I had just finished my first massage of the day (one of only two I had scheduled at that point), when I was informed I was needed next door at our ritzy, higher-end partner spa.
Nothing loath, I headed over there and proceeded to spend two and a half hours doing some kick-ass (of course) massage.
Then I had to race back to my home spa, to do another massage before lunch, then another one after lunch.
Here is one thing that really stood out: I did three massages at my normal place of business and got not a single tip. I did two massages at our next-door spa and made $60 in tips.
Hey, Boss? Can I get a transfer, please...?!
Oh, and the one lady I massaged was from Decatur, Texas. You know, the home of the famous, petrified-wood-clad gas station? (Scroll down to December 20th...Phlegmmy, if you're reading this, you really need to have clickable posts, dammit!)
She was super nice and encouraged me in my plan to eventually move to Texas...but she was one of the non-tippers! Oh, well. Nobody's perfect!