I Paid For This?

I was just sitting here thinking about the time I was at the mall and actually paid a short, frail looking dude for a 'face in the chair' massage.  How was I too know I'd leave there worse than before? How did I know he would make me feel like my arms would eventually fall off my shoulders? For your entertainment, this is how that episode went:
Me:"I could sooooo use a massage."
Chinese or Asian or Vietnamese or Mexican man: "Oh-a, you come here for-a rub! You sit righ here. I make-a you feel welax."
Me, thinking to myself: "Perfect.  I'm here. Might as well."
Man: "Sit here. Face down."
Me, thinking to myself again: "I've heard that once or twice."
Man: "You-a pay before." (Oh, sure! Very untrusting.)
Me: "OK.  How much?"
Man: "Sit here. You-a pay me now."
I gave the guy a twenty.  I didn't get any change back, so I either paid exactly enough or I just got stiffed! I sat on the chair, face in the chair hole and ready to  'welax'.
Halfway through my session I begin to realize I may have just paid to be murdered in the mall.  There was no 'welaxing' going on here! My eyes were watering from the pain but since my cheap ass already paid, I would endure as much as possible. 
That didn't last long! I was like, "scuse me,,,you're kinda hurting me."
Man- "Oh-a it-a feel good after. You wait."
For what, I thought? To have someone carry my body out of the mall?  I was not enjoying this damn massage one itsy bit! He's used his bony elbows to poke along my spine, which really hurt, and he used his monstrous hands to pound the shit out of my back! He started pulling my arms and asked if that felt OK.
Me- "Uh, dislocating my arms NEVER feels good".
Man- "Oh-a you like, very good".
Clearly he did not understand my pain.  Austin, who was about 5 or 6 at the time, puts his hands on his knees, squats downs and puts his face right under mine.
Austin- "Mom, does it feel nice?"
Me- "Get me a gun!!"
Confused, Austin just walks back to the bench.
The man continues to 'rub' me, and when I say 'rubbed', I mean 'beat up'.  I was now even more stressed from my stress relieving session.  Why in the hell did I do this? At the end of the session, which by the way I was glad it was over, the little hulk tells me I should begin having massages more frequently.  Uh, ya, or I could just stay home and drink! Less invasive, less painful and much better than being beat up like a gang member in a maximum security prison.  I got off that chair, looked the man in the eye, gave him the dirtiest look thought to myself, if I weren't so damn sore right now I would kick your weenie ass, right here, right now! What really happened: I got off the chair, smiled and said, "thank you, that was wonderful.  I'll be sure to be back."  That was 6 years ago. 

~Stressed