The Mechanic’s Terminology

A friend of mine put a tiny dent into my car back on a popular summer holiday. He sent me to a mechanic friend of his to get it fixed. This mechanic was a big Italian (possibly) New York kinda guy. *You know… the giant gold cross necklace with fat fingers and creeping eyes* While waiting for a response from my friend on whether to go through with the $500 charge (obviously a rip off) the man and I were talking. He had seen my massage table and asked if that’s what I do. Instead of lying, I said ‘yea. I do outcalls.’ He said he could give me a bigger discount on the car if I gave him a  massage. I’m open to barter and trades so I said ‘Sure. Give me a call.’ Clearly, it had been before 10am since I gave him my card (aka I wasn’t awake yet). I also may have been thinking, “By the time this guy calls, I’ll be out of the country.” My friend ended up not wanting to pay $500 to fix a dent smaller than my fist (duh) so I left.

A few days ago I got a call from The Mechanic. He goes on about how his back hurts from his job and how Massage Envy doesn’t provide the massages he wants when he wants it and how he’s stressed and needs some stress relief. *BING* Flag  is up. Stress relief can mean two very different things in the massage world. It could mean ‘I have a lot of stress and I’d like to relax please’ or ‘I have a very specific location that I hold stress particularly south of my stomach and north of my thighs’. For some reason though (maybe the previously mentioned creeping eyes) stress relief sounded not quite right. But because it wasn’t blatant I had to keep going with my intake. I asked what time length he was looking for… 30? 60? 90? He responded with ‘Wow. Yea 90 minutes would be great.’ I said ‘ok! Just so you know, a 90 minute massage will cost $100’ and he responds with ‘Yea $100. $200. Whatever’ (((((???? okayyyyyy….))))) *BING* Flag turns orange – something doesn’t seem right with $100, $200, whatever.
My warning flag’s color change prompted me to explain what areas of the body I work on in a 90 minute massage. He said ‘yea uh huh okay’ a few times and responded with ‘Well is there any other therapeutic extras you offer? You know for stress relief?’ *Bing Bing Bing* Warning Warning. My flag is now red. Code red. Hooker nail polish red. ‘I usually offer hot stone massage or aromatherapy, sir. But those upgrades are currently unavailable’. “ookay” says he.

Therapeutic meaning therapy. Meaning something maybe out of balance or injured and needs repairing. In this case, The Mechanic used an excellent term to refer to an inappropriate action. Sneaky… but I’m smarter than that, douche.

I proceeded anyway (again, not quite post-coffee time). “May I have an address where the massage will take place?” ‘Uh.. I’m at a friend’s house so I’ll text it to you.’ “Okay, can you give me a general area so I know how to calculate the gas cost please?’ He tells me that part of town. “I’ll see you at 4:30, Mechanic?” ‘Yea. 4 sounds great. See you then. But call before, I want to make sure I’m awake and ready for you.’

He sends me a text with the address and, go figure, the address does not exist. The zip code is correct but the street (in all various blvds, st, rd, pl, ave, etc) does not exist. After my coffee and the review of the alarms ringing and flags waving in my face I realized I needed to cancel that massage. So I called to no answer. To no voicemail. I would think that a businessman would have a voicemail. Or anyone that has a cell phone ever. So I did the most unprofessional thing I could think of… I cancelled via text. My responses were ‘bbbkffpprrr. z. fjklf’ followed by ‘message right.’ followed by ‘flkjrjrrbkfflazzzz’ and again ‘too late’. I had a voicemail with no missed call that was 3 minutes of nothingness. Sorry Mr. Mechanic. But not really.

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Stinky people

People who gamble seriously take gambling serious. As mentioned, I see people gambling not just $5 bets.. $500 bets on a regular basis.

In the poker room, players will sit there for hours upon hours playing cards and losing their money (and then winning it back and then losing it again, etc). I started my shift around 10 am and immediately got a massage. There was a particularly ghetto guy playing at Table 14 across from my massage. His friend was playing there as well. His friend mentioned he has to get back home to get his kid and since he was the sober of them, they needed to leave in an hour. Ghetto guy agreed and went back to singing especially loud and off key to the pure enjoyment of the entire table. I’m still a bit tired so I encourage this character by laughing a few times at his incredible (horrible) singing abilities. At some point I suppose he starts to notice because he starts to lower his glasses at me and smile.MMmmmmm, nothing turns a girl on like gold-framed teeth. He loses a few hands, wins a few hands, then tells his friend to F*** off when it’s time to leave. He can find his own damn ride home! He’s a grown-ass man who is capable of getting a taxi! (Mind you he lives 125+ miles away).

After I finish my massage, I go on break. When I come back, a supervisor asked for me to head to table 14. I approach the table hoping it was my previous client again but alas and alack! it is Ghetto guy requesting me! He doesn’t really want a massage though, he says as he leans in close. He wants to get to know me because I am a beautiful girl and he knows I’m working so this is how he decides to wooooooo me. The little darling says he’ll pay for 5 minutes of massage (That would be $10, I see about $4 of that, and hope I get a tip) but he doesn’t want me to massage him… he just wants me to touch him. And, baby, does he smell gooooooood!  Like an expired pack of cigarettes all smoked at once with a slight undertone of sweat mingling with a hint of vodka red bull.
Like any good therapist, I use my Peppermint & Lavender scented Badger Balm (from Cracker Barrel, mind you!) on his neck immediately. About two minutes later he turns around and pushes me away: “You have this amazing power to make me feel really high right now. I’m too high for this to play and drunk. I’ll call you back over to get to know you a bit better later. Here’s the money plus a nice tip.” (Total: $15 for 2 minutes.. Meh, I’ll take it)

Not too long later (about 5 hours) I come back around offering massage and the guy takes off his glasses and stands up. He is obviously about to be dramatic and he’s halting the game.

He says “You. Miss Shannon. You rubbed that massage shit on me.”

I say “It’s actually not shit, it’s balm. It’s a lavender and peppermint scent.”

He says “Well I prefer my Burberry more better”

I say “More better huh? Well that’s grammatically correct!”

He says “You talkin shit?”

I say “No sir, I talk truth.”

While the table laughs at my friendly banter and his outraged responses, he accidentally throws some money into the pot and then realizes he wasn’t supposed to do that. His accidental raise caused him to accidentally start swearing toward me and I walked away shaking my head.

Luckily it was my last day there so I didn’t have to worry about the response. . . He was smell and drunk anyway. For shits and giggles (which I already had at this guys expense) I decided to google how much a cab ride would be for this guy to go home:

~$330

🙂 I guess the taxi driver gets the last laugh.

Shit your DAD asks for via Facebook!

This following conversation actually transpired via Facebook (and, as always, for privacy purposes the name of the jerk has been changed):

**”Burt” is the father of a friend of mine “Sam” who I began attending school with in pre-K. Sam’s mother (and wife of ‘Burt) taught me in sunday school. I know this family from my interaction with the religious community.**

  • June 19, 2010

    Burt

    • hey Shannon where can someone go to get a massage from you?

  • June 19, 2010

    Shannon 

    • there are a couple options. i conduct my business out of wherever you are. i offer a mobile massage service. however, if that’s not something you are comfortable with, i’m available at the Citrus Club downtown by request. The price is the same, but i dont get the full pay. It’s $75 there and when i come to you for an hour of swedish massage. if you’d like to call me my number is ***-***-****

  • June 19, 2010

    Burt

    • ok sounds good.So you dont work out of a studio?Is a Sweedish massage relaxation full body?

      *using the phrase ‘full body’ is a red flag for me, which is probably why I didn’t respond to him 2 years ago*

  • March 9,2012

    Burt

    • are you available possibly this weekend for a massage?

  • March 11, 2012

    Shannon 

    • Hi Curt, I’m sorry I just got this message (i’m noticing that I’m not getting notifications for messages lately). I just got back to Tampa and I’ll be here for the first half of the week. I should be back next weekend however. Let me know if you’d like to book something for then.
      Have a great day

  • March 14, 2012

    Burt

    • Hi Shannon can you let me know the different types of massage that you do?THANKS

  • March 17, 2012

    Shannon 

    • I offer swedish (light to medium pressure), deep tissue (medium to firm pressure), and hot stone massage (swedish massage with hot stones incorporated into it)

  • March 17, 2012

    Burt

    • I go to a masseusse she does full body light pressure.I think its Sweedish.

  • March 18, 2012

    Shannon 

    • Light pressure is typically swedish. My “full body” consists of neck back shoulders arms hands legs feet and glute upon request

  • March 19, 2012

    Burt 

    • ok i get your point and thanks.While I really enjoy a really good massage I like full body where EVERY muscle is relaxed.

  • March 19, 2012

    Shannon 

    • great, please do not ever contact me again.

       

       

      ————

      This is not the first time someone’s father has contacted me about such nasty things. A different friend of mine’s (who i was already on egg shells with because her best friend’s husband made a move on me) father commented on several FB pictures of mine saying i looked ‘real good’ and even messaged me to let me know how ‘hot’ he thought I was.

      People, get your nasty dad’s under control.

Nothing in life is free

As I walk around a pit with blackjack tables in it, I ask each table if they would like a massage. Typically they ask how much it is and either agree to get one or (most likely) do not.

Me: Massages for anyone here?

Fat Man in giant jean shorts: Are they free?

Me: No sir.

Fat Man in giant jean shorts: How about you give me a free one, pretty lady?

Me: Okay! Here’s the deal: I’ll give you a 5 minute free massage, but in exchange I want at least $10 in chips or cash… for free.

Fat Man in giant jean shorts: Okay, here’s a chip ($2.50).

Me: You want a one minute massage?
(massages are $2/minute)

Fat Man  in giant jean shorts: Yea, keep the change.
(what a sweetheart.)

A Type of Massage

Me (approaching a poker table): May I offer anyone here a tableside massage?

Player: Not that kind of massage, sweetheart
((oh, he thinks he is SO funny))

Me: Okay, well how about I massage your wallet instead?

O no he didn’t!

This is quite possibly one of the most embarrassing stories from my massage history (both for me and the client):

In Spa Unrejuvinated, I was booked solid for one whole day. Yay! I grabbed the client intake form with my name on it and called to “Mr So N So.” A black gentleman stood up and shook my hand. I introduced myself and the lady next to him stands up immediately and says  “Wait! I requested you! You’re Shannon, right?” Oops, our stupid-ass owner doesn’t know what a “request” is apparently so I switch the papers out and bring back “Mrs. So N So” (aka the wife of black gentleman). Mrs. So N So wanted a 75 min deep tissue massage and so I give it to her. And she LOVES it. She just can’t stop smiling and sighing, she even slept at some point. After the massage she just RAVES about me. I’m SO happy to have given her the massage she had been looking forward to. I have NO idea who told her I was good at what I do, but she said they told her correctly! And to show her appreciation she left me a $5 tip (on a $115 treatment!). Whatever, cheap-ass, she just enjoyed my massage and that’s all I can truly ask for.

The next day I get a “request” again and this time it’s Mr. So n So. His wife was so pleased with her massage that she sent the hubby to come get a 75 min deep tissue massage. The massage commences and he doesn’t really say much. He asks a question here and there about where I’m from and the typical “should i be talking?” questions. I had concentrated the majority of massage on his back since he had requested that. I provided 20 minutes or so to the supine (stomach-up) position. I’m working on his neck and I notice his eyes are open, well that’s a little strange because most people close their eyes. I offer him an eye cover and he declines. So I (feeling more uncomfortable than normal) move on to work on his arms and legs. I’m doing deep tissue on his quads and I notice he’s starting to shake. I ask if the pressure is too much and he says no, keep going. So I do…and then he starts shaking more violently.
I look up and immediately take a step back: He has the “O” face going on.
I had not even NOTICED that he had some excitement going on (you’d think I would considering I was on his LEG!!) probably because we had double blanketed them and it’s not easy to see the shifting unless he’s huge (obviously not, in this case).
((as a side note, in this spa we had specific draping policies and I wasnt even halfway up his thigh))

I stand shocked for a minute and Mr. So n So sighs in pleasure and then begins apologizing profusely:
“It’s just you’re so beautiful and I couldn’t help it. You’re so voluptuous.” WHAT!! I had to wear baggy black shirt with white shorts – how is that even remotely attractive!?
I explained that the massage had to end early because of his ‘issue’ and that he still had to pay in full. My advice to him was to go home and show his wife a good time and not come back or request me please. I also requested that he put the sheets into the laundry bin himself.

And in the faithful pattern following his wife’s, he left me $5 for that crap. Thank you Mr So n So.

T&A

I started my shift at 10am. I didn’t get 10 minutes into my shift before I got a massage. This guy is a regular of mine and requested only 10 minutes. So I work on his shoulders and neck as per usual.

I hear snickering to my left so I look. Next to my regular is a wasted guy. I don’t mean drunk.. I mean SHWASTED. (Apparently this guy had been drinking at the casino since 6am, and before that he was out at a strip club since 10pm the night before.) I ask what he finds so funny and he mutters something about the massage. I ignore him and wrap up the massage I’m doing.

[I’ve decided to call his guy “Walter”.. because it sounds like “wasted”]

Walter asks to get a massage before I moved on. So I start out with 10 minutes on his back. He turns around in the wasted fashion that most men do: face down, eyes immediately to my chest. He stares at my chest for a minute and says ‘I’d like a hand massage instead’ ooookaayyy? So I work on his hands and he continues to stare at my chest. Occasionally he looks up to play his hand at blackjack or to remark loudly to the other players. This continues for about an hour and a half: hand massage, other hand massage, neck massage, back to the hand massage.
Walter refuses to let me leave which is fine because I get paid by the minute and as long as I’m working, I’m getting paid. After he’s cut off by the waitress his drunk ass decided to make a sweet confession:
“I’m only getting a hand massage so I can stare at your tits.”
*Sigh* Typical douchebag. But to my rescue comes the ENTIRE table. My regular stands up and says ‘If you talk to her like that, there’s going to be trouble.” The rest of the table agrees and rips him a new one with profanities I don’t feel like going into.

He apologizes, I finish the massage and get paid (luckily) and move on. A couple hours later I see him at another pit and he asks to get more massage. This time he’s being a little more respectful (sober, respectful, same thing) and has me work on his back. Something happens during one of the hands and the guy becomes livid. He yells at the dealer and pit manager and stands up. He goes to walk off and I inform him he hasn’t paid me. He turns around and hands me whatever chips he has left and storms off. To end the story, I’ll let ya know I made bank that day. 🙂

To this day, some of the people from that table will stop me for a hand massage.

FYI: the joke gets old.

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