Stop Asking Me Questions You are Making My Head Hurt
After a tiring day in the city I decided to drop into a spa for a relaxing express facial. My complicated life was starting to engrave lines (albeit fine ones) across my forehead. All I wanted is someone to caress away my tension and tell me I had the skin of a sixteen year old girl (just lie to me please?). But I was about to discover that getting an express facial just isn’t as express or as relaxing as it sounds. Because I had never visited their spa I was duly asked to fill out a form with all my particulars. Ok, fine. Then, upon entering the room I was asked to fill out another form with suspiciously similar questions. Were they trying to determine if I had been fabricating my contact details five minutes earlier? Stop frowning (you will only make the wrinkles bigger) and fill out the stupid form, I tell myself. After donning the Velcro towel, the hairline protector and the hair net I clambered onto the bed and awaited my half hour of pampering bliss. The therapist reappeared. She was holding another piece of paper. I feel the wrinkles turning into deep, dark crevices. “I’m going to ask you some questions first of all.” Oh great. I smiled graciously and motioned for her to continue. The smile faded as she folded out the piece of paper. Twice. It reached her knees. She said apologetically, “I’m afraid there are a lot of questions but I’m going to get through them as quickly as possible.” Geesh. By the time we get through them all the facial will have to be slopped onto my face then hosed away instantly with a high-pressure nozzle. Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to stop stressing – that’s what landed your age-challenged face here in the first place. The first question was asking for my date of birth. I had to almost physically restrain myself from tearing off the hair protector thingy and gagging her with it. Were they trying to make me angry? At what point was I ever going to be allowed to lie down, close my eyes and stop thinking? After the ridiculous interrogation about my lifestyle habits, medical history and
bad habits was finally over the facial finally began. I wanted to ask if my responses in any way influenced the method by which she applied the facial until I realised I already knew the answer. Of course not. They are there to make the establishment look professional, scientific - qualified even. All that paperwork would be carefully placed together into a neat little pile, then into a file, then sooner or later, into a recycling bin where in its next life it could serve a much more useful purpose - perhaps as a handsome cheque written out to the genius who banishes useless questionnaires (here’s to hoping).
To be honest though the blissful minutes that followed were worth jumping through the paper hoops and I would go again (they’re just lucky they didn’t ask me to fill out a feedback form - oh but wait, I just got an email…).
To be honest though the blissful minutes that followed were worth jumping through the paper hoops and I would go again (they’re just lucky they didn’t ask me to fill out a feedback form - oh but wait, I just got an email…).
