Ye Olde Spa

When I was a rookie to the massage field, I took a job, pretty much out of economic desperation, at a large day spa near the big mall. It was, in 1997, the one and only true real spa in the area. I don’t mean fluffy robes, but it actually had the water features that means a real spa – steam, pool, wet rooms and water-based treatments, etc.

This spa had ambitions, five-star ambitions, actually, and I figured I might be able to learn how to make a living at massage and possibly pay my rent in the meantime. It looked pretty spiffy, with a roman-spa feel and design.

I wore my white lab coat and a white polo and uniform pants to fit in for the interview. The new spa director had me give her a massage. I started on time and finished on time, a big deal at a place where one-hour massages are 50 minutes. I thought I was doing grand until I realized I had forgotten to put on deodorant that morning and tried to do a full-body Swedish with my elbows stuck to my sides.
Somehow I managed not to sweat too much during the massage interview and got hired on. There were a lot of therapists working at the spa, and a friend had given me a heads up on how to get by with the herd.

My first day I thought had gone fairly smoothly. I had two massages in a six-hour shift, and one of the experienced therapists was nice enough to show me the ropes, namely where to find sheets and how to fold sheets for an herbal wrap.

I wasn’t as busy as some of the other therapists working that day, and one, a man I’ll call Jon, ran up to me in a panic. He said he was overbooked and asked if I could run the tub in the treatment room while he ran to find his client.
Sure, I was happy to pitch in. I went into the tub room, checked the tub and noticed that the tub switch was set to shower. I looked up and saw the nozzle was pointed right at my head. I turned the switch back to tub and started to run the water, adding salts. When I turned around, I saw Jon was standing in the doorway, peering in at me with a disappointed look on his face.

“The tub’s filling,” I said cheerfully, “Do you need me to do anything else?”
Having survived my first day as a rookie, it turned out that Jon and I became good spa buddies, and it was a truly great place to learn the business.

I heard a few weeks ago that the spa had closed, beat out by the less expensive and more savvy marketing chain spas. It quietly closed it doors, with just a note on the web site thanking its customers and saying goodbye, signed with a generic “the management” sign-off.