After a few minutes of unbelievably awkward silence, a deep voice broke through. “Can you sit up?” It was a man’s voice. I began to get up, half anxious to see who this mysterious person was giving me a massage, and half frightened at the possibilities. This was not the doctor at all. The stout hispanic man in front of me was the front desk receptionist. “Okay, can I have you sit in this chair?” He said to me. I was in complete shock. Why on earth was he in here? Is this allowed? This is not what I signed up for.
So I did what he said. I sat in the chair, still shirtless. He showed me a neck stretching exercise. “It will loosen your neck muscles up” he said. My mind raced as the situation got more awkward. “He should not be in here” I thought to myself. “What is he doing?” He asked me to return to the table and continued to massage my back. “Surely,” I told myself, “I have this wrong.” While he wasn’t as good as the young masseuse, the man did give a halfway decent back massage. They must have sent him in to continue to work out my back. I began to convince myself that things were normal and I was not just being massaged by the stocky receptionist.