Picky or Principled?
On very rare occasions, I treat myself to a pedicure. This treat is usually preceded by a checking of the bank account and an analysis of whether or not this purchase will set off a detrimental domino effect of bad purchases leading to impending debt. Usually, though, if I'm feeling especially grubby, the reality of my bank account doesn't seem to matter either way. Sometimes you gotta say screw it in the name of beauty.
Anyway, I tend to treat these visits as very precious events with one rule: they must go perfectly. That means finding the perfect polish color (and not making the grave error of pea green Essie on my toes); making sure I am thoroughly aware of every minute of pampering (which usually amounts to about fifteen); and that I have a pleasant conversation with the nail technician. All of this is usually possible, until they hand me the bill.
Dammit, I say to myself! This was all going so well; I had everything under control, was feeling relaxed and then the bill had to go and sour everything. First, let me back up and say that before I get any type of beauty service in my Brooklyn neighborhood, I coach myself by saying, "Okay, just tip twenty percent and be done with it. No more, no less. That way, you don't have to even think about it, and they will be happy too." But this dialogue with myself doesn't seem to play out the same way in real life. Usually the whole plan gets fudged midway through the pedicure's calf massage. It feels so incredible that my previously agreed upon (with myself) twenty percent tip turns into thirty percent, then forty percent, until I have to reel myself back toward my original plan.
The other reason I coach myself beforehand is because the price always changes, slightly, from what I am quoted upon arrival. It's little things like an extra dollar here and there with no description of what the charge is for. I know this sounds incredibly cheap- I mean, what's an extra dollar, really? And that is probably where I should leave the argument in my head. But on the other hand, there is the principle of knowing how much you will be paying for a service, and trusting that the proprietor will stick to that price. To me, it feels deceitful, and there's nothing like deceit to tarnish a good relaxation session.
Of course, as I melt into the giant massage chair, I can't help but recognize that these people are doing grueling work on my body: cleaning my toes, massaging my legs, and breathing in nail polish fumes all day long- why shouldn't they be allowed to deceive me a little? What's the ultimate loss here? Are my principles being challenged to the point that my livelihood is in danger? Is one or two or three unforeseen extra dollars going to put me over the financial edge, or even change the fact that these ladies are stuck crouched over on a small stool tending to people's corns all day? No. But I still can't shake the discomfort of knowing that, business-wise, my nail technician might not be totally up-front.
I guess this is the conundrum I will have to live with because no matter how much I like getting my toes beautified, I will always feel slightly wrong about the whole process, and wrong about the fact that these ladies may have to scam for extra tips because their wages aren't that great. Because the fact is that no matter how concerned I am with my own money, I am lucky enough to be choosing to go to a spa on a Saturday afternoon. And if I have to do a little mental gymnastics to justify the experience, then so be it. At least I am fully aware of the dynamics that are playing out, and maybe that awareness will make me into a better tipper so that I can finally just relax and enjoy what I'm paying for.
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