I don't care that you're a lawyer. Nor do I care that you're wearing a rock the size of a jaw breaker on your finger, and several more around your neck.
You, my dear, are uncouth. It's bad enough that you didn't wash your hands after you used the toilet, but then to touch ME on the neck to show me where your problem areas are, with your disgusting, germy hands...*shudder*.
I'll have you know that only the fact that I'm a professional kept me from shrieking in horror when your fingers touched my neck, and that my flesh was crawling during the entire massage.
I couldn't wait for the massage to be over, because immediately afterwards I ran to our utility sink and scrubbed my neck and shoulders with a soapy wash-cloth. I hated giving you my business card, even though you asked for one, because I hope I never have to massage you again.
And a two-dollar tip, on top of that? Adding insult to injury, really. (BTW, I split your oh-so-generous tip between the two front desk people, because I didn't want those two dollar bills in my purse, bad tip-karma, dontcha know!)
And the young lady who was in the spa at the same time as you? You know, the gal with the tattoos, facial piercings and black-painted toe nails? SHE washed her hands after going to the bathroom, and I'd rather massage her than you ANY day.
Thank you, that is all.