Hello eforum.xxxerts,
Alas. I am hard to get a hold of. I'm an elusive tart. I'm busy during the day (can't answer the phone while in an appointment, right?), and my phone seems to expire on a semi-regular basis (I had eight of them last year).
There was a while there where I had to make quite a few cancellations. They break my heart and my pocketbook, and I'll here out myself with the reason why, now that I'm out of the woods.
I was undergoing radiation therapy, and somedays I would wake up feeling like a Zamboni with a bad case of salmonella ran me over in the middle of the night. I felt, like many "sick" people, ashamed of my illness, and who wants to see the masseuse with cancer? No-body. It makes you feel bad for me, and then you don't let me take care of you. So I didn't tell any but a couple of select regulars (thank you to them).
I'm fine and well now (suck on it, you nasty-bad malignant cells!) and glad to finally be back at work full strength for the first time since last spring.
For granite, what massagegirl said is bang-on. I would add that it's best to call me in the morning (before I start work at noon) and in the evening (after I'm done at around 7 or 8). If you leave a message, let me know your number, and when it is safe to call you.
I often get messages at the end of the day, when it seems too late to politely and discreetly call back. I always err on the side of not outing eforum.xxxerts to their wives.
Or your message might say you are looking for an appointment for noon, and I get the message when I am done work at five-thirty. It seems silly to call you back, then, too. But if you'd like me to call you back regardless, let me know.
Oh, as regards RMT: I don't think I've ever said I'm "equivalent to" an RMT. I have done my two years of training, I've paid them their massive licensing fees; I am a certified massage therapist.
Sadly, "Madeleine" (like many other one-named semi-fictitious souls) is not bound to be in the College's list of therapists.
You may be shocked, in fact, to discover that James Bond is not on the MI6's roster of professional G-men. Nor is Jesus Christ (retired) registered to the illustrious tradesmens' union.
The criteria upheld by some professions, is, in point of fact, dismaying to any moral citizen.
But I escape the point: If you'd like to see me in that guise, you'll be paying more, and getting less. But hey, then you'd see my certificate. Wouldn't that be FUN!
Just think, we could compare diplomas o'er a snifter of Q.R.V., and discuss the glories of RMT's being strictly controlled and policed in BC and Ontario but non-existent in other more open-minded provinces. We could speak of the three months I (along with poor, un-diplomae'd Madeleine) spent at the college in New West, learning sweet blessed fuck-all! (And getting our money back. We were pleased.)
Oh, we'd chatter of the two years I spent in Thailand, learning in their 6 days per week, 9 hours per day, hands-on training, more than the average student learns here in their four year course! Riveting stuff! Of the hefty sum I paid the College when I got back in order to take the test and get into their good books.
And then.... we'd get to the diploma. Sweeeeeeet succotash! Creamy dimpled paper, lovely cursive font (size fourteen, buxom but brash and seductive), and my name.......
But alas. That'd be giving up the game. Throwing myself to the nooky-with-your-cooky massage police. And that'd not be fun; I'd be undone.
Oh my. I appear to have had rather a lot of massageplanetfeine, and too high a dose of Oscar WIlde this afternoon.
I hope to have settled this matter with my semi-Wildean banter. For further pontifications on my truantness, please address me directly, as I strive to offer quite overwhelming compensation to those I have wronged.
Sign me,
A woman of no importance, who understands the importance of being earnest. (ha. ha. ha.)
( Madeleine. 778 883 9084)