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I don’t have very pretty feet.  I know that about myself.  I’m pretty rough on them, too.  I like shoes with high heels and pointy toe boxes.  I like flip-flops. I put moisturizer on my feet at night, slip on some socks and get in the bed, but inevitably, I wake up with one sock on, one sock off and the sockless foot poking out from underneath the comforter (you know that’s how you keep cool at  night, too!).  I work out hard and I’ve gotten blisters, a corn, and the start of a nasty bunion. When I’m swinging kettle bells, I’m barefoot and trying not to drop 16kg of weight on my feet. . .though I wonder if that might straighten out some toes. . . .

Anyway, my feet need TLC from time to time and I am not opposed to having someone else slough off the wear and tear on my tootsies.  I look forward to a pedicure, not only because my toes end up looking way better than when I walked in, but it’s a chance for me to just sit back and do nothing but flip through my Entertainment Weekly and my People magazine.

That was plan for yesterday. Notice, I said “was”.  See, after I worked out, I went right to the nail shop with my mags in my bag, ready to sit back and just veg out.  I selected my color, hopped up in the chair, smiled at the tech and exchanged a few pleasantries.  She bustled about getting her supplies and checking the water.  She left with a quiet, “I’ll be right back,” and so I pulled out my magazine, turned on the massaging chair and started to relax.

In the nail shop, when you walk in, there are at least a dozen stations where the techs are doing nails.  As you head to the back, the room opens into another room whose walls are lined with pedicure chairs. Easily, there are ten chairs on each side.  At any given time, I’d say half of the chairs are full — men and women, young and old.  And all kinds of feet monstrosities like I’ve never seen before!  I mean, my feet are tough, but when the tech breaks out the battery powered sander and props your leg up on her knee for leverage. . .whoa.

But I digress.  The point was, there were a handful of other people getting pedicures, all of whom were bent over magazines while their respective techs buffed and polished their toes.  My tech comes back and decides that whir of the jetted tub and the gentle sshhk, ssshhk, sshhk  of nails being filed needs to be broken with her prattle about the weather, the cooking show on TV that’s making her hungry, whether or not it’s my day off, and so forth.

So, that brings me to why I entitled this post “Manners”.  I mean, I’ve got manners. I write thank you notes. I say “please” and “thank you”.  I put the toilet seat down, you know, all those good things.  I speak when spoken to.  I’m courteous to those who deserve it, especially people in the service industry, like my pedicure pal here.  However, yesterday (actually most days I get a pedicure), I don’t really want to talk to anyone. I just want to sit and be taken care of, chip-chop-chip! The tech, however, was not to be deterred and I was getting exasperated.

Truly, I just wanted to say, “Hey! Chatty Cathy!  Enough with the banter. I’m trying to read for a few minutes. I appreciate you taking my bear claw into your hands and making it pretty again, but really? Can I just get a break?”  But, because I have manners, I didn’t say that. I answered her questions. I even kept the conversation going by asking her how busy it had been that day!  Darn you, Manners!  I should have just popped my ear buds in and closed my eyes.  But, Manners wouldn’t allow it.

In the end, it all worked out; the magazines got read, my feet got all purty, and the tech got a very nice tip.  Afterall, Manners doesn’t like stingy tippers.

What about you? Do you chat up the mani/pedi tech/waxer/spray tanner/masseuse/esthetician?