OMG! I was doing my Friday ritual. I was getting my nails done at my regular spot. I walk in. Everybody knows me. I give hugs, I pick out my nail color ( I chose a gorgeous, springy yellow this time instead of my normal black, dark brown or dark blue) I sit down in the pedi spa chair thingy and I’m chillin. I fumble with the massager. I start thumbing through the newest Real Simple magazine, when IT happens.
Some very, very, very–dare I say– Ghettoi chica starts screaming at my manicurist, Holly (totally not her given name). Holly is the sweetest, nicest, does my nails the bangin’-est, little person you ever want to meet. So for me to witness this travesty!–hold on, let me calm down a bit.
It turns out, there was a young, uh…lady (I use the term loosely) who was also getting her nails done. According to Holly this chic changed her nail color on her fingers and her toes like 5 times. Sweet, patient Holly, just kept redoing them without question. So then I come in and because I’m a regular, and Holly is my girl, (and probably because I tip well), Holly hi-tails it over to me and attempts to have crazy chic sit under the dryer thing. Crazy chic decides then that she wants designs.
After Holly gets me started with my feet, she attends to the girls design. After Holly finishes, the girl decides she doesn’t like the design and she wants them taken off.
Now.
Did I mention that Holly is the sweetest, nicest, does my nails the bangin-est, little person you ever want to meet? Okay. So if the girl was polite, it would have been done, no question. That’s just Holly’s way.
But this girl starts screaming at Holly for no reason at all. Holly’s eyes got like saucers. She was stunned. The girl is calling Holly all kinds of stupids and that her work was horrible and she doesn’t want it and that she wants Holly to give her her $5 back for the design when Holly never charged her for the design. (breathe).
So Holly, politely gets up from in front of this girl and begins again to attend to me. I’m not saying anything. I’m just sitting like–holy shit. I really can’t fight and if something pops off, how in THE hell will I have Holly’s back?! Then the girl gets super mad because Holly is working on me–mind you, Holly barely speaks English–let’s be clear. The girl keeps calling Holly stupid and crazy and telling her: “Why you working on her?! You ain’t finished me yet?! You so stupid!”
Now my eyes are like saucers. I’m not saying anything. I’m about to say something. This girl looks like she could take me. Imma just sit here. Somebody get to this girl so she can leave please!–That’s what’s going on in my head. Can I be clear, I DO NOT get my nails done at a hood spot, per say. Okay.
Finally, Holly replies hardly composed: “I not stupid! You wait 5 minute and somebody else help you.” So another manicurist tends to this whack job and she’s still talking shit–loud and wrong– and I’m still looking at my magazine and fidgeting with the back massage thing. At this point, I need 15 more minutes of the kneeding setting. I was trying so hard not to do the motherly shake my head thing. Plus, I was embarrassed as all hell.
Can somebody explain to me why we gots to act out when we go out for no other reason than we can? This girl took a perfectly pleasant Friday ritual–I’m sure for everybody in the spot, and turned it into danger island over a flipping nail flower? (sigh). I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around it. I mean, aside from the fact that she probably thought it was cute. My mom has always alluded to the fact that one never knows what someone else is going through. Mean people are mean for a reason. Unsatisfactory home life? Bad day? Cheating boyfriend? Bad skin?
Sure, all of these things are worthy of acting out about, but what does acting out actually get us? Mostly a bad rap and not really much else. Except, maybe jail time. Plus it makes everybody else uncomfortable. Clinching purses and shit. Who needs that? It annoys me to no end when people forget their home training (if they started out with any) when in public for any reason. It’s all so simple to me. If you don’t like the service, you don’t spend your money there. If you’re an asshole to start, the service is great, you still feel like cutting up, and then you want your money back. Well, we’ve already established that you’re an asshole.
Maybe I should have said something to the girl, as an act of sisterly kindness. It’s now dawning on me as I’m calming down, that maybe nobody told her the way she acted in the salon was not in fact cute, but completely inappropriate. Maybe no one pulled her aside and said: “Hey dumb ass, you know, you catch a lot more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.”
Judging, however, by the way she tripped over her nail visit, I can’t say for sure the beat down would be worth it. I mean, I am on television now and I need my face in one piece more than ever. Oh well, such is life. Another ghetto girl lives on to terrorize somebody else’s perfectly fabulous nail day. Shit.
The moral to this story? Tonight, I actually have one: Please be polite at the nail salon! EVEN if your life sucks. If you can’t keep yourself together, please keep your ghetto ass home!! What?! I said please.
That’s my food for thought. AND yes, thank you for reading this. (See, I said thank you too.) Peace and Continued nail blessings. -e-