My husband subscribes to the 'getting what you pay for' philosophy. I used to wonder sometimes if he was just a sucker for good advertising. However, I must say, he has me sold in the equipment category. The right tools can really make life easier... from home improvement projects to skiing. And I will admit that cutting potatoes has been an absolute joy, ever since I spent my kids' college savings on one Cutco knife. Even though I see the merit of quality products, I am not fully convinced that quality is always tied to cost. And here's but one example of why...
My friends gave me a gift certificate, valued at a whopping $80, for a pedicure at a shi shi spa last May (and yes, how pathetic am I that I didn't use it until last week!). I rarely splurge on girly beauty treatments (since I already own every color of nail polish known to mankind), and when I do, I simply run down to the fast, cheap place around the corner. I was finally convinced it was time to use the certificate, so I carved out a little "me" time and forced myself to go.
I entered the building and immediately felt out of place. I was clearly underdressed in my jeans, which set me on edge. Who on Earth gets dressed up to go to the salon? Next, I was escorted to my "deluxe" pedi-chair. What? No massage buttons? At my regular place, the chairs not only vibrate, they recline! Oh well, I was sure the luxury was yet to come.
I dipped my toes into the foot bath and immediately let out an audible shriek. The water was scalding! The technician apologized and turned on the cold water to adjust the temperature. Within seconds, the water was so tepid, it wasn't even enjoyable. I was bordering on annoyed.
I sat there, bored, because of course there were no trashy magazines to flip through, and grimacing while the lady stabbed at my toes unpleasantly. Next, she filed down my callouses with what felt like steel wool. At that point, I could have cried, but I was just thanking the Lord I wasn't having to spend my own money. I guess I was still mildly curious to see the final result, and hopeful that despite the pain (or perhaps because of it), my feet would exude beauty and softness.
I closed my eyes and tried to think about ice cream until the final piggy was heavily top-coated. I glanced down to see my toes unevenly painted. I quickly looked away. I started to panic because I could feel my disappointment setting in, and since I have whatever the opposite of a poker face is, I knew the lady would be able to figure out I was unhappy. Well, in typical "me" fashion, I felt the need to overcompensate for my disappointment, and maniacally declared my urgent need to buy a bottle of $40 foot cream. What was that about? Had I suddenly lost my mind? I just wanted to be finished... Out the door. Away.
I quickly paid for the stupid foot cream, left way too big of a tip, and headed out the door. In my haste, I tripped on the stoop and smudged not one, but two toes.