Captain's Log #15 - Shave?

7/16/17

Once a upon a time I went to the dentist. In the waiting room, full of anxiety, nearly choking on the odor of clove, the high-pitched squeal of a drill in another room and the guaranteed impending pain, both physical and financial, I tried to relax with a sports magazine. It was one of those manly ones full of pictures of men swathed in brightly-colored spandex and sunglasses sweating at cross-county biking, mountain-climbing and such. There were pictures of forests and mountains with lots of blue sky. I turned the page and there was a black & white ad featuring the naked back of a seated young man with dark, tousled hair (Like he’d spent the morning in bed? With whom?) bent over a pair of long, silky, feminine legs. He was applying nail polish to her graceful toes. I just about had a stroke. I leapt out of my chair - strewing the contents of my purse across the floor - gasping in disbelief. “Who’s the target market?!” I croaked to the receptionist. She looked blank. “Is this supposed to appeal to women or men?” And what was it doing in this manly-men’s magazine? Giving them ideas, I hope. I asked if I could take it, she said yes. It was a two-page advertisement for Jim Beam. Two full pages is expensive. It got my attention. I even sent a letter to the company praising them for the design. It had to have been created by a woman. What do men know about nail polish and pedicures?

Getting your nails done might be like going to the barber’s for a professional shave. You walk in, everything is neat and orderly. You’re greeted by the fragrance of the pine-scented soap and invited to sit in a regal chair. The barber turns your collar down, exchanges a few pleasantries then carefully wraps your neck in paper. With a snap of the black styling cape he robes you. The chair tilts back, and with the hot, moist towel like a white turban on your face, you are plunged into dark, tropical, relaxation. Ahhh... The spongy, slippery shaving cream; the razor, wielded in the confident hands of an experienced professional, glides over your face making it baby-skin smooth. The bits of cream are wiped off and “Trim your eyebrows, ears and nose?” It’s a very intimate experience which I’ve never had the pleasure but it sounds like so much fun!

I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I’ve been to a nail salon. I had a pedicure Friday. (Pay someone to cut your toenails? Yep.) It’s not unlike a trip to the barber’s for a shave though I think our shop should play soft Caribbean music and be decorated with tall ferns, the ones with long graceful fronds, and orchids. Our technicians are Vietnamese women, they talk among themselves like birds. What a beautiful sounding language, like water flowing over rocks in a verdant stream. I’m cheap so I usually get the all-one-color on my toes, a peachy-apricot. This time I sprung for the French pedicure. These ladies are artists! Their talent is wasted on nails, they should be making elaborate Cloisonné. Ok, so this "French" style has been around since the 70s, I’m late to the party. (I was doing other things in the 70s.) First she dabs white across the very tips of the nails. Then she goes back with a brush and evens out the lines, then applies what looks like guava juice on the rest of the nail, then layers on a clear coat. The effect is quite… sexy, frankly. Wearing no color or polish is like being stark naked at the beach, all one color can be like wearing a couture gown. French is like wearing a bikini when one was young, slender and tan. Men get pedicures, too, I’ve seen them, though they don’t get polish. These guys attend with their wives and know how to have a good time! Next time I’m springing for the Deluxe. Want to join me?

Had a relatively good week at work. While one can experience a week of Fridays, last week was all Mondays, ugh, though it ended with an alarming positive experience. My immediate supervisor sent me an email (in writing!) commending me for promptly solving a problem. It was a very simple thing and I was flat out of work so I did it promptly. I’m betting her supervisor (my 2^nd level) put her up to it, probably to grow her: this is an example of what a good manager does. I don’t care, I’ll take it. And beyond sending me an email she (they) are entering me in an appreciation drawing. The company has a “Caught you doing something good” recognition event. The stated goal is the employee has to have done something that supports the mission of the organization, which my action does not, but I’m not telling anyone - especially at work. What I did was so puny and insignificant compared to what other people in the department do that there’d be a mutiny and I’d be strung up on the spirit topmast as shark bait, so mum’s the word. An employee’s name is put in a basket for a chance to win a $50 gift card or something. I’m not counting on winning, I am just flabbergasted by the positive direction of my supervisor. She’s the one who’d had a career in prisons, and has the fluffy hair usually tightly bound in braids, she wore it free all this past week; I remarked on it enviously.

Until next time, many blessings,

Karla, k.j. and mom