Auf Wiedersehen, Good night, Peace Out!
Sadly, Maggie’s need for balance in her life means saying goodbye to her Maggie Rants blog.
I really appreciate it when clients arrive early. It gives them time to put their purses down, put on their sweaters (I keep my AC set to "snow"), check their e-mail/voicemail/text messages or whatever it is

I really appreciate it when clients arrive early. It gives them time to put their purses down, put on their sweaters (I keep my AC set to "snow"), check their e-mail/voicemail/text messages or whatever it is they do on their phones that they can't live without looking at for more than five minutes, and stand in front of the polish and glitter racks drooling for a moment while they try to decide what they want on their nails.
What I appreciate less is when people show up an hour early. Ten or even 15 minutes early gives them a chance to do all those things I just said, and is perfectly reasonable to give me a chance to get an early start if I'm ready while not making me feel like I'm being rushed if I'm still finishing up the client before. But an hour? or even more?
I have a small, intimate studio salon. If I were in a large salon with a separate waiting area where people could just kick back and read magazines until the receptionist told them I was ready for them, then I can see people hanging out just because they had nothing better to do. But showing up an hour early in my current set up sort of wigs me out.
First, I feel like I'm running late. I know I'm not. They know I'm not. But the client I'm currently with doesn't always realize that I'm not running late. Then my current client feels uncomfortable, there's a sense of intrusion and conversation gets kinda awkward.
I have no idea why people want to show up an hour early and sit around waiting on me. But sometimes they do, and I wish I could explain that being too early is almost as annoying as being too late.
Sadly, Maggie’s need for balance in her life means saying goodbye to her Maggie Rants blog.
Maggie recalls the time she tried to figure out how to dispose of her salon chemicals.
With a vacation approaching, Maggie can’t wait to put some distance between herself and the drama of the salon.
Maggie doesn’t hesitate to confront clients about past sins.
How sick is too sick for a nail appointment?
Maggie is fed up with clients who won’t get off the phone.
Maggie needs to remind herself that she has options.
Maggie is trading in one writing genre for another.
Maggie knows too much about sanitation to get excited about a strange Jacuzzi tub.
Maggie is no longer certain nails are in her long-term future.
Maggie is learning about the downside of success — scheduling is a nightmare.
Maggie contemplates the limits of her charitable impulses.
Maggie is not too keen on clients bringing in their own nail supplies.
Just because Maggie isn’t with a client doesn’t mean she’s not working.
Twenty-two years of doing nails takes a toll on the hands.
Maggie doesn’t want her product reps dropping by.
Maggie enjoys other people’s drama — up to a point.