Wednesday, June 28, 2006

be careful what you speak

Being a manicurist for the last 10 years, I hate it when I see that someone did not take care of his/her nails and toenails. It's my pet peeve, I guess, to see ragged nails with cuticles splitting and nails bitten down to the nubs. And for the ladies, it's just wrong to wear open toe sandels and have your feet look like a wreck. Wrong, I tell you! Wrong!

Okay, and now to the point of the story. Ever since I moved to San Francisco, I started going to the nail salons and pay for a pedicure because my mother is 3,000 miles away and I can't just stop into her salon and say "Mommy, I want a pedicure and I'll give you one in return." And I just hate bending over for an hour trying to put red nail polish on my toenails. Recently, I got the Boy to get a pedicure with me because I'll nag him until kingdom come if he doesn't trim his toe nails. So here's the scene, we're both in a nail salon, owned and employed by Vietnamese people (surprise!) and I asked, in English, if they had time to do two pedicures. They were able to seat us right away, and side by side we sat. The woman working on the Boy is Nail Lady #1 and the woman working on me if Nail Lady #2.

Nail Lady #1 first sat down in front of me, but took one look at me and decided to work on the Boy instead. Not thinking anything of it, I continue reading People magazine. The Boy is reading some magazine about import cars. As soon as Nail Lady #2 starts taking off the polish on my toenails, Nail Lady #1 starts talking to her in Vietnamese.

NL#1: [in Vietnamese] This guy has really nice feet. It's clean and not dirty like that other guy I did yesterday.

NL#2: [in Vietnamese] I know, some people have such disgusting feet, you have to clean your own hands in alcohol afterwards.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting in my chair, laughing behind a magazine because they just commented about the Boy's feet. The Boy is looking at me asking me what they just said because he thinks they're talking about him. I quietly translate the conversation to him without giving away the fact that I can understand every single Vietnamese conversation in the entire salon.

NL#1: [in Vietnamese] His feet is so soft too. But he's got really hairy legs though.

NL#2: [in Vietnamese] He's white, what did you expect? White people are hairy.

About twenty minutes into the pedicure...

NL#1: [in Vietnamese] You know, I keep smiling at the lady you're working on and she doesn't smile back.

NL#2: [in Vietnamese] Maybe she's having a bad day.

NL#1: [in Vietnamese] Maybe she's just a bitch and is being really pissy. Who doesn't smile when someone else smiles back? That's just rude.

--okay, I understood what she was saying. I was trying really hard not to laugh but at the same time I thought to myself, "Did she just call me a bitch for not smiling?" I kept a straight face and kept looking at Nail Lady #2 to make sure she didn't bleed me with the cuticle clippers.

NL#2: [in Vietnamese] You know somethings is weird here...

Nail Lady #2 then looks at me and asks in English: Are you Chinese?

Me: [in Vietnamese] Um, no, I'm Vietnamese.

--at this moment, Nail Lady #1 is completely shocked to hear fluent Vietnamese coming out of my mouth, and she realizes that I understood everything she just said, so she starts hiding her face behind her arms. Nail Lady #2 is telling Nail Lady #1 that she should have watched her mouth and now she's being embarassed by it and she's surprised that she couldn't tell I was Vietnamese in the first place.

The Boy interjects when he realizes what just happened, and he tells Nail Lady #1: [in English] You should watch what you say because you never know who's listening.

We all had a good laugh and I carried on a conversation with the two nail ladies as they were finishing up our pedicure. I kept reassuring Nail Lady #1 that there were no hard feelings and people say that about me all the time (that I look like a total bitch when I'm not smiling) so she shouldn't be embarassed about it.

And after our pedicures were finished, we left the salon and the Boy said to me: You're sick. You enjoy torturing those people and that's why you never announce that you're Vietnamese whenever we go to a nail salon.

Me: Heh, it's funny. Gives something to blog about.

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