My wife's friend at lunch yesterday extolled a local 'spa' where they cover your naked body with hot, heavy stones. I'm sitting there thinking: And they charge you to take the burning stones off of you. Likewise, the thought of a stranger kneading my naked body makes me so tense that I give masseuses hand cramps. 'It's like trying to massage a trampoline,' I've been told.

This whole idea of paying someone to beat you because it feels so good when it stops reminds me just too much of all the worst jobs I've ever had. When you find yourself getting through the day by fantasizing about loosening your tie and taking off your shoes at home, it's not time to get shirts with bigger collars and to replace the foam inserts in your shoes. It's time to get a new job.