I developed back problems from constantly sitting at a desk job and decided to seek a massage. I found a massage parlor ran by a group of young Thai women who all used Disney character names as their work names.

My first few visits were nothing notable. However, one of the girls on hand named “Jasmine” was not a particular favorite of mine; she was rather rough with her fingers and she had a strange odor about her. I decided after two sessions with her that she would be someone I would politely pass on when offered.

Then, along came “Bambi”, a girl with a touch like magic that would put me to sleep throughout the entire sessions. I went from paying for one-hour-long sessions with her to two-hour-long sessions, and I would give her a tip along with it all. This ended up igniting a serious problem.

Every time I would show up for a massage, Jasmine would answer the door to tell me that Bambi was not there and that all the other girls were busy. She would then try to pull me into a room despite my protesting that I was only interested in a massage from Bambi. It should be noted that there was a camera in the hallway leading to the door, so the girls could see the customers as they were approaching.

I then resorted to phoning in and reserving appointments with Bambi. This worked a few times until one occasion.

Me: “Hi there. I have an appointment with Bambi at [time].”

The girl at the desk looked at her computer screen with a puzzled expression.

Receptionist: “There are no scheduled appointments for Bambi.”

Right on cue, Jasmine popped up out of nowhere.

Jasmine: “I’ll take you!”

She began pulling me to a room. This time, I loudly protested, and they ended up producing Bambi for my requested appointment.

Later on, I appeared for another appointment with Bambi, and all was going smoothly until Jasmine walked into the room, handed Bambi a phone, and said something in Thai. Bambi took the phone and excused herself outside of the room with an uncomfortable expression on her face, with Jasmine following behind and closing the door. I put my head back down into the face cushion and waited.

About thirty seconds or so later, I heard the door open and promptly close, and then I felt a set of hands rubbing on my calf. I immediately returned to my relaxed state. This was shortly interrupted by the sound of someone frantically twisting that was clearly a locked doorknob, followed by a thunderous banging on the door and shouting something in Thai repeatedly.

I looked up to behold Jasmine with her grubby paws on my calf, looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the cafe tip jar. She rushed over and opened the door, and she and Bambi engaged in a screaming match in Thai while a third girl desperately tried to break the two combatants up. Once the situation was finally defused, Bambi furiously slammed the door shut and walked toward me yelling:

Bambi: “Can you believe that b****? She called my boyfriend and said I needed to talk to him about something really important. And she knows we’re having problems right now!”

After that incident, I decided to refrain from visiting that parlor for a few months, hoping that by the time I returned, Jasmine would have either moved on or been fired. After booking an appointment with Bambi, who was still there, I showed up… and who should answer the door but Jasmine.

I wasn’t having it this time. I put my hand up.

Me: *Firmly* “Bambi! I’m here for Bambi!”

Jasmine: “Yes, massage with Bambi. Please come in.”

She led me into a room and pointed to the massage bed.

Jasmine: *Casually* “You can get undressed.”

I decided not to make any further moves until Bambi personally walked through the door. As I stood there fully clothed and pacing in a semi-circle, I noticed Jasmine was still standing there with an expectant look on her face.

Me: “Bambi! I’m here to see Bambi!”

Jasmine: “Yes. Bambi!”

An awkward silence followed.

Me: *Confused* “Bambi! I want Bambi!”

Jasmine: “Yes! Bambi! Me! You book a two-hour massage, I give it to you, you always like it, you always pay and give a big tip and say I’m the best, and you always come back for me!” *Points to herself* “Bambi! You just forgot what I look like because it’s been a very long time. Please undress.”

I left and never went back again.

I am getting my nails done and making small talk with the nail tech. 

Nail Tech: “So, do you have any children?”

Me: “I do! Two little girls.”

Nail Tech: “How old are they?”

Me: “My oldest is four, and I recently had the second. She’s about five months.”

Nail Tech: “Who’s watching them?”

Me: “Er, my husband. Their dad.”

The tech looks at me, shocked.

Nail Tech: “Who’s going to change her diaper when she needs it?!”

I’m confused into silence for a moment.

Me: “He will.”

Nail Tech: “You let your husband change your daughter’s diaper? I never let my husband do that with my daughters. It’s unnatural.”

Me: “He’s their parent, too. Why wouldn’t he change diapers?”

Nail Tech: “Men should not be changing girls’ diapers.”

Me: “Do you think women shouldn’t change boys’ diapers?”

Nail Tech: “That’s different!”

Me: “How so?”

Nail Tech: “It just is! It’s different when it’s the mom. Moms aren’t going to do anything.”

Me: “And neither is my husband. I wouldn’t have married or had children with him if I felt otherwise.”

We sit in silence while she finishes my nails and I go to pay. 

Nail Tech: “Next time, have your mother or his mother watch your daughters, instead.”

I didn’t tip.

I got my first job at a salon out of cosmetology school and was told I’d get at least two days off every week. I ended up with a 100-degree fever the night before my two days off. My boss called me first thing in the morning to beg me to come in for a nine-hour shift.

Me: “I can’t; I’m running a fever and I feel terrible.”

Boss: “Knock back some DayQuil and get in.”

I didn’t think much of it. I didn’t usually work nine-hour days, so I assumed I’d get a break, especially since I was sick.

I did not get to sit down for the entire nine hours that I was there. I had to beg to go and buy cough drops and some soup because I was starving. My manager wasn’t even going to let me take lunch. I was young and dumb and did not know that was illegal.

I got to eat two bites of soup before my boss came in the back and yelled at me that we were backed up and they needed another stylist on the floor because SHE had to do managerial duties. I managed to get up and finish out my day.

I left with a fever of 102 AND got a ticket for running a red light because I was so out of it. I shouldn’t have been driving.

The next day, my boss called to tell me to cover for another employee who needed the day off. I didn’t answer.

My coworker is talking to a customer.

Coworker: “No, ma’am, I am afraid we cannot trim your baby’s nails.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Coworker: “Because your baby is two months old. Also, we’re a dog-grooming salon.”

Back in the 1970s, I was in the local shopping plaza to pick up food as a snowstorm had started.

I heard this conversation take place.

Beauty Salon Owner: “I’m going to close up now. How about you?”

Liquor Store Owner: “Lady, I can’t close. I’m a public service!”