Questionable Career Choices

Cashing in a rather generous mani/pedi gift certificate, I
recently found myself in THE swankiest nail spa this side of the country. Ceramic
tile floors, huge marble hand-washing sinks, granite workstations with built-in
fans, ornate artwork and framed, gilded mirrors. The drying table was a
beautiful wooden round with multiple UV lights and fans positioned for optimal
hand and toe finishing. Just.Absolutely.Gorgeous. When a customer walked in,
the patriarch would greet them with a “What can we do for ya, dahlin?”

The nice young buck working on my fangers and toesies was a
true enigma, even to my rather seasoned people-watching eye. He seemed early
20s, was kind of sporadically jittery, and would disappear randomly for
five-ish minutes at a time. His phone buzzed constantly, and though he would
ignore the stored contacts, there were lots of numbers not stored to which he
would immediately respond. {Don’t judge…if you were perched directly
above that phone, you might have looked at it, too. And also, why was he even
on his phone when he had a paying customer sitting in front of him? Rude. Only
that’s the thing, he wasn’t rude at all…in fact, quite the opposite.}

Y’all. I was just sitting in this place and trying to
convince my massage chair that I did not, in fact, require the seat massager
(Seriously, what is with that
setting?!), just soaking up the niceness of it all when it suddenly occurred to
me…oh my word, I bet he’s a drug dealer. That’s
it, he’s a drug dealer. He’s going out back to pass out his little druggie
drugs and then coming back in here to trim my cuticles. Does the dad know his
kid is selling drugs? They seem like such a nice family. I bet that’s why there
are little signs everywhere asking patrons to tip in cash…they’re laundering
their drug money through this nail shop! Oh, merciful heavens, the cops are
going to bust this place any minute now. Thank the good Lord these workstations
are granite…I’ll just hide under one of these when the hailstorm of bullets begins.

And that, my friends, is why my little squirrel-chasing
brain cannot be left idle.

By the way, for a drug dealer…he did really nice nail work.