Fun with Nail Salons

K so I'm not proud of it, and it's no secret that the employees at nail salons make me a little crazy. I dare say I've begun to stereotype a certain race and it's horrible! I know, really really wrong. But they just keep giving me fuel for my fire! Why do I keep going back to them? Excellent question. Because you can't go anywhere else for a mani/pedi/eyebrow wax for under $50. So I'm asking for it, I know. Here's what happened this morning:

I head to "Nail Spa" where there are two employees standing out front chattering away. I glance over at them and they tell me it's not open yet. I tell them it's 10:05 and the sign says they open at 9:30 (in case they weren't aware of their hours). One of the women tells me that her manager is "busy". Uh huh. K then. So I walk next door to "Image Beauty" and ask if they do waxing. What luck! They do waxing so come on back she says. She asks me my name, who does my hair and how many kids I have on the way back to the waxing room. I lay down and she puts a hair netty shower cappy thing on my head. Wee little bit concerned as I've never worn head protection for an eyebrow wax. She chatters on about how she owns 3 other salons and also works as a French/English translator for the embassy. Which is interesting because she's asian and at certain points I'm not entirely sure if she's speaking English or something else. Anyway, so the atypical waxing continues in that fashion. Usually they just slap on wax, slap on the strippy thing, and rip it off. Once on the top and bottom of each eyebrow, and then once in the middle. Done. Theresa (real name Ting Liu Ling) uses about 11 strips and shows me each one after she's done. Getting anxious about how long it's taking, I tell Theresa that it doesn't have to be perfect. She tells me I'm done and thrusts a mirror in my face. I'm perplexed at my reflection because while I felt the waxing happening, I see basically zero difference in stray hairs. I say this to her and she immediately offers to show me her license. I said everything is great and I must have been mistaken and I get ready to leave and she yells at me to lay back down so she can do it again. I protest a little and then give in as her heavy hand pushes down on my shoulder. Back to work she goes with little tugs and plucks. Suddenly she asks me if I smoke. Huh? Maybe I'm dreaming I think to myself. You know those wacky kind of dreams where people's eyes are olives and weird things like that? Did she just ask me if I smoke? So I say, just to be sure, did you just ask me if I smoke? And she says yes, I smell smoke. I said no I don't smoke. She said she smelled something, clearly not believing me.

At least I get a good story out of it.....