It was the summer of 86.  I had just graduated high school and was off to UC Santa Barbara in the fall.  Most of my friends were backpacking across Europe or taking hedonistic cruises to Mexico as their graduation gift.  “You’ll get a gift when you graduate college,” Dad stated.  My over-protective parents weren’t about to let me wander off overseas, so I took a full-time job locally with Western Temp Agency.

From the get go, they loved me.  I didn’t realize how easy it was getting a job if you had the least bit of common sense and typing skills.  Vicki and Patti were the two ladies that ran the small office that summer.  They told me stories of the applicants they’d get, lying about their skills.  “One guy lied about every job on his resume, it was unbelievable,” Patti told me.  “He even had fake references, did he not think I would check them?”  She was clearly insulted by the imposter temp.

I became their temp mule.  Whenever they got a big job, they sent me in, like the cleaner.  I worked across the San Fernando Valley as a secretary, getting job offers at most places I pranced through.

One day, after a long haul of Xeroxing at my Blue Cross gig, Patti called me to tell me that they landed a new client, Costco.  “We need you to go out there tomorrow and sell Almond Roca for the day.”  Sell Almond Roca? That was the stuff my old relatives in Jersey kept in candy dishes.

But wait, there’s more…

Yesterday morning I woke up, and had only one thing in mind — my acupuncture/massage combo.  After a long week, I was ready and eager for some TLC from Dr. Tsu.  I walked over to my acupuncturist’s office by St. Mark’s Place.  I had been seeing Dr. Lap Tsu now for about four years; just seeing her face made me more calm.  I was the first appointment of the day.  I laid down as Dr. Tsu asked me how I was doing, while she gently inserted needles into my head, chest and limbs.

“Ok,” I started.  “You sleep better?” she was always concerned.  “Sometimes, but the Bowery is so loud on the weekends.”  “Hmmm,” she said with a pensive look.

She turned the lights down and closed my curtain as I laid in silence for half an hour and relaxed.

Afterward, the massage therapist, a pleasant young woman, Cindy (her American name), came in.  “Hello, how you today?” She asked in a thick Chinese accent.  “Great, thank you,” I offered and she began kneading me immediately.   I laid there quietly face down on the table.  I was in Heaven.

Suddenly, the front door opened and the dangling bells jingled as another client came in.  He had made an appointment for a massage and specifically wanted a woman.  So Cindy stopped working on me as I lay there wondering what was going on and next thing I know, Owen steps in to take over.

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