I’m currently a massage therapist working at a well-known massage franchise in Connecticut. My job is brainless, and in some instances, gross. The pay is nothing to brag about and at this rate, I will never pay off my debt and move out of my parents’ house. I’m turning 30 next month.
That’s the low down. My life in its most simplistic of terms laid out for all to see.
Working at a massage franchise is the perfect fit for me. You see, this way I don’t have to do much. The place is so inexpensive that most anyone can afford a massage. The clients keep lining up, and I keep rubbing them down. When I show up for work, I turn my brain down to the lowest frequency. There’s no audible hum, no energized static buzzing between my ears. No. There are just whimsy flightless thoughts that migrate to the base of my skull. My medulla oblongata is percolating, marinating in squishy, over-cooked repetitive thought.
My job description is as follows: I go into a dimly lit closet-sized room with a total stranger. I rub their body down using an aloe vera based gel. We don’t say much during this time. We listen to sounds from the orient, woodland creatures, some mellow piano or harpsichord. I gently or aggressively (depending on what they prefer) massage their body from head to toe, leaving out the sexual parts (genitals) and the silly parts (belly button). After their allotted time, we emerge from the stuffy dark enclosure into the brightly lit hallway blinking and squinting in dazed confusion.
The client never seems to remember how to get back to reception.
If I went into business for myself, I would probably do well monetarily. However, being a door-to-door masseuse is a risky business. I don’t have any big bad bouncer to keep the perverts from touching my goods. If I did, I would have to pay him more money than I actually make.
I’m too lazy to go into business for myself anyway. I tried and failed numerous times. I tried by doing corporate chair massage (less risky then going to a strangers house), but was too costly to market. I tried to open a few little website businesses, but that never took off.
I never finish what I start. Its like I keep taking bites out of different apples and letting them sit there to turn all brown. The longer I let things sit, the more unappealing they become. Therefore, I ended up in a job where I don’t have to think or bring my work home with me.
Working at a job like this attracts certain types of employee’s. They are the instant gratification types. We would rather be hunter-gatherers like the Hadza tribe of Tanzania who don’t like to wait around for crops to grow. The only problem with that is the Hadza people hadn’t evolved in the past 10,000 years. And according to my own personal history, me neither.
Before massage, I was a waitress. I sucked at first, but stayed diligent in this job choice because I knew there was fast easy money to be made. Plus a large array of interesting people to work with who love nothing more than to go out and drink away their troubles. I waited tables for:
Damon’s – Cheshire, CT
Rossini’s pizza – Cheshire, CT
Pasta Plus – Cheshire, CT
J. Timothy’s – Plainville, CT
Cadillac Ranch – Plainville, CT
Yankee Silversmith – Wallingford, CT
Scoozie Trattoria and wine bar – New Haven, CT
East side – New Britain, CT
Paul’s – Cheshire, CT
Café on the park (New Britain museum of American Art) – New Britain, CT
Westbrook – Wallingford, CT
I think that’s all the restaurants. I did banquets too for Jordan Caterers and the Aquaturf.
I’ve also worked at:
Stop & Shop
Mcdonalds (I guess this could be considered a restaraunt?)
Cheshire convalescent center
Bloomingdales by mail
The Dress Barn
Prudential real estate (I tried selling houses)
Lavender fields day spa
In Touch massage and spa
Some landscaping company consisting of all lesbians
One day at a telemarketing place that sold security alarms
I think that’s all of them. I’ll add to the list if I remember more. I’ve had about 23 jobs in 15 years. Only got fired from 4, laid off from 3.
I went to massage school because I didn’t know what else to do. The school was cheap and I knew I’d easily get a job after graduation to a place that wasn’t a conventional 9-5, five days a week kinda place.
I couldn’t be a waitress anymore because I felt like bursting out in crying fits while waiting tables. Sometimes for good reason (like when customers ask where I go to school), other times, it was for no apparent reason at all. The crying fits only happened twice to my poor unsuspecting customers who consoled me while feeding me advice. But the tears were always one lousy tip away.
It wasn’t because I hated my job. It was because I was a loser, and I knew I was a loser. Walking up to a table while wearing my dirty apron and sauce splattered shirt, holding my little notepad like I was of some importance – that initial walk up to a brand new table is what sent the tears to my eyes.
I know that there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with waiting table’s for a living. I was upset at myself for other things. My procrastination, my aimless behavior, you know, that sort of stuff.
Most every night of the week, my fellow coworkers and I would go out after work. We were regulars to the local bars, following the drink specials around going to different dives depending on what they were serving. I became dependent on alcohol to help put me to sleep each night. Alcohol made me feel less like shit, but then replaced that shit with a more different kind of shit. I had a lot of dreams about my teeth rotting out around this time of my life.
Okay, that’s enough for today. I’ll post more tomorrow about my decision to join the Navy.
The Navy bound girl