You Can Pick Up Your Nails Friday Before 5:00

I spend so much time bragging about how much I love my job, I feel kinda guilty on these days when I don't particularly want to be here.

It's not that I'm not loving my job at the moment, it's just that I wish the nails weren't attached to the people. That I could come and go at my leisure, work at my own pace, and concentrate on nails, not on the clients.

Not that I'm even in a particularly sour place with my clients. For the moment I don't even have those two bad apples — everyone is great and pleasant company. But I wish I could separate visiting with the people from doing the nails.

In a perfect world, hands would be detachable. People would bring in their hands on say, Monday. I'd spend a minute consulting with them over what they'd like done, then I'd write up a work order, give them a set of loaner hands, and have them come back at the end of the week to pick up their own hands — nails done to order.

Wouldn't that be swell?

But since that isn't the case, I have to suck it up and remember to nod and smile and be sympathetic to all the stories, and try to remember which story goes with which person. That gets to be quite challenging. Especially when I'm feeling distracted myself.