Anyone who knows ANYONE that knows me will tell you that I’m not a patient person, and to truly enjoy the spa, you have to be patient and just relax.
That’s just not in my DNA.
BUT – my feet were screaming that they needed some TLC so I finally caved and called the spa.
They had a ‘seat sale’ – last minute appointments that were 20% off – and a pedicure was available the next day at 4:30, so I booked it. Hubby had given me a gift certificate for Christmas this year (in the hopes that I would BECOME a spa girl ~ his pampered princess) so I figured what the hell.
That evening, disaster struck. I decided to help Hubby wash his truck. He had the leaky, crappy pressure washer hooked up in the garage and the puddle of water surrounding it made the floor like an ice rink to my pretty little Croc sandals. In my very best Bambi-on-ice impression, one leg went one way, the other leg the opposite direction and I ended up in some sort of random pretzel form on the garage floor, with my foot tucked up underneath me, and my pride severely injured.
Great. Now the top of my right foot looks like hamburger. Awesome.
And shit – I have a pedicure tomorrow. How good is a paraffin wax treatment going to feel on an open wound? I better cancel.
Sooooo I call the spa the next morning clearly explaining that I’ve hurt myself and that there is an open wound on the top of my foot, so I’m really sorry, but I’ll have to cancel.
Spa Girl: “You know about our cancellation fee right?”
Me: “Ummmm – sorry?”
Spa Girl: “Because you didn’t give us 24 hrs notice, we have to charge you”
Me: “Are you kidding? I just booked the appointment within 24 hours!!! How could I possibly give you notice before that??? AND I’ve got a gaping wound on my foot. I don’t get a pass for that???”
Effing Spa Girl: “Well, I can let it go this time, but if it happens again, I’d definitely have to charge you”
Wow. The generosity is overwhelming.
Anyone who knows me, know that I’d definitely never be going back again…
Except that I have a gift certificate. And I’m cheap.