Mani/Pedi

Mani/Pedi

By
Leo de Natale

Illustration by Vince Giovannucci

Barbara “Babs” Hayes, a 60-something financial analyst, was fuming as she left the “Happy Endings” nail salon. Like many American women, she had reached her flash point with the hand and feet emporiums that are infamous for their cultural rudeness. As she had done numerous times, she’d arrived for her 11am appointment with her favorite manicurist, “Becky”, an incredibly petite woman who spoke few words.

“Su-Su”, the tattooed salon’s owner imperiously strutted over to Babs and, in broken English, said “Becky late. You sit there” while pointing to an old, well-worn vinyl and aluminum kitchen chair. Su-Su perceived her store as an East Asian fiefdom. She had an electric smile that turned on and off as her mood shifted. Twenty Vietnamese women worked in this chrome and glass gulag. There was quiet chatter, none of it English.

The majority of customers in any nail salon are women. For some, the experience is zen. They sit back, relax and are soothed by the sensual indulgence. It is physical and emotional escapism. For others such as Babs, the mani/pedi experience is a quick fix method of improving one’s appearance, regardless of age. The appeal is looking well groomed, feeling confident and occasionally conjuring childhood memories of “playing dress up” wearing flashy colors. Painted nails were a rite of passage.

One of Babs’ best friends would be lulled by the process and actually fall asleep. Not so for Babs. And many of her friends admitted mani/pedis were a love/hate experience: they were always searching for the ideal salon. Babs had been a Happy Endings customer for more than two years, a comparatively long time. And like so many friends, she had a litany of salon horror stories. For example, she had previously gone to a salon – once -because she observed a bare-footed employee rubbing her fingers between her toes while waiting for the next customer. For Babs, that was a one and done. Ewww, that’s gross she said to herself feeling nauseous . That’s it, I’m outta here! And this incident occurred before Covid 19. Many nail salons tended to be unhygienic – and loud.

Some friends had recommended Happy Endings because of its cleanliness and quiet atmosphere. Owner Su-Su tried to be more sophisticated by pumping classical music through the spa’s sound system. She always wore black clothing and boots. Babs thought Su-Su resembled a goose stepping Nazi Stormtrooper.

Babs grew accustomed to such arrogant behavior. She was there because Becky was an experienced manicurist with incredibly skilled hands. She was also polite and quiet. Babs was always pleased with her nails and left a generous tip in cash. Lately, however, she had noticed a change. Becky had started conversing with her co-worker, Nguyên, who was massaging the gigantic feet of a tall mid-20’s woman. Babs had never seen such gunboats. They were likely a size 11.

Loud chatter started increasing and she immediately thought of the old Seinfeld episode where Elaine discovers the manicurists are discussing her and making snarky comments about clients “chan co’mui hoi” (smelly feet) or “con heo map” (fat pig).

During the past few visits, the conversations were becoming louder. Babs reached a flash point and looked squarely into Becky’s eyes:

“Becky, this chatter between you two is very rude and inappropriate,” she said. “You’re living in America. Start talking in English so people can understand what you’re saying. Tu dien dong nghaia tieng Anh Hoc thanh ngu Tieng Anh!!!” (an unpleasant retort)

In college, Babs had majored in East Asian languages and could  speak passable Mandarin, Thai and Vietnamese.   She chuckled because it helped when friends and family ordered Asian food.

Boss Lady Su-Su was incensed by Babs’ intrusion into this cultural atmosphere, especially after Becky received no tip. Babs rarely behaved that way but the entire experience had pushed her buttons. Sorry, Becky, but this customer had lost her patience.

Like most everything else in the United States,  trying to find a nail salon owned and run by Americans was exceedingly difficult, but not impossible.  It was Diogenes, 2023.  Women regardless of age, were searching for OPI Nirvana.