Is there truth in stereotypes? The answer is debatable, but oftentimes we learn from them. Following are some questions that may give you insight into stereotypes you will probably recognize. When you see yourself in the answers it will be as irritating as sand in your bathing suit. When you let others know you see them in the following portrayals, they will be irritated—and educated.

1. How do you summarize your education?

A.
I can recite all origins and insertions while balancing on a Swiss ball with one leg tucked behind my ear and sketching out portal circulation in charcoal with my other foot.

B.
I did well in school. Anyway, most everyone passed in the end, even that bonehead I helped through kinesiology class.

C.
I am the bonehead from kinesiology class.

D.
I have lots of certificates on the wall. A buddy of mine has Photoshop.

2. What is your marketing plan?

A.
I devote one day a week to networking. I build my contacts into an influential referral base. My plan for a chain of clinics and eventual world domination is laid out in my 236-page business plan that I meditate upon each morning in my Japanese garden. Chad, my personal assistant, will e-mail it to you once he’s finished peeling my grapes.

B.
My main advertising expense is the Yellow Pages. I’ve done a few speeches and mail out some fliers once in a while. Hope is a plan, right?

C.
I throw my business cards out the window of a moving car. I shouldn’t have to do anything besides massage, since I’m such a great therapist.

D.
I shout my name from a moving car while honking the horn.

3. What lubricants do you use?

A.
I offer powder or a variety of oils, and I sell an exclusive brand of my own manufacture made from the sweetbreads and squeezings of nearly extinct animals.

B.
I use massage oils and gels, mostly hypoallergenic.

C.
I can’t afford to use oil, but I do have sweaty palms from all the palpable desperation.

D.
I’m partial to gun oil, which Mama also sells next door. You get a free assault rifle cozy with your second massage. Funny, nobody’s come back to get that cozy yet.

4. What is the atmosphere in your workspace?

A.
The rooms have an Asian feel, though all the marble is imported from Italy. The bathroom fixtures seduce with their classic Venetian stylings. I test the water pressure on the bidets daily. I prefer 500 pounds of pressure per square inch.

B.
It is clean, uncluttered, and IKEA-esque.

C.
We’ve set up a couple planks over sawhorses in a bedroom until we can get into a real office. Well, it’s not so much a spare bedroom as it is a nursery, but the twins don’t cry too loudly.

D.
We get back to nature by massaging outside, though I admit Colorado is a bit chilly in January. You can see the highway from the table, which is nice. Sometimes, as the semis blow past, the wind tears the sheets off the clients.

5. What are your retirement plans?

A.
My in-house broker actually lives in my house so I can manage my stock portfolio on a minute-by-minute basis. I’m deeply into platinum and plutonium futures … and arms deals with Angola.

B.
A friend knows a guy who set me up with a plan that comes out of my bank account automatically. So far I haven’t had (m)any NSF notices.

C.
I’ll never be able to retire and will sustain myself with a telemarketing job or greeting people at a big box store until that happy day I finally drop … unless I win the lottery, of course.

D.
I’m guessing you would need bread for something like that and, hey man, all my bread goes to like, buying bread. If I could pay for insurance, maybe I could fake my own death and collect.

6. What are your record keeping methods?

A.
My clientele all fill out a 10-page case history followed by intensive grilling until they cry, at which point I look forward to treating them for the 10 minutes left in the first session.

B.
I go over an intake form, try to keep up with the SOAP notes and the income/expense ledger. It’s a necessary evil, like bathing suits.

C.
I find out how much I made each year when I add it up in April. I love surprises. Rough estimates are okay with the IRS, right?

D.
SOAP? I’ve got something with lavender and patchouli around here somewhere. It covers up the smell of gun oil.

7. When did you last get a massage?

A.
Within the last two weeks. I always pay for it so I can maximize the enjoyment of being hypercritical.

B.
I swap with another therapist once in a while. I feel hypocritical otherwise.

C.
What? You mean since massage school?

D.
I’m too stressed out to get a massage. Why are you looking at me like that?

8. What is your personal presentation?

A.
All our therapists must pass a rigorous audition process. Our lawyers made us eliminate the swimsuit category last year, however. Oh, and I do so hate whiners. “I want lunch! I need a break! I’m going into labor!” Don’t these people know I’ve got a cabin cruiser to buy?

B.
Fresh breath and no hang nails. I have a basic knowledge of how to use an iron.

C.
You must have a very sensitive nose. I don’t smell anything.

D.
I tie my hair back: nose hair and armpit hair, too.

9. What is your personal philosophy?

A.
Golden rule: he who has the gold makes the rules. Mwaaa-hahaha!

B.
Do whatever you can, whenever you can. Be happy. Sometimes it’s hard for me to take my own advice.

C.
Do unto others before they have a chance to do unto you.

D.
Can you spare a dime?

10. What’s your perspective on sense of humor?

A.
Massage therapy is deadly serious business. Only we can prevent the coming apocalypse.

B.
I watch the Comedy Network each night while I ice my wrists.

C.
I laugh out loud at Funky Winkerbean and the Weather Channel, but it could be because I’m high.

D.
Garfield is good, though sometimes the complexity goes over my head.

11. How do you envision the future of the profession?

A.
Aside from my worldwide chain of spas that will crush all competition, all massage therapists should be compelled to work in hospitals. Massage school training should be on par with that of neurologists, and 20 times more expensive to keep out the riff raff.

B.
I hope to keep on doing what I’m doing, helping my clients. The truth is, I just want to be left alone to do my thing.

C.
I’ll have the crystal ball I ordered on E-bay soon so I can tell you. Come back Tuesday around lunchtime.

D.

There is no future. Things will decay into a Mad Max postapocalyptic wasteland by Tuesday around lunchtime.

12. How frequently do you pursue continuing education?

A.
I take seminars in Bali several times a year. If you can’t afford that, you can’t be a very serious therapist, can you?

B.
I take a few seminars here and there every year and through my reading I’m always learning something. Jeez, ease up, will you? I’m tap dancing as fast as I can.

C.
I do one seminar each year or two because it’s required. I decide what to take based solely on my interests, the cost, how close it is to home, and if there are donuts. Okay, mainly it’s about the donuts.

D.
I said, “Can you spare a %$%#$@&!! dime?!”

13. If not for massage, what would you be?

A.
A general. Or the surgeon general. Or both.

B.
A real estate agent or selling cars somewhere and hating myself in my spare time.

C.
Still selling jalapeno-spiced coffee to yuppies and failing to finish my master’s thesis in Elizabethan poetry.

D.
In jail on some trumped up charge ‘cause the world hates all us free-thinking types. Beer?

14. Who are your heroes?

A.
Trager, Upledger, Rolf, Napoleon, and everybody on Ugly Betty except Ugly Betty.

B.
Bond, Spider-Man, Buffy, Einstein, and Jon Stewart. I’m not sure in what order.

C.
Borat and Stephen Colbert, and, yes, I take them seriously.

D.
Darth Vader, any Bond villain, and that kid in junior high who TP’d the principal’s house on Halloween. That still makes me giggle.

15. What massage technique(s) do you use?

A. All of them.

B.
Swedish and a mixture of styles I’ve picked up over time. I call it the Swedish medley.

C.
It doesn’t have a name. It’s just what I channel from Urk, a ghost being from another dimension 20 centuries old.

D. “Hulk, smash!”

16. What do you charge?

A. All of it.

B.
Pretty much what everyone else in my area charges. I wish everyone else charged more.

C.
Donations of scrap metal or pieces of cloth. Okay, I’ll settle for a single kind word from another human being.

D.
Whatever nits I find in your hair.

17. What is your self-care routine?

A.
I exfoliate in a bath of imported sand from Tunis cleaned with the salivary glands of sweatshop children.

B.
I stretch and exercise when I can. Stop looking at my stomach.

C.
I’m dodging creditors all the time. It’s just like dodge ball, except the ball is my future smacking me in the face again and again.

D.
I run … from the FBI.

18. What is your most prized massage tool?

A.
All the whip smart cunning I use to leave my mark on the world. My legacy shall be like a huge beautiful palace (or a gigantic crater.)

B.
My heart and mind and my hands. My poor, tired hands.

C.
My screwdriver. I don’t mean the drink, though that’s more relaxing than my massage.

D. Two words: belt sander.

19. How do you run your business?

A. Like a boot camp.

B. Like an office.

C. Are you trying to give me a guilt trip?

D.
I don’t buy into that whole power trip, dude!

20. What are your business hours?

A.
Same as 7/11 for my army of therapists; I work through the night to plot strategy with Chad. He thinks we can annex Poland by lunchtime Tuesday.

B. Posted.

C.
Only when I feel the energy is right. My best clients are psychic.

D. Hey, I’m around mostly. Whatever.

Understanding
Your Answers
If you answered mostly A.

Other therapists openly fear you and privately loathe you. Of course they are jealous of your success, but you didn’t have to be quite so gleeful when you crushed the competition with your Prada shoes (you devil!) You can be very effective as long as you don’t lose your temper. You could be loved if not for your fear of vulnerability. Your image makes others think your smile is avaricious, even when you are sincere. Stop reading and go! There are worlds to build in your image before brunch!

• Pro & Con: You will have continued business success because you’re willing to do all the things others won’t. You’ll chase deadbeats, deal with all the paperwork and claims facilitators, and do whatever it takes. You may have a high turnover of therapists, but they are a dime a dozen and business is business. Who needs friends?

• You come from: fear and control.

• You look: fierce, but stylish.

•
Your power animal: the cobra, with cybernetic implants to make you more lethal.   

• You channel: Donald Trump and Godzilla’s love child.

• If you were a rock star you’d be: Madonna. You run your business with a fierce intensity which would make longshoremen and Marines tremble.

• Your motto: “Bow before me, thy lord and master!”

• Advice: Sand clutched too tightly slips through your fingers. Get a massage and help others to relax by letting go yourself a bit. (No, it doesn’t mean you’ll let yourself go. Breathe!)

If you answered mostly B.

Other therapists are comfortable with you because you’re Joe or Jane Therapist—you’re just like them. You know you could do some things better, but you’ve got a handle on the basics. Your clients worry secretly that you won’t be around to serve them in the long term.

• Pro & Con: You know through experience a to-do list is never done, yet you keep adding to your to-do list. You worked for the therapist who answered mostly A before you ran away screaming.

• You come from: compassion and sleep-deprivation.

• You look: at your clients as equals in the dance because you know you’ll need help someday, too.

• Your power animal: the workhorse.

• You channel: the love child of Jimmy Stewart and Dawn Wells.

• If you were a rock star, you’d be: Paul McCartney (pre-Heather Mills.)

• Your motto: “Nothing works unless I do.” (You just wish sometimes you didn’t have to work at everything so hard. Hey, shouldn’t you go pick up your kids?)

• Advice: Get a massage this week, and then take time for some sober thought on what you need to do for your family and your practice.

If you answered mostly C.

Your former clients are talking about you with their new therapists right now.

• Pro & Con: You’re not evil, just disorganized and fairly clueless. You wouldn’t go to you for massage. Your failure will remain a mystery to you for all your days, though your friends will have a few definite ideas. You could turn things around. You don’t have to be a genius, but you have to be smart enough to ask for help and then listen.

• You come from: anger because your clients just don’t get you.

• You look: down on your clients because they need you.

• Your power animal: chicken pot pie.

• You channel: Urk, the aforementioned ghost being.

• If you were a rock star, you’d be: Rick James.

• Your motto is: “Um … I dunno.”

• Advice: You need a mentor in the business—maybe a reality show intervention with Dr. Phil would help. If you speak 75 percent less and smile 50 percent more you might wangle a job with someone from Category A. If they don’t fire you within a month they’ll force a discipline upon you that could mask your incompetence. You’ll be bitter and ungrateful, but you’ll eat. Don’t work with a Category B person. First they’ll try to be your friend, but your of lack interpersonal and entrepreneurial skills will slowly sully their reputation by association and they’ll want to strangle you with your own sheets. Don’t judge them. You drove them to it.

All Ds?

The job counseling center is down the block. Brush your tooth before you go.

• Pro & Con: Someone loves you because somebody stayed around long enough to read this article to you.

• You come from: that spot by the interstate.

• You look: like a hyper-extreme makeover challenge doomed to fail and never to be broadcast. You didn’t think they all worked out did you?

• Your power animal: the slug.

• You channel: surf.

• If you were a rock star, you’d be: Tito Jackson’s and Rick James’s love child.

• Your motto is: “What? Me worry?”

• Advice: You are already distracted. Never mind. Beer?

 If you answered mostly A, B, C, or D you’ve found a reason to be annoyed with Robert Chute, the writer, existential horrorist, and book binding glue enthusiast. Had he gone to that Second City audition to which he was invited at 23 you would not be afflicted with this quiz today. Instead he became a massage therapist 15 years ago. Contact him at consciousbodywork@hotmail.com.