Massage therapists tend toward the so-called “P” axis of the Myers-Briggs personality inventory, the one that is variously elaborated as Perceiving or Process, go with the flow, you know the kind of thing. I am a “J”, which stands for Judging, and from my perspective that Flow thing looks more like Flop — aimlessly around in the mud until you convince yourself you have gotten somewhere.
What I am saying is that, while I like a good goof-off as much as anyone, if I am working toward an end I want all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted, thank you, the silver in the appropriate drawers and the clock set to atomic time goddammit. Do you know what it takes to get a good clock in your massage room?
Digital clocks are no good. You don’t get the visceral, experiential picture of the circuit of the hour that I allot for most of my appointments — yes, I’ll run over if five more minutes is necessary to get the client sorted out right, and I allow the buffer time needed to stay on schedule if I do, but I want that partitioned circle to tell me graphically what I’m doing. You’d think the standard ten-buck kitchen clock with a double-A battery in the back would be fine, then, but have you heard those things tick?
Ten-fifteen years ago I lucked out on a faux-wood, six-dollar clock at Montgomery Ward that didn’t tick as bad as the rest of them, and this week it finally went tits up, losing five minutes a day even with a fresh battery. This is not acceptable. I cannibalized the clock from over the stove.
“Your clock ticks louder than it used to,” commented my eight o’clock client immediately.
So I find that at last, in 2011, there are a handful of clocks on the market boasting something called “quiet sweep technology” that doesn’t tick you out of your f*&king gourd. Mama was all over that sucker, God love Amazon and super saver shipping because of course the thing cost thirty bucks.
It’s forty-two years since they put a man on the moon, you know?