truth is accepted, life would be less difficult.

I spaced out after reading that.  I already knew about Buddha’s Four Noble Truths, but can never seem to remember them.

According to Silvia Browne, she also tells us that life is meant to be difficult.  We come here in hopes of growing spiritually by confronting challenges.

I was challenged twice today by my clients.  One of them being that Russian lady, and the other was my last client of the day – a black guy who wanted a deep tissue sports massage to his legs only.  Sports massage involves a lot of heavy lifting on my part and deep muscle manipulation.  I have to pick up his heavy legs, manuever them around and stretch them – it’s an unpleasant arduous task with little rewards.

I read his client in-take form.  The last therapist who worked on him wrote that he complained a lot and would not let her do her job.    I thought he sounded like a prick, but I shrugged my shoulders and went to get him out of the tranquility room.  He tells me what he wants, and I flippantly say, “Okay you got it.”

I’m a hard person to rattle.  I confront most challenges with not exactly confidence, but a commitment to do my job well, and if they don’t like it, tough shit. 

I grudgingly accept these difficult clients and think of them more like a nuisance rather than a divine challenge bestowed upon me by Buddha’s first Noble Truth.  I’ve  been doing this job for quite some time now, afterall.

Oh no I think I’m rambling.  It’s 1:30 in the morning and I haven’t slept in more than 24 hours.  I’m not supposed to be writing because it gives me insomnia, but oh well.

Anyway, this man, knowing full-well that he was going to be stretched out, thought it a good time to leave off his knickers.  He’s the second black guy of all time to let his cheeks hit the sheets.  Stretching someone’s leg out in all direction with nothing but a sheet covering the trouser snake, well, it’s a daunting task to say the least.

But I remained unrattled.  I was more perturbed than challenged.  I draped him the exact same way I draped the Russian, only this time I turned the lights down really low as a precaution in case anything popped out.

Seriously, what are people thinking when they do things?  What am I thinking when I write things?

Oh yeah my point is that after massaging difficult clients, my regular massage (the massage that I give everyone) is extraordinarily easy to give.  But I digress.  I digress because I’m freakin’ tired and digressing is a term used by sophisticated people (such as myself) who think that whatever they’re saying is gold and they’re so sorry to have to displease everyone by shutting up.

I’ll attempt to read page two of this book tomorrow.

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My wages

Let’s put my wages into perspective, shall we?

I make $15 for each massage that I give. 

My place of employment charges $98 for a one hour massage ($60 for members).  I make 15% of what they make, 25% when the client is a member.

Let’s say I give 4 massages for $98 a pop, that’s $392.  At $15 a massage, I make $60.  After massaging 4 people, I still can’t afford a massage.  I would need to massage for 6.5 hours before earning myself a one hour massage.  And technically I still can’t afford a massage because taxes are taken out of my pay and I would need to leave a tip of at least $15.  So I need to massage 8 people – 8 people before I can afford one massage!

Now let’s talk about tips.  Tip’s are a gesture of gratitude.

I like to associate tips with McDonalds cheeseburgers or starbucks latte’s.  If a client leaves me $5, she’s saying that my massage was equal to enjoying one starbucks latte, or 5 cheeseburgers from the dollar menu at McDonalds.

If they leave me $20, I can buy two movie tickets.  Or a pack of smokes and a movie ticket.  Or 5 cheeseburgers, a pack of smokes and a starbucks latte – not bad for one hour of work.

I know it doesn’t seem like a lot, but all I have to do when I’m here is massage and nothing else.  I worry about NOTHING.  No washing or folding sheets, no scheduling crap.  And the overhead fee’s to run the place are incredible I can imagine.  All in all, I say my wages are fair.  They allow a bit of room for pay advancements.  If they weren’t fair, I would’ve quit a long time ago.

I came into work today and right away I’m greeted with a pay raise.  I’m not suppose to tell anyone how much it is, but it’s a little something.

It’s my feng shui – my prosperity corner is taking effect.  It’s so weird because I did nothing to provoke a raise.  The thought ran through my mind as I added some purple to my corner, but I didn’t dwell on it.  Crazy it may actually work.

So I’m happy.  My last client was strange, but I’m happy.

I’m on my couch sipping, no, chugging my latte.  I have three more clients.

One of my co-workers was talking about Dickens’ Cider today.  It’s the first I ever heard of it.  It’s an apple cider energy drink.  I looked it up online and there’s a funny commercial for it.

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My September eleventh 2010

I love love LOVE my job when I like my clients.  And lately I’ve been loving all who enter my little walled-in oasis. 

I’m learning how to be a remarkable listener – using all my senses to listen, not just with my ears.  I also figured out that the majority of massage has to do with energy.  The quality of my touch is completely dependant on my energy.  What I do with my hands is ancillary (a word I learned from my bathroom book, it means secondary.  Why don’t I just say secondary?  Because I’m pompous).

I massaged a woman with lymphatic cancer today.  She wanted most of the time spent on her neck – this is where they removed 20 lymph nodes and left a hefty scar.  After the surgery it hurt her just to wear a necklace.

I visualized my hands being warm and comforting with energy emitting from them.  Just the warmth alone feels good.  I gently massaged her neck for 25 minutes and by the end of the massage she was all smiles and thanked me like I saved her from something.  Nothing feels better than that.  What can possibly feel better than that?

I massaged an old woman today who told me the massage was amazing and wonderful.  She’s coming back next week for a 90 minute session.  This is all because I’m tapping into my new found energy.  It’s awesome.

I’m at Starbucks waiting for Bradd.  We’re supposed to be going out to eat and then going to see his play. 

Cool, he just got here.

“So this is where the magic happens?”  He’s referring to my blog.

“Yes.  Yes it is.  This is my table.”

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