1. First things first. I have been frequenting this shop since I was fourteen. I know every employee. The booth they ushered me to was that of a new worker, but hey....I'm not picky. Everyone deserves a chance. While removing my nails for a new full set lil' miss new bitch ripped off my pinkie nail and made me bleed. Yes, bleed! And continued to remove nails as if she didn't see the tiny red droplets on her work station. The hoe didn't even say sorry. So I gave her the death eye. Eventually she got her ass up and ushered me to another technician. She didn't have too many choices. It was either that or......get that ass beat.
2. This big, burly bitch (pictured below) brought in a damn day care with her!! A plethora of loud ass kids that were crying or constantly running their bad asses through the shop or both. That shit got on my LAST damn nerves. If your group of Bebe's kids can't act right in public keep they asses at home. I don't wanna hear that shit. You're bothering my relaxation time. This is why my uterus remains empty. SMH.
3. Then Ms. BBB (Big Burly Bitch) complained about her nail design to EVERY fuckin' technician in the shop!! Including mine. They all circled around Ms. BBB so she could whine and fuckin' moan.... *rolls eyes* Are you serious?? That was fifteen minutes that could have been used finishing mine up *rolls eyes again* It wasn't so much that she was dissatisfied, but she was loud and tactless about it. I mean...DAYUM! Just shut up! The world doesn't have to know that the gold streak on your nail should "go all the way through". smh.
4. After I got a new technician I was asked how long I would like my new full set. In the midst of answering the question Ms. "experienced nail tech" took it upon her fuckin' self to cut a nail before hearing the length. The result??? Nails that were too damn short. Grrrr. Why ask then??? I'm not gonna lie..that kinda made me want to slap her. Yep. Open handed.
5. I ran into an old classmate in the shop. She was dressed in a yellow halter top, black booty shorts, and black gladiator heels. Upon making a few low-key phone calls and texts I found out she's now a stripper/prostitute. Hmm...ok that makes sense. Especially when you pair it with the fuzzy, curly, highlighted synthetic lace front.
Maybe I should find a new location...I mean I don't really have a choice and all with my pending move. But I have a strange feeling that the wonderful people of Chicago will irritate me just as much...if not more. I guess that's what you should expect when you're.....bitter.