A First Massage
July 7, 2024
Rain pelted the window of Pink Pearl, a quaint little establishment nestled beside a tow yard. The building was nondescript, easily overlooked among the other unremarkable structures on the street. Inside, the warm, inviting ambiance stood in stark contrast to the gloomy exterior. Soft instrumental music played in the background, the scent of lavender permeating the air.
It was my first day as a masseuse, and I was a bundle of nerves. My name is Hillary, and after months of searching for a new direction in life, I landed this job at Pink Pearl. The anxiety wasn’t just about the job itself, but about proving myself. After losing my previous job due to cutbacks, I had spent months in a state of limbo, searching for a new direction. When I finally decided on massage therapy, it felt right. But doubts lingered. What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I hurt someone by mistake? These thoughts looped in my mind as I prepared for my first clients.
One of the more senior girls gave me a quick tour of the spa, showing me the treatment rooms and where all the supplies were kept. “You’ll do fine,” she assured me. “Just remember to breathe and trust your instincts.” Her words were comforting, but they didn’t completely quell the butterflies in my stomach.
My first client of the day arrived right on time. He was a middle-aged man named Mr. Thompson, with kind eyes and a warm smile. As I led him to the treatment room, he chatted amicably about the weather and how he’d heard great things about Pink Pearl. Once he was on the table, I started with gentle strokes, my hands gradually finding their rhythm. Mr. Thompson was a dream client—patient, appreciative, and quick to compliment my technique. “That feels wonderful,” he murmured. By the end of the session, my initial jitters had begun to melt away, thanks to his encouraging words and relaxed demeanor.
Just as I was starting to feel more confident, my second client walked in. Mr. Ramirez was the polar opposite of Mr. Thompson. Tall and imposing, he exuded an air of entitlement. He barely acknowledged my greeting and marched straight to the treatment room. As I worked on his back, he barked orders at me, demanding more pressure, less pressure, different techniques, all in a gruff tone. “Harder. No, not like that. Don’t you know what you’re doing?” Every criticism chipped away at my fledgling confidence, and I struggled to maintain my composure. The session felt like it lasted an eternity. By the time he left, my nerves were frayed, and I was second-guessing everything I had learned.
Taking a few deep breaths, I prepared myself for the next client. Mr. Anderson was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties, with a shy demeanor. He avoided eye contact and mumbled his responses, clearly nervous. I could relate. As I began the massage, I tried to create a calming environment, speaking in soft, reassuring tones. Slowly, he started to relax, and I could feel the tension leaving his body. “You’re doing great,” I whispered, hoping to encourage him. By the end of the session, he even managed a small smile and thanked me profusely. “That was amazing. I feel so much better.” It was a small victory, but it lifted my spirits significantly.
My final client of the day was an older gentleman named Mr. Collins. He was chatty from the moment he walked in, filling the room with stories about his grandchildren and his glory days. It became clear that he wasn’t here just for the massage—he wanted company. I listened intently, responding when appropriate, but mostly letting him talk. “You remind me of my granddaughter,” he said with a chuckle. His stories were a welcome distraction from my earlier anxieties, and I found myself enjoying his company. The massage itself was secondary; it was the human connection that mattered to him. When he left, he thanked me with a genuine smile and a promise to return soon. “You have a gift, Hillary. I’ll be back.”
As I closed up the spa that evening, I reflected on the day. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions, each client bringing their own unique challenges and rewards. Mr. Thompson’s kindness, Mr. Ramirez’s harshness, Mr. Anderson’s shyness, and Mr. Collins’s need for companionship had all taught me something different. I had navigated a range of personalities and emotions, learning not just about massage techniques, but also about empathy, patience, and resilience.
The apprehension I had felt that morning had transformed into a quiet confidence. I had faced my fears and come out stronger. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but I knew I could handle them. Each client, each interaction, was a step on the journey, and I was ready to embrace it all. As I walked home in the rain, I replayed the events of the day in my mind. Despite the ups and downs, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had taken the first step in my new career, and it felt like the beginning of something meaningful.