Today I got my acrylics filled.I'm a creature of habit and go to the same place and usually, the same person does my nails, so I walked in with the expectation that I'd be sitting down in front of David. When it was my turn and a stranger walked up to me, asking "what color?" (I go to a Vietnamese nail salon, so the broken English is no big deal) I was surprised. I had never seen this person before. Usually, the owner and her husband and another lady were all that worked there and here was this new person?
What if she drilled too close to my cuticles and cut me? What if the drill got too hot? Oh my god why does the acrylic look white? My fears were all for naught, as she did a wonderful job and didn't proactively try to shorten my nails (I like them long, not Jersey long, but I have short fingers and David sighs every time I ask him to go longer when he's trimming down a new set). She gave me a shy but grateful "thank you" when I handed her her tip. I think my fears of seeing a new nail tech stem from when I first got acrylic nails (at this very salon) and then needed them filled. I went to a highly-recommended salon just down the road from my house and left really disappointed. So disappointed that I painted over them and waited for them to grow out.
I could have been a snot and requested David to do my nails. But let's use my trip to the nail salon as an allegory about giving people a chance. Yeah. That's my deep thought for the weekend.
I love the clicky sound of my nails on the keyboard. Yay!