I work in a massage clinic. I have one client I refer to as “annoying but harmless”. He’s an older man, showing signs of dementia, fairly deaf, and friendly in his own way.

The first time I met him, [Client] spent almost forty-five minutes (my entire break!) talking at me about various things, wandering from subject to subject. This was just a visit to fill out the paperwork! I finally got away when my next client came in.

After that, we learned that: 1) he doesn’t carry a phone, 2) he doesn’t believe in texting, and 3) he has a lousy memory.

This has led [Client] to show up an entire hour and a half before his appointment and expect us to either take him then or let him sit in our waiting room, where he will quietly talk to himself. (I can still hear him through the walls.)

[Client] has very strong opinions about any number of things and will say he “doesn’t judge” and “everyone is different”, but he has made it clear that anyone who doesn’t live his lifestyle of hard work and exercise is just lazy.

The other day, as [Client] was talking to me during the massage (I’ve tried responding, but he’s too deaf to hold a conversation with) he came up with this gem:

Client: “My wife tells me she wants to get a divorce. I don’t know why. She’s hard to get along with, and there’s nothing wrong with me!”

I’m just glad he couldn’t hear my eye-roll.

As a massage therapist (do not call us masseuses), I get a lot of interesting clients. One of them was extremely entitled, unfriendly, and cheap. He decided to leave us a bad review when I wouldn’t bend to his every whim.

My boss, however, is awesome, and she let me write the response to the review.

Me: “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy your massage. I’m afraid that none of our professional licensed massage therapists practice the particular style of massage you seem to be looking for. We would like to encourage you to patronize another business where you might find more satisfaction.”

Too subtle?

As a massage therapist, sometimes I wonder if I’m trapped in a conversation with my clients, or if they’re trapped in one with me. One such example happened recently. I’m giving a massage to an older male, probably in his sixties.

Client: “…and did you hear that ladies all over Europe are doing [random fashion trend]?! I can’t believe it. I think it looks awful. I don’t know why they’re doing it.”

Me: *Kind of playfully* “Well, they’re probably not doing it for your attention.”

Client: “Well, whose attention are they doing it for, then?!”

Wow, sir. Maybe for one of the other billions of people in the world?!

I then treated him to a half-hour-long discussion/lecture about societal expectations, body shaming, ladies’ fashion over the years, social media, mainstream media, etc. 

That was probably one of the instances where they were trapped in a conversation with me.

To his credit, he took it fairly well, and he booked another appointment with me later!

My aunt told me this story recently, and I knew I had to share it. My cousin has extremely high special needs, and he needs nearly twenty-four-seven care and supervision. The neurologist’s office — the receptionist specifically — has been giving my aunt the runaround, not letting her speak to the doctor directly, and finally, the receptionist drops this gem.

Receptionist: “The doctor has recommended a psychiatrist. This is outside of his specialty. Once [Cousin] is seen by the psychiatrist, we will discuss the next steps.”

Aunt: “You’re sending my son to a shrink? He’s having seizures and rage episodes again!”

Receptionist: “Behavior issues are not in [Doctor]’s area of study.”

Aunt: “I don’t understand. I was told the raging was part of his seizures. Can I speak to the doctor?”

Receptionist: “No. Your son needs to be seen for his behavior issues before [Doctor] will see him.”

Aunt: “His seizures can cause behavior changes. It’s one of the signs I needed to look out for. This is seizure behavior, and [Cousin] is non-verbal. He won’t be able to speak to a therapist!”

Receptionist: “Once the psychiatrist works with him, the doctor will be willing to discuss further treatment. Until then, we will not schedule any appointments for [Cousin].”

So, defeated, [Aunt] takes [Cousin] to the recommended psychiatrist, already knowing what will happen. She gets them both checked in, gets [Cousin] settled, and then explains the situation to the shrink, whose jaw gets lower and lower the more she explains to him.

Psychiatrist: “I… am so sorry. I am completely baffled.”

Aunt: “Yeah. Me, too.”

Psychiatrist: “If you don’t mind waiting, I’m going to call them and get to the bottom of this.”

Aunt: “Take your time. I’d love to know what they were thinking, too.”

After the call…

Psychiatrist: “Okay, I’ve spoken with the neurologist’s office. I told them in no uncertain terms that a non-verbal autistic child with a diagnosed seizure disorder and autoimmune encephalitis wouldn’t benefit from traditional therapy in any way. I can’t help him, I don’t know anyone in my field who could help him, and I can’t believe they even made you take this step. He has neurological conditions that need to be treated by a neurologist.”

Aunt: “I tried to explain it to them, but they insisted. I figured they had to hear it from you.”

Psychiatrist: “Well, they definitely heard it from me. I won’t be charging you for this, and I would like to offer you some free sessions. This must be beyond stressful for you.”

Aunt: “I— Thank you. I think I could use it.”

And that’s the story of how my aunt’s new therapist had to explain to a neurologist’s office that seizures aren’t a psychological issue. My cousin is currently on a waitlist for a different neurologist.

I’ve been dealing with an issue with my right calf for a few months now. It’s not a blood clot, so I’ve been told, but it sure as h*** feels like one at times, and it comes and goes with no warning; it can happen while I’m eating, while I’m relaxing, or while I’m exercising, with no clear pattern.

This is my third visit to a physiotherapist, done in case it’s to do with weak ankles (which I’m not entirely convinced of, but hey ho). I explain that, despite doing my assigned exercises, I’ve experienced only slight improvement; it comes slightly less frequently.

Physiotherapist: “If zero is no improvement and 100% is completely improved, where would you say you fit on that scale?”

Me: “Seven, at best.”

She notes that and then goes over what exercises I’m actually doing. She briefly circles back to that statement a couple of minutes later:

Physiotherapist: “…but 70% improvement is really good, actually.”

Me: “I didn’t say seventy, I said seven.”

Physiotherapist: “Yes, seven out of ten. That’s 70%.”

Me: “You said out of 100! Seven out of 100 is 7%.”

Physiotherapist: “Fine.”

She moved on quickly from that, but I’ve been feeling rather niggled by it. Does 100% mean ten in physiotherapy speak, and I just didn’t get the memo?