Image courtesy of Flickr user Sauna van Egmond

Sometimes I have salon or spa etiquette questions — like how much and who to tip — but one time I had a major beauty conundrum: what’s the etiquette regarding inappropriate touching at a spa?

Here’s what happened: I went to Burke Williams Spa in Santa Monica (which frankly has seen better days) and was booked with Bernard, who looked like Sayid from Lost. As the massage began, I kept feeling something firm hitting my body, which was just below Bernard’’s waist level, if you get my drift. My mind began racing with thoughts of what I should do! Stand up and say “that’s enough of that mister!” Or just sit there and deal with it? I kept peering through the headrest hole to see if I could catch a glimpse of the offending jab, to no avail. So I decided, I’ll have the massage, hope it stops and say something to the manager afterward.

After the massage, I went into the lobby (with splotchy red face and wearing my tattered white robe and paper-thin slippers) and asked to speak with the manager, who I was told would be with me shortly. I waited, looking at the candle collection in the lobby, until the male manager arrived, boisterously inquiring how he could help me. In a low voice, so that the other customers couldn’t hear, I softly stammered out: “I just had a massage with Bernard and I think he was touching me with his penis.” That’s when the manager whisked me into his “office,” which was actually a storage closet for Kleenex and tampons.

I don’t know if it was the hormones released during the massage, some pent-up emotions or that I was really quite upset, but I started bawling — uncontrollable waterworks. The manager handed me a tissue (there were plenty!) and between sobs, I managed to tell him again that I kept feeling a firm object hitting me during the massage and… “Let me just tell you,” the manager gently interrupted, “that Bernard wears his massage-oil bottle on a belt around his waist.”

HUMILIATION.

“Oh, okay, okay, well if that’s all it was…” I stammered. He replied that he didn’t want me to feel like he wasn’t listening to my problem, but that was what I was feeling. I tried my best to quickly exit the closet while the manager told me he’d say something to him. While I was in the locker room after that, the female manager came to check on me (Jesus, people, are you rubbing it in? I’m fine. I’m embarrassed. Let it go. Move on. Check please.) So check indeed — when I left and stopped at the counter, I was charged the full $165 (yah, a one-hour massage ain’t cheap!) and was informed that they would like to extend me half off my next massage. (Such generosity after enduring an hour of is-he-poking-me.)

So in retrospect, I learned that if you aren’t comfortable in a massage (or any other treatment), it’s best to speak up from the get-go. Bernard is NOT a mind-reader, folks.

Tags: Spa

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 17th, 2010 at 8:09 am and is filed under Bath & Body. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.