I’ve given up on considering getting my nails done a relaxing experience. There are too many heathen things going on for me to possibly enjoy it.
1. The woman next to you spilling her deepest and darkest secrets to her involuntarily captive audience of a tiny Asian nail lady.
Have you really exhausted all other sources of people to complain to about your marriage that you’re now turning to a Vietnamese nail salon worker? It’s insulting enough for her to have to do your nails; don’t insult her more by assuming that she would be interested in what you’re saying. And apart from her, why am I being subjected to this conversation? I’d much rather focus on the conversation my nail tech is forcing on me. To answer your question, Lee, no, I don’t have a boyfriend. Thanks for driving that point home for the millionth time.
2. The nail lady massaging your hands and staring at you as she does it.
Now that’s relaxing.
3. The sales pitch. Motto: “no” might mean “yes” eventually
For the last time, I don’t want to pay extra for whatever service it is that you’re mumbling under your breath. “Exfoliating scrub?” No, thank you. “Pritty flowa?” That’s alright, thanks. “Napalm?” No, that’s ok—wait, what? Please, no! I’ll tip better next time, I promise!