So I'm sitting here at my computer at home on a very rainy Monday. Very rainy. The kind of rain everyone thinks only happens in Washington state. It's supposed to rain all week. Which is cool by me seeing as how California needs water and also that I absolutely love rainy weather.
However, I am sitting at the computer at home. In fact, even if I were at work, I'd still be on the computer, which means that I am not doing nails. And seeing as how I work on Mondays, being on the computer in the middle of the day is not really a good sign.
Nevertheless, here I am, trying to catch up on e-mail and websites and networking forums, and designing some postcards so I can try the direct mail services offered by the aforementioned Vistaprint. And I am texting with clients. K needs to move her appointment, B wants to know if I'll go to her Miche Bag party, and the other B has her schedule for next week and wants to make sure she gets in for both nails and toes on her day off. And in the middle of all these text messages it sort of struck me. In that way that I am occasionally struck by the world I live in today versus the world I grew up in. And the way I'm sure many of us who just realized we will be spending our 40th birthday competing at IBS Las Vegas this year (yes, I am blatantly soliciting free drinks from my peeps!) are occasionally struck.
How strange to be having a conversation with three people at the same time on the phone, all by writing notes to each other like we were in 7th grade science class.
Then, as I sent my "I have this time on Tuesday or this time on Friday" text to K, it dawned on me ... Does she know these are the times that I have available? Or will she think those are the times that I am already booked? Of course, most of my clients are used to talking to me and my method of booking appointments seems to flow fairly smoothly, so I guess I shouldn't fret it too much. And K knew what I was talking about and opted for my latest availability on Friday. I'm very proud of her; her new year’s resolution was to actually see me every two weeks and so far she's managed to make it at least every three — which is a far cry from her usual five to six weeks. How she can wear her nails that long and not need a new set every time I see her, I don’t know.
But every once in a while someone will ask me to clarify whether I have offered an opening or are telling them that those are the times that I'm already taken. So I occasionally wonder how other businesses book appointments. And marvel at our ability to communicate effectively through text messages. Which we seem to do so well and so often I can't help but wonder if every time I see someone on an Internet message board insist that it's difficult to discern tone and inflection in writing if that person isn't looking for an excuse as to why they suck at communicating in writing? Oh! But let's keep the blog to a two-rant-per-post limit, shall we?