The massage therapist is a harsh mistress

Tuesday night, Jess and I went for massage therapy at our usual place. (Digression: Our usual place has only been our usual place for about 6 months. You rarely get the same therapist twice...though each of the therapists has been pretty good up to now. We have had such difficulty finding a really good therapist since our best therapist, who quit doing it two years ago to go into construction. We've never found anyone like him again.)

At any rate, Jess and I had back-to-back appointments, and Jess was first. I didn't get to see him after his session was completed because they had prepped my room before he had finished dressing.

A small, older Latina woman came out to the hallway where I was waiting. Several other people were coming and going. (Usually, it's just one person coming out and that would normally have been Jess, but they were busy, apparently). No hello, no calling me by name, merely a tap on the shoulder: "come weeth me, please?"

So I went with her, down the hall, toward the rooms. She motioned me into one with a wave: "ju know what to do." How...polite.

When she returned, I was kneaded like a loaf of sourdough on its initial rising. Stretched like an uncooperative Auntie Anne pretzel. Elbowed like an uneducated tourist on the N train at rush hour.

The woman was brutal. Cruella DeVil had nothing on this one. "You weel tell me eef I am too rough," she snapped as she nearly cracked a rib with her thumb. Yeah, right. I can't even manage to talk, I am in such pain.

Aside from this, she has fingernails that extend beyond the ends of her digits. Massage therapists shouldn't have manicured sets like this. I felt like a scratching pole worked over by a feral cat in heat.

Usually, the therapists there play soothing music and use aromatic oils to help relax you. Devil woman used neither.

When she was finished, she simply said, "That ees eet. You can get dressed now." I didn't see her again. No stopping to ask how I felt, no encouragement to drink much water before leaving, no "have a nice evening."

It's four days later, and still I hurt when touched in the right spot. I asked Jess about his massage; he had the same therapist. Though he didn't feel she was as curt with him as I felt she was with me, he didn't like her style either.

Needless to say, I had no tip for her. But I do have one for her now: find a new vocation!