why yes, I DO have a great massage story to tell...

When people find out that I'm a massage therapist, one of two things always happens.  Either they ask me if I have any really funny or crazy massage stories or they start pointing to something that hurts as if I'm going to rub it right then and there.  I wonder what those people do when they find out someone is a proctologist?

So here it is... my new favorite massage story:

(Official disclaimer for those that will probably be offended over nothing.  #1, I never give out details that would be a breech of ethics.  I am first and foremost a professional according to the state of illinois and backed up by the 13.5 in debt and a shiny, framed Associate's Degree in Applied Science.  #2, I am open to all walks of life and all faiths, provided that they do not hold me captive and force feed my doctrine.  It's the captivity and irony of this story that makes it funny, relax)


So my day started out preparing for what is always a very labor intensive, draining massage.  I'm only so strong and so big, very deep tissue and sports massage is not my preferred modality.  I can hack it but not for too many in a row.  A client was coming in that I see regularly and needing a DEEEEEP sports massage like always.  As I go in, I hear mumbling and I realize there is an iPhone on the ground so that my client can watch a podcast through the facehole.  It's on the wood floor so the podcast, a megachurch sermon, is amplified and filling the room, because....    "I thought it would be weird if I brought my headphones"

(no weirder than an impromptu megachurch hour long Jesus rant)

Now the sermon podcast wasn't that bad.  From what I could hear it was a very sweet and inspired message.  Help your fellow man, Gratitude and faith go hand in hand, be kind to the less fortunate... See how those that have more can share with those that have less... generosity, gratitude, JESUS JESUS JESUS.

Then, THE HEAT TURNS ON.  It's October in Chicago, after all.. and it was a balmy 45 degrees this morning and the heat gets cranked (by the one person working who does NOT have to do any physically demanding work) to 78.  The heat blasts directly on my face, as if I took a peek at the Ark of the Covenant, my face is now MELTING OFF to the tune of contemporary religious music (the kind that you see commercials for where everyone looks like they're in pain).

Just then, the actual spa music in the room switches to a meditation chant song about Ganesha.

So there I am...
exhausted and straining, my hands on fire
heat blasting, face melting off, sweat pouring from my scalp, face, neck, and back
bombarded with  OM MANI GANESHA OM GANESHA JESUS JESUS JESUS GANESHA JESUS GANESHA OM OM JESUS JESUS JESUS JESUS

...I'm pretty sure this is what hell feels like.

the hour ends, the client is relaxed and happy and after an extra long sermon about giving to the poor and appreciating your fellow man...     no tip.




service industry brothers and sisters, can I get an Amen???