I don't believe in "nail emergencies." There's no such thing, and if it really is that bad, then you need a doctor, not a nail tech.
I like that my job comes with a very low responsibility factor — relatively speaking. It's not brain surgery. If I slip and say "oops," it usually means that my client's smile line is more of a smirk on one nail or that the petals of a daisy are longer on one side than the other, not that I have to explain to her family that she will be paralyzed.
If I don't answer my phone on my day off, a client has to go on her date with a broken nail; she doesn’t die because I didn't make it back to the hospital in time do their heart transplant. If I'm out of town, no one jumps off a building — which is not to say that I've never had a client who thought a broken nail was the end of the world.
As much as I love being loved, and as seriously as I take my profession, it also never escapes me that my job isn't all that important in the overall scheme of the universe. I know my clients are loyal to me and depend on me for their nails, but if I should choose to walk away from my job tomorrow, those people will manage somehow. Their lives will go on.
I like knowing that. I sleep better at night knowing that the future of humanity and the fate of the human race does not depend on me. I find it easier to walk tall without all that extra weight on my shoulders.
Sometimes, I really appreciate being just a nail-girl.
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