Meet The Mister Looking For His Miss-ogyny

I work as a beauty therapist at a VERY upscale franchise spa in a five-star hotel. The majority of our clientele are quite well-off and/or coming for a special occasion. Most are perfectly polite, but we do get a few clients who are entitled and demanding.

It’s about an hour before closing, and I’ve just exited from cleaning one of the treatment rooms when the receptionist pulls me aside. She’s a lovely girl from Mexico.

Receptionist: “Hey, [My Name]. I’m sorry, but you’ve had a last-minute booking for a thirty-minute massage.”

Me: “Oh, really? That should be fine.”

Receptionist: “Yeah, I’m sorry. The client asked for you specifically.”

I glance into the waiting room and see the client. I’m instantly confused.

Me: “I’ve never seen him in my life. Why would he ask for me?”

Receptionist: *Looking embarrassed* “Well… he said he only wanted to be booked with an Australian therapist, so it has to be you.”

I stare at her in disbelief. My coworkers at the spa are all extremely multicultural, and I love that. We have people who are Thai, Nepalese, Mexican, Spanish, German, Japanese, Italian, etc. I am the only white Australian who works at this particular location.

Me: “What?! Are you serious?! What does that have to do with anything?”

Receptionist: “I don’t want to book him, but [Manager] said just do it. I’m really sorry. I know it’s weird.”

Me: “I can’t believe this… Okay, fine. I’ll do it. Thank God it’s only a short booking.”

I’m so stunned and angry that I have to take a minute. I don’t know what to expect with this guy or what bearing he thinks cultural background has on this, but since I’m technically the only one who meets his request, I have no choice. I prepare the room, brace myself, and go to fetch the client.

Me: “Hi, [Client]? My name’s [My Name] and I’ll be your therapist today.”

He seems pleased and follows me to the room. I check his consultation form and he gets on the massage bed. I begin the massage.

Client: “So, you’re Australian?”

I’m irritated by his bigotry, but I try to be polite.

Me: “Well, yes. I was born and raised here.”

Client: “I’m glad. I’m [Ethnicity]. You been working here long?”

Me: “I started at this company last June.”

Client: “How often do you work?”

Me: *Thinking he’s just making small talk* “I work four days a week, currently. It’s such a physical job after all.”

Client: “So, you married?”

Me: “No.”

Client: “You have a partner?”

Me: “No, not right now.”

Client: “D***! I was going to say that your husband is a lucky man. Your hands are magic! How old are you?”

Me: “Late twenties.”

Client: “How long have you been single?”

I try to end this conversation.

Me: “A while.”

Client: “You should get married. You ever been with a [Ethnicity] man like me?”

Me: “No. Did you want me to turn the music up or anything?”

Client: “No, I’m good. See, honey, you need to get with a [Ethnicity] man like me. But just so you know, you won’t be able to work when you do. You can’t be Miss Independent with them.”

Me: “…”

Client: “You have to let them be in charge. If you submit, they’ll take care of you. If you try to be your own woman, it won’t work out.”

I die a little inside.

He proceeds to lecture me throughout the rest of the treatment about how a “proper” wife should behave while asking extremely invasive questions about my dating history, which I gently rebuff.

The thirty-minute massage is agonisingly slow, but I get him out as quickly as I possibly can. My coworkers are very concerned with his odd behaviour once I tell them what he was saying. A note is put on his file that he is not to be rebooked. I go home and think that’s the end of it, but the next morning, I arrive to find the receptionist looking worried.

Receptionist: “[My Name]! Are you okay?”

Me: “Yes. What’s going on?”

Receptionist: “That weird guy from yesterday came back looking for you.”

Me: “What?!”

Receptionist: “Yeah, before we opened, he was standing outside, staring into the window. He was wondering when you started work.”

Me: *Pauses* “If he comes back today, tell him I’m not working. And if he comes back again, tell him I’ve been moved to a different spa.”

Receptionist: “If he comes back, I’m calling security. He’s crazy.”

The spa manager was horrified when she found out, and the client was promptly blacklisted for life. So far, he hasn’t returned, and I hope it stays that way!