ithinkironyisSOfunny and I went to get a mani/pedi on Saturday. A relaxing afternoon activity. For some people.
The salon was packed with people, and the receptionist greeted everyone with a gust of energy - some might say too much energy. She stood over our shoulders as we selected our colors, remarking on our choices. I was debating between hot pink and neon pink, and she assured me that there was no debate, as the hot pink was perfect for summer. This innocent exchange foreshadowed what was to come.
She asked ithinkironyissofunny and I if we would like shoulder massages along with our nail treatments. I said no, ithinkironyisSOfunny said yes. I laughed at ithinkironyisSOfunny's delivery, the receptionist took that as me saying yes. As I sat in a chair, Cindy appeared behind me, unzipping the top half of my dress, and going after my knots for a dollar a minute. I resigned myself to accept that I probably needed a massage anyway.
Enter the manicurist. She asked if I would like to trim my nails: "You don't want to cut, do you? No, I don't think you do." Um, I'm pretty sure that is leading the witness. "Actually, I would - I like them short and round." She made a face and put her head down to attack my cuticles.
The pedicurist had trouble understanding my English, which always stresses me out in nail salons, because I don't want to seem like an a-hole for being unable to decipher her accent, but I also want to make sure that she understands exactly what I want. Manicurist helped to translate. With attitude.
I chose Flurry Up (Sephora by OPI) as a top-coat. Initially, I wanted the glitter only on the tips of my nails. Manicurist's earlier face made an encore appearance as she explained this to the pedicurist. When it came time for the glitter application, I changed my mind and decided I wanted a full top-coat on my toes and just the tips on my nails. Manicurist shook her head, "Full-coat is better. Not just tip." Maybe she was right?
When the time came to pay, she had already run my credit card for the mani/pedi/massage, but there was no space to leave a tip. I sat drying my nails, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do, as the receptionist had somehow disappeared. So awkward. I kept making eye-contact with this woman across the way, who was staring at me, expressionless, hardly easing my anxiety. Eventually, Cindy came over to say thank you and I took that as my cue to hand over some cash. Awkwardly.
Loud sigh.
Next time I should probably just take a Xanax.
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