Right now I am doing a bad thing: I have three phone calls to return and I am writing instead. Both of these things are important, but not returning calls is the business equivalent to having someone knock on your window, peering into the shop, unable to get into your business because you’ve locked the door.
Now, I’ve been promising myself to get back into the blogging spirit of things for some time, so this counts toward business goals: preventing burnout by having a bit of fun. But there are slots to fill. So this, and then.
One of the biggest things that has changed for me in my nearly 15 years of practice is my system of checks and balances: personally and professionally. I need them, else I flounder. When you get lopsided — easily angry or too needy, too busy or not busy enough — what do you do? How do you get back on track?
At moments like these, I think about Gordon Ramsay.
If you aren’t familiar with this purple-faced, pompous, punitive Brit chef, perhaps if I strung together length of profanities here and brandished some cutlery…
Oh yeah. That guy.
“Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares” “Hell’s Kitchen” etc. The blond dude in the chef jacket screaming at people in the kitchen.
No he’s not nice at ALL. But behind the sensational, savage take-downs, is a passionate man. He cares: a lot: about good food. Good service. Good work ethic. (this is more obvious in his BBC programs, so don’t let his Fox persona totally alienate you: his earlier shows convey more ardor despite the persecutions. Sort of like the Zen Buddhist master who goes around smacking students with a stick while they’re meditating.)
Often (and it’s painful to see) he upbraids a well-meaning but misguided chef who’s turns out entree after entree of hopelessness, stuff they learned in school or dreamt up on their own: maraschino cherry chicken. Minced steak with lima puree. Pickle waffles.
“C’mon, mate, what the f*ck are you playing at?” he’ll roar. “Nobody’s going to eat that or want it in this town! Can you make me: a roasted chicken? Just a roasted chicken with a few nice sides?”
He has some Kitchen Rules, most of which are surprisingly adaptable to good massage therapy practice. Here’s a good article: offering “100 Curse Free Lessons from Gordon Ramsay” in building software. These are 100 points that are easily transferable to any industry one cares about: software…food…massage.
Gordon slams people around because he gives a sh*t, mate. Could you or I tolerate that? It would be hard. Maybe not necessary. But it gets me thinking.
We don’t have the Gordon Ramsay equivalent for massage therapists? (“Writing a Blue Streak” comes close and I thank and bless you Allissa.) But maybe we bloody well should, because massage is a lot closer to giving someone a cup of coffee than it is to writing a prescription.
We serve others: and when that service is poor, business dries up, or never really takes off. Like chefs, we massage therapists can get all dreamy and unrealistic about our work, sloppy in our execution and even disrespectful of the very people we say we want to please: our customers.
I like to bring up restaurant work as an apt correlative for massage therapy practices (“On Serving: Table to Table” was one such attempt) because I care about both fields. I was a server for only four measly years but did it in one of the most lauded, established restaurants in Belfast Maine: Chase’s Daily.
My worst days as a server were the ones I got too personally involved. I was really in to my own self, my own sense of fairness, and not keeping my eye on the prize: the scope of the day, and turning over tables. That was my job. Being imperceptible yet personal in my work: my job. Keeping things moving = job.
Like a good meal, a good massage sells itself. It needs no promotion. You don’t have to pull out the words. People who like your work will be more than happy to put the words out there for you: online, in print, and that most prized possession of ANY entrepreneur (you do see yourself as an entrepreneur, right? Especially if you’re in business for yourself?) : positive word of mouth. Out there on the street. Working for you 24-7.
When you are the best practitioner on more than one person’s lips, you are an overnight success, even if it takes more than 10 years to get there.
Years of showing up, honing your craft, being there when no one is there, being there when you are tired and everyone wants something from you, returning phone calls (that reminds me), not getting distracted by ambiance or retail or modalities or minutia (ahem, self). Not being romantic about your work, or believing your own hype.
It means no new modalities until you’ve got the perfect massage in your hands. Setting boundaries and refusing to be shoved around: either by your clients or your own sense of self. It means having your customer relations schtick down pat.
It means: a nice roasted chicken with some sides. And no pickle waffles.
I’m all for continuing education, changing up your sessions, offering 1 or 2 new treatments, rethinking your client base and getting new linens (for crying out loud!) but what people really want is reliable good service. Over and over. Month after month. Year after year.
Don’t change it up on me all the time and think it’s better. Give me one simple thing and make it excellent.
Do your side work – all of it.
And don’t give up.