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You are here: Home » Blog » Client Relations » 8 Massage Horror Stories From Actual Massage Clients (Volume 1)
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I have collected these Horror Story submissions from actual massage clients across the country.
(The horror stories have only been slightly edited and the names are real because they were submitted to me because the clients wanted to help the industry as a whole.
(If you or your spa is mentioned below — let me know and I will add a note about how you have improved the situation.)
We can all learn from clients who have had bad experiences so we never repeat these situations.
Even if you THINK you don’t do this…consider any similarities in what you might do or what a client might experience from your session.
The most important take-away from this post is that in most of these situations the client told me they didn’t complain about it to the therapist or business after the session, because either they felt it wouldn’t help or they were too embarrassed to say anything.
Hmmm… think about it: which of your clients have never come back and you don’t know why?
Horror Story #1. Environment: Beautiful, elite day spa, Experience: “I was having a great massage by Sam and realized that at times he was only using one hand to massage. Then I would hear what sounded like his “flip” cell phone closing. Yep, I was right, he was text messaging someone while giving me a massage!
I didn’t want to be the one who ratted him out. So, I told my nail tech who works at the same day spa and she informed the owner. Needless to say, Sam doesn’t work there anymore. It’s a real shame. He’s very talented and can read a tight muscle like few others.
I learned later, that at the time of my massage, Sam was on probation because another client had complained. That’s why he was let go–because he was warned, but kept texting.” Gretchen Anderson Publicist, Boise, Idaho
Horror Story #2. Environment: New Age Health Spa in Neversink, N.Y. Experience: “I lay on the table waiting and the massage therapist came into the room late by a few minutes. (several minutes more than just the “I’ll step out of the room while you change …”)
She had left me in a cold room with just a towel and sheet … no other props. The room was not even really a massage room … seemed more like a classroom with a table in it. The therapist was wearing jangly bracelets , slapped cold, runny lotion on me and rubbed me in no particular, therapeutic way. First an arm … then an opposite leg … just willy-nilly. With 20 minutes still left to go for my hour session, she said, “it’s not quite time but you’re done.” (The audacity of that still blows me away!)
I paid for an hour massage. And, yes I was done. I had to wipe off all the sticky wet lotion with the towel. Ugh. And, never ever stepped foot in that spa again.
It was 8 years ago and my new boyfriend (now husband) so proudly took me there as a gift so I never complained …if it had been today I most certainly would have.” Debbie Phillips, Life and Executive Coach, Martha’s Vineyard, MA
Horror Story #3 & 4. (Poor woman had two bad experiences!) Environment: High-end spa in Carmel, CA. Experience: “The spa was always really great at creating an environment that was calm and relaxing – one of those places where you feel your cares melt away as soon as you walk through the door. I was led to the room and stripped down, got under the sheet, and the therapist entered and talked with me a little bit about what I was looking to accomplish.
The treatment started as normal, but then she started talking and wouldn’t stop . I learned about her marriage breaking up, her new boyfriend, why she moved to the area, her history of abuse… I’d tried gently telling her I appreciated her stories, but I wanted to relax and would appreciate a peaceful environment. She would quiet down for a little while, but then would pipe up again and start chattering about something else.
Rather than having the experience be relaxing and soothing, I found myself irritated and agitated… and more stressed than when I initially walked in! Since I had asked her to stop, and she didn’t, I could’ve gone to the manager, but on some level I felt bad for her. Will I go back? Nope. I never did, because I didn’t want to chance running into her again. It was just too awkward an experience.”
And her second horror story… Horror Story #4. Environment: A place that gives massage students their first gig out of school. Experience: “I’ve been to the clinic a few times in the past. My therapist led me to the room and instructed me to disrobe, which I did.
At the time I was having an outbreak of psoriasis, which I outlined on my intake form. Psoriasis is an auto-immune disorder that can cause dry, red patches of skin on the body, but I’ve had plenty of treatments and never had any issue with it. My therapist entered the room and asked what I wanted to focus on, but when she pulled back the sheet, she started freaking out when she saw I had some red splotches on my leg.
She was backed against the door asking me if it was contagious, etc, etc, and wouldn’t touch me, then took off out of the room. I was humiliated. I got dressed and went to the front. The woman at the desk was apologetic, but I had nothing to say. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. Instead I called another of their locations and told them what happened, and asked them if they would be willing to take me in. They said they would, and discounted my service, which I thought was nice, considering it wasn’t even their location that presented the issue. After that incident, I didn’t go back to any of their locations.” Carly Milne, Los Angeles, CA. Journalist.
Horror Story #5. Environment: Hotel Spa (a very ritzy hotel in NYC — wall street area) Experience: “This was my first — and definitely my last. My business associate and I booked massages at the hotel. They didn’t have enough massage therapists available so I had to wait for my friend to finish then I would go in. The sitting area was comfortable — magazines, candles, and soft music. The therapist took my friend first. About 50 minutes later my friend came out and had a very funny face on her. She said “Your turn and I can’t wait to hear your response”. I’ve had 100’s of massages good, bad, and terrible however what I was about to experience was … so weird and so funky!
At first, everything is going ‘normal’ and I’m relaxing and feeling good. About 35 minutes into the session I hear her pull something from under the table. Her hand is on my leg. I’m thinking she is getting some oil or something. No big deal.
The next thing she does also didn’t surprise me — I’d experienced something similar in Spain. She climbed on the table and straddled me massaging my back. (Editor’s Note: It is always best to ask before you climb onto the table!)
But the next thing… blew me away. She sits on me.. buttock to buttock and LIES DOWN ON ME and starts shimming and shaking and using the heels of her feet on my back. Think someone convulsing on my back. I yelled “What the hell are you doing?” “Get the (blank) off of me!” She did and said this was normal in her massage. I told her that wasn’t normal!
I quickly put on my clothing, walked out, and my associate (who was a timid sort) said “I’m so glad you are feeling that way – I didn’t know what to do?”
I went to the hotel manager and told him about the massage I had just had at his spa. Thankfully his face blanched. He proceeded to find that the massage therapist was new — very new — this was her first day and that other people has mentioned her weird session. I was dumbfounded that people accepted her ‘massage’.
Even though the hotel refunded our money and gave us a free dinner along with a hand written apology letter from the manager, I’ve never been back to the hotel. It is doubtful I will go back to any place that never tests their massage therapists first.” Pegine Echevarria, Speaker/Author, Ponte Vedra Beach, FL
Horror Story #6 & 7. (Again, another woman who unfortunately had two horror stories too!) Environment: Bali, Thai massages at a local day spa. Experience: “Thai massage is one of my favorite forms of massage and I was really looking forward to it after a 19-hour flight from Los Angeles to Indonesia. I will never forget the two hours of misery I endured in at the hands of an inexperienced massage therapist with the WORST body odor ever . I think I broke a record in holding my breath! I was so focused on finding creative ways to bury my nose in the pillow without passing out that I barely noticed the bodywork. All I did notice was the wall clock that couldn’t tick fast enough.”
Horror Story #7: Environment: Nidah Spa inside the Eldorado Hotel in Santa Fe. Experience: “I booked the signature Turquoise massage. Instead of hot stones, the treatment used chunks of turquoise to provide the pressure to the back. It sounded exotic and kind of mystical. Trouble was, the therapist used WAY too much oil on my back. Turquoise nuggets were sliding EVERYWHERE and dropping to the floor, while the rivulets of oil dripping from my drenched hair and nape ran into my eyes and nostrils.
The therapist also COUNTED the # of strokes on each body part! How do I know? I counted along with her…up and down 6 times on the lower right leg, circled the knee cap 3 times, 6 times up and down the right thigh. Circle the knee cap again and repeat the action on the other leg. Same routine on the arms, and then she flipped me over and repeated the whole choreography.” Rada K. Tierney. Communications, Phoenix, AZ
Horror story #8: Environment: Calistoga, wine country of California, USA Experience: “My friend Eva and I were the only clients at the inn that day. My therapist, named Sun Bear was a sloppily dressed guy with greasy long hair. The room was freezing and austere. Sun Bear put on a small space heater and I got up onto the table. His damp, clammy hands began working my back. As the massage went on, the room got colder and I began to freeze up. “Please turn up the heat”, I said. He grunted and did so. It had no effect. I got colder and more uncomfortable as the massage went on while his hands, inexplicably, got clammier and damper. He was repulsive! (On some level there needs to be a comfort level with the person whose hands are on your body, and there was none present here.)
Toward the middle of the hour I felt more like I was enduring this torment rather than enjoying anything, and I started to feel resentful that I would have to pay for it. I asked him again to turn up the heat but he whiningly said this was as hot as it got. It was the only massage experience I’ve had that had me counting the minutes until it was over. By the time my hour was up I couldn’t wait to get out of there and put my clothes back on. I was shivering! Freezing cold and sore, also grossed-out by the inept skills and petulant attitude of Sun Bear. He shot me a dirty look when I neglected to give him a tip.
Typical too-nice woman that I am, I didn’t even complain. I collected my friend, who’d had a perfectly acceptable massage with another therapist, and we got the hell out of there. Jumping into the jacuzzi at another spa later on was pure bliss, as I tried to warm my body and push the horrible experience out of my mind.
Yes, I should have gone right up to the desk and said that I’d had an extremely sub-par experience and would need some kind of compensation if I were to ever return. But I didn’t and I’ve always regretted it.” Julie Tilsner, mom of two, Los Angeles, CA.
Again folks, as a community of well-meaning massage & wellness therapists, let us not allow history to repeat itself!
As was proven here, clients most often won’t tell you to your face they are unhappy with their massage from you, and you’ll never know why they were unhappy. Best case scenario, they just won’t come back. Worse case- they will tell everyone they know or post on the on-line directories and in social media to tell the world!
Share your experiences as either a practitioner or client below… AND, if you did have someone be kind enough to share what they were unhappy about, did you take it to heart and do something about it to change?
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I’ve always heard of men going to special massage parlors for that happy ending “relief” at the end, but I had no idea if that was something that ever happened for women.
I never judged anyone for going but felt it wouldn’t be something I would enjoy. Until I experienced it for myself.
I was at a regular spa. Not a special parlor, but your garden-variety spa known amongst all the new and popular chain spas that have popped up all over the good old USA, offering monthly spa memberships.
I wasn’t a member but I was having severe pain due to a sports injury and needed some relief. At the time, I was also going through a bad breakup.
My ex and I finally ended our long-term relationship; in the last few years of our relationship, the sex was non-existent. He never wanted it and he’d shut me out. It was emotionally crushing and killed my self-esteem. I wondered if I was still sexy and still lovable.
I had a male masseuse and he was the absolute right choice for my sore and broken-down body. At one point during the massage, as I was face up, my towel slipped revealing my right breast.
Rather than getting embarrassed, as I would’ve expected myself to be, it actually felt a little exciting to momentarily flash this masseuse. So, when it happened a second time (perhaps “accidentally” knocked off by his intentional tough kneading), I laughed and said, “I’m so sorry to flash you — twice.”
“That’s OK. I’m a man. I don’t mind.”
I noted that. And noted that I was excited. Sexually. Yet, this man was easily fifteen years older than I was and not even close to my physical type. It was just fun to have that kind of sexual tension in the air again after a few years of sexual drought.
Plus, my body was so relaxed that it was hard not to get excited. When you’re in a bad relationship and constantly fighting, the stress gets to you. Here was an hour of peace and relaxation just for me to forget everything.
I left that night and knew I’d return. Not only was the idea of teasing him again a bit exciting, but my neck and back — which were a mess — felt a million times better. The spa receptionist had definitely set me up with the right masseuse.
A month later, I went back and requested the same man. Except this time, when I entered the room there was a familiarity and playfulness.
As we got into the massage I noticed him getting particularly close to sensitive areas. For example, when he started to massage the backs of my thighs, he got particularly far into my buttocks and vaginal area.
I was already getting turned on, so by the time he flipped me over to work my front, I was curious: how far would it go this time?
As he massaged my upper chest area he told me, “I notice you’re very tight in your chest.”
“Oh?” I said, “What would help it feel better?”
“Well, I could do a breast massage. I wouldn’t be fresh. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“That sounds fine. I’m not a prude. Whatever you think will help.”
Obviously, the two of us had a different plan than just helping my tight chest muscles.
He pulled down the sheet and began to rub my breasts. He didn’t touch my nipples (sadly), but just his hands on my breasts were enough to have me continue to pull down the towel until it exposed my belly button and above.
“I hope you don’t mind. I’m getting a little hot.”
“That’s OK. I don’t mind at all. I’m getting turned on.”
And with that, he moved from behind my head and massaging my breasts to standing in front of me, pulling down the towel all the way, and “working” my clitoris.
Finally, I asked for what I wanted: “Will you go down on me?” I got my wish and I have to admit, it was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had.
My “happy” tune changed, though, when he asked if he could have sex with me, and I said absolutely not. I suppose I was selfish; I wanted to get off and didn’t care at all if he did or not.
Afterwards, as the massage ended and it was time for me to get dressed, I started to feel awkward. That female guilt, something a man would never feel, started to hit me.
As I thanked him for the massage, he handed me his card for a private at-home massage service. I said I’d call but as I walked away I knew I wouldn’t. And now I really felt like a man (minus that guilt).
I waited a year to return to that spa and made sure to never request him again, despite the excitement. That after-orgasm regret stuck with me. Besides, what if this was something he did with many women? How would I know?
And when he asked to have sex it felt way too real. Not that I should’ve been surprised but that the “fantasy” became all too real and I knew I couldn’t handle any more than what he did to me. I knew his “card” was really him asking to have sex with me, and I didn’t want that.
Almost two years later, the experience still excites me but the guilt is gone. I had fun, and while I probably wouldn’t do it again, I’m glad I have the memory.
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