So, I am sitting in the doctor’s office waiting to have the doctor tell me why I have suddenly developed these cyst-like bumps on the back of my skull/neck when an older gentleman (maybe mid-80’s??) sits down next to me. He smiles at me over my Better Homes and Gardens. I smile back and return to reading about how some color-ologists somewhere have determined that blue is the new “in” color for summer. (Who are these color-ologists? For that matter, WHAT is a color-ologist? The journalist in me wants source information. I mean, I’m not redecorating on the whim of some never-been. For all I know, I may be a color-ologist, and I’m sort of into green at the moment. I need DATA and HARD FACTS, Better Homes and Gardens!)
I progress to reading about how leeks are a fantastic addition to the common mashed potato when the older gentleman does a throat clearing. You know, one of those “I’m trying to get your attention in a polite way/sorry to bother you, but this is important/your zipper is down and your Jockey for Her’s are giving me the wink” sort of throat clearing. I look up. He leans forward and very sweetly says:
“Honey, you really need a pedicure.” Then, he proceeds to give me the number of a nail salon nearby!
WHO DOES THIS??? Okay, sure, my Sicilian GRANDMOTHER might do this; she completely gave up all vestiges of polite society in her late 70's. But a MAN in his mid-80’s? I know what you are thinking. Gay. Flaming. But I didn’t get that vibe. My brain quickly ran through all of the possibilities for this strange encounter and the only possible answer was…
…I really DID need a pedicure.
Luckily, I was on my way to ASHA, my new favorite salon and spa, for a massage. (Thank you, Cheryl, for the suggestion!) I rush into the lobby and confront the receptionist/reservationist.
Me: Hi. I’m here for a massage, but I need a pedicure, too. Please tell me you have an opening.
Receptionist: Mmm-mmm. Sorry. We’re full.
Me: You don’t understand. I NEED a pedicure.
Receptionist: Sorry. Can’t help you. Would you like an appointment for Monday?
Me: No. I need the appointment now. It’s imperative that I see a nail technician. Worlds are hanging in the balance here. You don’t know how important this is.
Receptionist: Again, I’m sorry, but we cannot accommodate you. I have a spot open Monday mid-afternoon…
Me: Okay, what is your name?
Receptionist: Chloe.
Me: Okay, Chloe, I have to level with you. I was just sitting in the waiting room of my doctor’s office and an 85 year old man—an 85 year old MAN, Chloe—told me I needed a pedicure.
Chloe: Was he gay?
Me: I thought of that, too, but I didn’t get the vibe. He didn’t suggest a color. He would’ve suggested a color if he were gay, right?
Chloe: One would think so.
Me: You see my dilemma?
Chloe: (slowly nodding) Mmmm-hmmm…. A man?
Me: An EIGHTY-FIVE YEAR OLD man! This is an emergency.
Chloe: (pause) Well, I’d have to pull Vilma off the floor. She’s the best….
Me: Thank you, Chloe! Thank you!
And this? Is why my heels feel like BUTTER!
Asha Salon and Spa. Schaumburg, Illinois. Vilma. I heart you all….
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5 comments:
huh huh...awesome.
Get OUT!
Maybe, he was formerly married to what's her name with - Imelda! Maybe it was someone who is married to someone with even more shoes than Imelda Marcos (sp. here? Don't slay me if I'm wrong, folks. I don't like shoes as much as Trish =)) and he immediately recognized your superior taste in footware, and pegged you as someone who must obviously appreciate routine pedicare (look, I made up the word.)
No? You're right - thanks Chloe for going the distance to rid doctor's offices of crusty, heel-peeling feet that even 85 year old heterosexual men are apparently tired of looking at.
(You made it all up, didn't you? Some people will say anything to get their feet pampered. Then again, I think you've earned it.)
...do you think the guy was a plant from the foot salon??
St. K,
Sadly, all true. In fact, my aunt works at the doctor's office, and she witnessed the whole thing. She quickly ushered the gentleman into an exam room because she saw how stunned I was. My aunt's theory is that he has a relative who owns a nail salon, and he is paid for drumming up business.
Actually, if he DOES have a relative in the business, then that is a FABULOUS small business marketing plan!
H-I-L-A-R-I-O-U-S! And, I love him. Was he a cute, old man? In a puppy dog and kitten sort of way- I just love old people. The way they throw all social etiquette out the door and say whatever they want because face it, social etiquette has changed drastically since they were young. This is one of the things I look forward to when I get old.
What does "pull her off the floor" mean? Why was she stuck to the floor? What was she doing on the floor? I seriously don't get it.
Okay- so your heels are like butter. Did you give up the massage for this pedicure?
And, you're welcome for the massage suggestion. I'm spending my massage money on home repairs so no more being naked under stranger hands for a while. :(
Cheryl,
The "older gentleman" was cute. He had ear, though. Profusely. However, I will probably have ear hair when I am in my mid-80's, so I refuse to mock those of the egregious ear hair.
"Pull off the floor" probably means to get her off of whatever she was working on (stocking supplies? assisting a coworker in the filing down of a customer's particularly stubborn bunion?0 and ask her to work on my tecchy tootsies.
Massage vs. pedicure: I had both. Before you balk at the indulgence of it all, let me explain that I get massages regularly. (By "regularly," I mean that I am a regular bi-decade massage getter. Also, the massage was my Mother's Day gift, so the only real extra expense was the pedicure, and...well...it was an EMERGENCY. I had to get it.
No more massages for you? I only GOT this massage because of your suggestion! I was hoping you'd convince me to get massages more often than every five years because I really liked this one!
What kind of home repairs are you suffering through?
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