Horrible Nails

My toenails were in desperate need of a make-over. My pink polish was cracked, chipped, and half peeled off, not to mention my cuticles were a disaster and the heels of my feet... well, let's just say you could crack nuts on them. Off to the nail salon!

I chose a salon I don't visit very often because they're a teensy-bit too pricey but my feet were such a disaster so I thought the occasion called for a little extra pampering! It's a big salon with about ten pedicure chairs, five lining each of the side walls, and there are at least ten manicure tables in the center of the room. It' s a pretty clean, well maintained, largely staffed facility...

I entered at 10:08 (I know this because Hubby called to whine about some missing keys at exactly that time) and told the front desk that I would like a pedicure. I was immediately asked to please wait, so I grabbed the latest issue of Us Weekly and sat down. About five minutes later there were two other women also waiting, and one of the "technicians" came over and said a bunch of things to all of us really quickly, most of which wasn't in English. She was gesturing me toward a pedicure chair in the far back on the right. "Do you want me in that chair?" I ventured. She nodded and half-walked me over toward it.

I sat in the chair and opened my magazine. It was now about 10:15. A few minutes later another staff person came over and filled my foot-tub with scalding hot water and some blue fizzies. I thought I could muster enough strength to deal with the boiling temperature, but when I saw that my nail polish was beginning to peel itself off I flagged the man down and asked for some cool water to please be added. He laughed and said something to someone in his language. Humph. Excuse me for not wanting my insides to boil!

I sat there and read my magazine, page after page for what felt like an eternity. Everyone else in the salon was being helped... everyone but me. I looked at the clock, 10:35. Hmm... I loudly closed my magazine, "cleared" my throat, and sat a little more forward in my chair. I was beginning to get pretty annoyed that no one had bothered to help me. The two chairs next to me had been empty up until a few minutes ago, so I leaned forward slightly aiming my body toward the "technician" working on the girl to my left. In my most patient voice I asked, "I'm sorry, do you know how much longer it's going to be?" She didn't look up, didn't respond, didn't acknowledge my presence. I huffed quietly to myself and muttered under my breath, "I've been waiting forever!"

And then the "technician" said something under her breath and another woman came over, the one who half-guided me to my seat, and said it would be just a moment and pointed to another "technician" who was doing something by the sink. The time was now 10:40 and I was contemplating just getting up and leaving. Then the woman at the sink said something I couldn't interpret to the woman in front of me, and back and forth a few of the tech's chattered, sometimes gesturing at me and sometimes gesturing at other clients.

Then the woman looked at me with a plastered smile on her face and said, "It be just few more minute. Just few more. Maybe 5-10." And we all know in a nail salon when they say 5-10, it means 10-20 or whenever they feel like getting around to you. So I raised my eyebrows and said, "Oh, really? I can wait a couple more minutes, but not ten." She didn't know what to make of this and just kind of stared at me, plastered smile remaining. She repeated that it would be 5-10 minutes and could I please wait. I told her (as pleasantly as possible, keeping my seething temper locked in my head), "Well I've already been waiting for over a half an hour..." she just kept staring so I continued, anger now barely contained, "I have other errands to run and things to do today." She jumped in, smile still in place but with an added fake giggle, "Oh we just have lots of appointments this morning. Lots of people." So I said, "That's fine, I understand that you have appointments but no one told me that when I walked in. If someone had told me earlier you were busy I would have just come back this afternoon... instead of waiting here soaking."

I could see this was going no where. So I made the "forget it" gesture with my body and got up to leave. She quickly came over to help drive off my feet, which were fluorescent pink from the water. As I was trying to quickly slip into my flip-flops and grab my purse she was saying, "Sorry. So sorry! You come back? Come back today!" I was thinking, "Not over my dead body, lady."

Then I had to face the most humiliating walk of shame EVER and wind my way through several other chairs, all filled with clients whose nails were gleaming, and make my way quickly out the door. The clock in my car flashed 10:46; what a waste of an hour! I was so embarrassed and completely ticked off that I almost smashed my car pulling out of the parking space. I'm a reasonable person, and if they had just told me from the beginning that they were busy I would have made an appointment for later that day.

I came home, snapped at Hubby who has no clue at all about nail salons, and went about the rest of my day. Hubby tried to make light of the situation by saying, "Hey, at least you've got clean feet!" I frowned at him and told him they weren't cleaned at all, they were pruny, blistered and pink from the water. I wonder if nail salons have an HR department so I can call to complain to someone... I'm thinking no.