It’s a Small World After All.

You’d think that in a city as big as Chicago, this sort of thing couldn’t happen….but it did. Back in the 80’s I worked in a small nail salon with the 2 owners, Ramone & Vivienne, who proclaimed to be brother & sister (they really weren’t, but that’s another story). Our nail tables were all positioned next to each other in one fairly small area so that we all worked side by side.

Everyone heard everyone else’s conversations & many times all of our clients were conversing with each other, as we 3 techs joined in on the hot topics, too. One day Vivienne had a new client, a female cop (out of uniform) in her chair & as they were chit-chatting the woman started pouring out her guts to Vivienne about the sexual harassment she’d been enduring on the force.

According to her she’d been pursued by a married fellow police officer & had shunned his advances, but was now being bothered by him & his buddies on the force. I didn’t hear all of the story, as my table was furthest from Viviennes, but I heard most of it & most likely so did the client in my chair, plus also the client Ramone was working on, too.

Perhaps a week or more had passed when all of a sudden the female cop barreled in the
salon door in full police uniform. She presented a very intimidating image with her gun in her side holster as she began loudly yelling at Vivienne. All work came to an abrupt halt as everyone in the room gaped in shock at her red, angry face. She accused Vivienne of disclosing their conversation to someone in her department regarding the sexual harassment she had divulged on her last visit & she was now in trouble with her superiors.

The police woman was mortified that her coworkers knew her personal business & her work life was now unbearable. She let Vivienne know in no uncertain terms that she would never be back & upon having her say, she turned, storming out the door as it slammed behind her. We never saw her again.

Poor Vivienne was so stunned & shaken by the encounter, plus all of us were beyond embarrassed for her. She swore on all that was holy she had never told a soul about their conversation & couldn’t understand how such a thing could have happened. We all truly felt bad about it, but what could we do now? The damage was already done.

I cannot recall how we figured it out, but evidently the client Ramone had been working on that day when the female cop was initially telling Vivienne about the harassment actually knew the man in question (the alleged harasser).  She must’ve told someone else what she had heard that day in the nail salon & it gotten back to him or possibly she told him herself.

Now if this could happen in a large city the size of Chicago, imagine what gossiping could do in a small town?

The moral of the story for clients (& salon staff, too): don’t talk about anything you wouldn’t want out in the open because you never know who else is listening. Take it to your grave or to your priest for confessions.

we're networking




Chlorox was her name.

Several years ago a client told me about one of her new co-workers at the factory. Apparently this pretty young blonde chick was temping there & in the lunch room, in front of God & everyone (that’s Southern for a lot of people, both men & women) she’d talk about very inappropriate things…..such as her breast implants & her anal bleaching.

SCREEEEEEECH! Back up. What. The. Frick?

I’d never heard of “anal bleaching” before then! Thoughts raced thru my mind…..firstly, WHY? Secondly, HOW? Thirdly, EEW!

I’m not sure what was said next because I think my mind couldn’t process how anyone other than a porn star would want to do or have need for such a thing (let alone pay money for it), but I do remember that after that incident this chick’s nickname at the factory (but not to her face) became “Chlorox”.

On subsequent visits & thru further conversations with my client, over the years I accidentally discovered who ‘Chlorox’ was! Without naming names (for legal purposes), I can only say that she used to be a nail tech before she got a divorce & gave nails up in pursuit of other things.

Word get out in a small town, so I’d heard about it thru the beauty grapevine.  A few years ago this tech had left town without giving notice to the salon owner nor any of her clients that were on her appointment book. She’d left all her supplies there as if she were returning to work & simply moved out of state.

It was so bizarre! The poor salon owner who she booth rented from was left fielding angry complaints from people who wanted to redeem gift certificates (the tech sold the GC’s & pocketed the money) & from clients who showed up for their appointments only to discover their tech had vanished.

Evidently she’d moved back at some point & it was always presumed that ‘Chlorox’ was fishing for a new husband at the factory…….one who was much older, near retirement & who’d have a good pension (if you get my drift).


anal bleaching- assholes lighten up



The bailout.

I once had a client (age 60+ & still working at a job) who withdrew from her retirement fund to pay off her 30+ yr old son’s debts just to keep him from filing bankruptcy. Silently I thought she’d lost her freaking mind & almost bit my tongue off not to say it. How could she & her husband think this was a good idea?

Being so close to retirement & not having the many years ahead of her that her son did to recoup her investments was mind-boggling. I briefly envisioned my parents/myself in that scenario…. as they gazed upon me with disappointment they’d have said “you made your bed & now you have to lay in it” (meaning “bail your own dumb ass out!”). But then again as a 30+ yr old adult, I’d never have asked nor expected my parents to financially rescue me from the results of my own bad decisions.

Anyway, it staved off the inevitable….for a few years. He went deeply into debt again living his lavish lifestyle & when the market turned in 2008 he lost his job, his house was foreclosed on, but he wouldn’t sell his about to be repo’d _______ (insert brand of extremely expensive car) because he “needed to look good for his next job in sales”. On top of that he/his fiancé were planning a wedding, preceding the unexpected baby that would be arriving soon after that. 

When he came around again with his hand out, looking for another bailout, this time his parents were financially tapped out. They refused to drain the last of their retirement savings for him, his car or his wedding. So he planned the blessed event to occur in his parents home (lol) & invited all of his & his fiancé’s friends.

It was winter. And their house was small. Sound pleasant? Nope. Do you think he first asked permission from his folks (the actual homeowners)? Nope. You think he paid for any of the food or alcohol? Nope.

So the day finally came for the wedding & I did her nails the day before. When she returned a month later I asked how everything went. What she told me just broke my heart. If I was his mother I’d have taken that to the grave before telling a sole, after I was finished crying my eyes out.

He wanted his mom, his sister & his fiancé to look fantastic for the wedding, so he made appointments for them at one of our local day spas. When they were finished getting pampered & were about to leave, THAT’S when they were presented with the bill (several hundred dollars)!

They all had just assumed he’d already paid for everything, since it was HIS idea & HE was the one who made the appointments for them. His mom barely had enough money to pay for 2 people, so his sister had to pay for her own services. Thoughtless of him? Yes.

But fairly predictable based on his past behavior, wouldn’t you say?
What are the chances that this son will either want to OR be financially able to take care of his parents in their twilight years?

So remember parents….when you raise your children to be prince & princesses, you may think it’s oh-so cute at the time, but eventually you wind up with selfish a**holes as adults & you only have yourself to thank for it.

Oh, one more thing that’s MOST important……buy good long-term care insurance now while you’re still financially able & before your first heart attack, stroke or diabetes diagnosis precludes you. It’ll be cheaper & better for you in the long run when weighed against the odds of your offspring actually caring for you.


Time out? no, its a spanking

Lesson #1: Why Not to Drink at Trade Shows (if you care about your career).

Happy 2017! With show season starting soon, this particular story came to mind.

My first (& last) foray into working for a corporation was back in the 90’s when I was hired by a major East Coast beauty supply distributor to work in their showroom. Each year they held a small trade show about an hour from corporate headquarters. Since I was low man on the totem pole that year, I had to stay behind to work the store over that weekend.

When the rest of my coworkers returned, they had all kinds of good stories to tell me, but 1 in particular stuck with me. I’m happy to say that I’m the type of person who learns from other peoples mistakes. Maybe by telling this story it will help some of you learn, too.

For those who aren’t in the beauty business, it’s customary for every show to hold a big party the night before the show floor opens for business. At this particular party one of the women who worked in the corporate office (can’t recall which division) had too much to drink. She began hanging all over 1 of the distributorships owners & was telling him how hot he was (very untrue) & how she wanted him (I’m sure she did at the time). to make matters even worse, the man’s wife (who also worked at the corporation) was present at this party, too.

It was evident that she was 3 sheets to the wind, so they called security to come escort (basically carry) the woman back to her hotel room. The hotel was connected to the ballroom where the party & the show were being held. The guards dumped her into her room & left her there, but later they found her crawling down the hallway trying to find her way back to the party!

All I can say is that it was a damn good thing for her that cell phones & social media hadn’t been invented yet. Nowadays, several people would’ve snapped a photo of her drunkenly crawling down the hallway, then hash tagged it “#hotdrunkenmess” & people across the world would’ve known about it before the party even ended. It probably would’ve been made into a scandalous meme & gone viral, too.

Believe me, it was THE talk of the whole corporation because you know how word spreads when people make fools of themselves in public. A few weeks later we heard that woman’s name being called over the loudspeaker to report to the owner’s office. All of us in the showroom looked at each other & went “Uh-oh”! She was only with the company a few more weeks after that. We figured that she was told to find a new job & they graciously allowed her to leave quietly with whatever dignity she still had intact. We never heard or saw her again.

Since then I’ve been to several show parties & have only encountered 1 educator that was way too tipsy. When you’re slurring your words, you are WAY too tipsy. I made a mental note to avoid this man in the future because he obviously does not use good judgement.

The moral of the story: never drink alcohol at a business function, even if it’s free. The price of your reputation being ruined is just way too high.



“The Egg Rolls”

     Judy was a client of mine who as best I can describe was a stocky, weathered, no-nonsense country grandma. She was as nice as can be, but unless she was smiling she always seemed to have a perpetual “I’ll beat you down if you look at me sideways” scowl on her face. Plus she had gotten to that age when some women just don’t give a flip anymore. They’ve put up with enough B.S. over the years & they just say whatever is on their minds (regardless of the Southern manners their Momma’s taught them), if you know what I mean?

     As I was doing her nails one day, she recounted this story to me about how she loved this certain brand of egg rolls, but her local grocery store had stopped carrying them. She hunted around town until she found another store that carried them & as luck would have it, she also found some coupons for the egg rolls in the local paper, too.

     So one day on her lunch break she drove over to the poorer section of town where this other store was located, just to get her favorite egg rolls. As she’s standing in this very long line, she notices that there’s only 1 register open. As the line slowly moves along, she can hear the young clerk apologizing to the customers while ringing up their products. Apparently the other employees were all on their lunch breaks, leaving her as the sole line open.

     Judy said that the line grew even longer behind her & she could hear people sighing with frustration. One white dude was talking on his cell phone, a Mexican man was just standing in line looking around, some other random white woman was behind the Mexican man, while 2 black girls at the back of the line were talking loudly about how this was bullshit, why was this taking so long & how the store needed to open up another register, etc. etc.

    Finally it was Judy’s turn & the young clerk apologized for the delay as she hurriedly rang up all of Judy’s many egg roll boxes. The poor girl was sweating & moving as fast as she could because she knew the people in line were getting annoyed. When Judy was told her final grocery bill, that’s when she realized she had forgotten to give her the coupons!

     So Judy apologized & quickly was digging the coupons out of her purse as the clerk was probing buttons on the register to re-ring her order, when one of the black chicks from the back of the line said VERY loudly “Oh, sure…. NOW miss WHITE ass is using COUPONS”!

    Judy looked up at the clerk & said “No she just did not just say that, did she?” & the clerk darted her eyes away as she rang up the coupons. Everybody in line got quiet, as if all the air was sucked out of the room. Judy turned around to face the people in line, looked straight at the 2 girls at the back of the line & said equally loudly “Oh sure….and MISS black ass is probably using FOOD STAMPS!”

     Someone let out a gasp & the one black girl turned to her friend & busted out laughing saying “Giiirrrllll…YOU got TOLD!” And with that nobody said another word as Judy paid for her egg rolls & left the store.

get over it

“To feed or not to feed?”

My client Melanie had been with me for about 2 years & had recently given birth to her 2nd baby. Melanie was fanatical about keeping her nail appointments & would bring her newborn with her, which then always made me run late because inevitably the baby would need tending to.

On this particular day while I was doing her manicure, the baby started to get fussy & needed to be fed. I was still trying to build my clientele & needed every warm body in my chair, therefore I tried to accommodate her when she wanted to breast feed the baby in the middle of her nail service. Yes, you read it right…IN THE MIDDLE OF HER MANICURE!

We draped the lightweight baby’s blanket over the head of the feeding baby & positioned it over Melanie’s shoulder so that nothing improper was showing. She cradled the baby with one hand while I tried to work one her other hand. Can you imagine how difficult it was to keep her from smearing her wet nail polish as she balanced the baby that was attached to her boob AND tried to keep the blanket in place? This was the first, last & only time we ever attempted this.

It was at that precise moment the UPS man came to deliver a package & at the same time another employee must’ve had the back door open to take out the trash. As the UPS man pulled open the salon’s front door, it created a vacuum suction effect, which caused interior doors to suddenly slam shut. At the same time a huge gust of wind blew forth from the open front door, snatching the baby blanket completely off Melanie & blowing it up into the air!

The blanket landed about 3 feet across the room, leaving Melanie’s naked breast fully exposed, complete with the attached baby who proceeded to happily keep on feeding. The UPS man was MOR-TI-FIED, along with the receptionist, me & Melanie herself!

I jumped up from the nail table, grabbed the blanket from off the floor & positioned it to cover the baby’s head/Melanie’s boob again. She took this opportunity to stop feeding & got herself together so that I could finish the manicure. The UPS man left the package with the receptionist & promptly fled the building. Melanie couldn’t leave fast enough either.

After they’d all cleared out, the receptionist & I tried so hard not to crack up, but after closing time we laughed hysterically. For about a week, every time we made eye contact we’d bust out laughing!

The moral of the story: I support your right to breast feed in public as long as it’s not done at my nail table!


“The Acrylic Nail Biter”

Daria was a good client of mine when I lived in Chicago & for years I’d see her weekly for her acrylic nails. For those of you who aren’t aware, typically you only see the client once every 2-3 weeks when they have acrylic nails. Somehow Daria would manage to bite off the top layer of acrylic, but her own nails underneath were still in great shape. They were long & strong, but she still insisted that I coat them with acrylic, which meant I’d see her for an hour appointment each week.

Secretly I was frustrated with her! She was a thirty-something year old, beautiful, professional woman of Greek heritage. Both of her parents came over from Greece & they wanted her to date only Greek men. This was long before the movie “My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding” ever was conceived. I kept thinking to myself “how could she ruin all my fabulous work by biting off her acrylic”? Yet each week I kept those thoughts to myself, thankfully never showing her how frustrated I was.


One night we were the last two people in the nail salon & as I was working on her nails, she slowly revealed to me the reason why she was such a nervous wreck that she continued to bite off her acrylic nails. A few years back she’d gone out dancing with some girlfriends when she became overheated. Needing fresh air, she went outside the club & suddenly she was grabbed by a man who pulled her into an alley. He made her take off her boots & jeans, then he raped her up against the brick wall.

Afterwards when she called the police, the officer questioned her as to why she was wearing her pants inside out. Talk about needing sensitivity training. She was in shock, horrified by what she’d just experienced & then he asked her something so stupid. Duh, the alley was dark when she threw on her jeans as she quickly tried to get away! She suffered all kinds of humiliating questions from the detectives over the course of the investigation, not to mention having to submit to the invasive exam to gather evidence of the rape.

She’d lived with this experience for years, only telling her parents that she’d been mugged. In their traditional Greek culture, the women are expected to marry as virgins (at least all the elderly Greeks believe in that). She didn’t ever want her parents to know what had really happened to her that night. The police caught her attacker, who happened to be black, which explained her extreme dislike for black people. Who knows, I might’ve felt the same way if that had happened to me, so I tried not to judge her racism.

Anyway, the case was going to trial soon & she’d have to take the stand in front of a room full of people, describing in great detail what her rapist had done to her. Her parents, still thinking that she’d been mugged, wanted to be in court to support her. She was franticly trying to figure out how to NOT let that happen. What do you say when someone tells you something like that? Words just aren’t enough.


Unfortunately, I moved away & I never found out how her story ended. That experience taught me a valuable lesson…… don’t assume you know what motivates clients to bite their nails. Your perception of reality is only based on the information your clients willingly give to you, so you may never know the real reason on why they do the things they do. I really liked Daria & wonder from time to time how things turned out. I hope she’s had a better, happier life since then because she deserved it, but more importantly, I hope she’s found peace.

when you can't forgive someone

“The Trail of Bread Crumbs”

One night I was pedicuring a client when it came time to put her flip flops on. She apologized for using old flip flops that she’d dug out of the depths of her closet & said I should please excuse their look. No problem. I’d seen worse. We finished up, removed the toe separators & I was preparing to walk her out to her car since it was after dark.

As she started walking across the tile salon floor, there came a squeaky sort of noise that continued with each step. It sounded like she was sticking to the floor or something & we both commented that the floor must’ve just been waxed. I was walking ahead of her to unlock the front door & as I held the door open for her to pass by, I noticed some bread crumbs on the floor behind her.

Nothing too out of the ordinary for the reception area, since clients were always snacking on something while waiting for their appointments. Then I noticed that my client was having difficulty walking across the parking lot. It looked as though her flip flops were sticking to the sidewalk & she was struggling to lift each leg up, as if her legs were too heavy. It sort of looked like she was walking on the moon in slow motion & I thought “WTH?”!

I noticed with each step, the trail of bread crumbs behind her got longer & pieces were appearing everywhere around her! As she got next to her vehicle, she leaned onto it for support. It was dark outside, so all I could really see was her standing in a large mess of white bread crumbs. Crumbs were scattered all over the ground. Big pieces, little pieces……it was a huge mess! I noticed the heel (the crusty end piece) of the bread was lying next to her foot & my 1st thought was “What the heck was someone doing with a loaf of bread in the parking lot?”

Then I heard my client ask for help! I came over to where she was leaning against the vehicle & that’s when it became evident that these were not bread crumbs. These white crumbly things were the remnants of her old flip flops! With every step she took they disintegrated further into pieces!

By now all that pretty much remained of the flip flops was the rubber strap part that went across her foot & between the toes, plus a very thin layer of sole. What I thought was the heel of a loaf of bread was actually the instep to one of the flip flops! We were both shocked & amazed, to say the least. My client opened her car door & sat on the seat with her legs hanging out of the car so that I could gently slip the remains of her flip flops off her feet without messing up her freshly polished toes. It was crazy!

Needless to say, she had to drive home barefoot (so much for keeping her feet soft & smooth). We both had such a big laugh over it tho! After several days of contemplating, I finally figured out what had happened. The flip flops were old & dry rotted. When she placed her foot onto my knee so that I could polish her toes, the sole of the flip flop bent backwards & that just did them in. It would be kind of like bending the binding of a book backwards (say that 5 times fast), so the hard, old foam/rubber just broke apart.

She actually made it home without messing up her polish, which was another amazing thing unto itself. She was a good sport & we joked for months about her “Heels of Time”!  So far this was the ONLY instance when a clients foot wear disintegrated before my very eyes!

Heels of Time photo copy

An Apple a Day Does Not Keep the Doctor Away!

While I was working on my nurse anesthetist client’s nails one day, I happened to ask her if she’d had any unusual cases lately. She replied “Well, there was one”. Then she told me about the time a prominant business man in our community (she did NOT name names & I didn’t ask, but I’d have LOVED to known who he was) came into the hospital with an apple up his butt!

Of course, at this point I am cracking up & asking all kinds of questions, like “What kind of apple was it?”, “How big of an apple was it?” & the #1 question everyone reading this is asking themselves………..”How on earth did it get up there?”. I can’t recall if it was a Red Delicious apple or what, but I do remember that she said he gave no excuse as to how it got in there, but it was your average sized apple. She said most people make up some kind of lame excuse to explain away the fact that this is bizarre behavior, but this particular man offered up no explanation.

They immediately had to do a procedure called an “extraction”, which probably is as unpleasant as it sounds. The man was given some sort of anesthesia or sedative & then just like a woman having a gynecology exam, his feet were placed in stirrups as he laid flat on his back on the O.R. table. The doctor then used various tools to widen the anus & removed the apple.

As I’ve learned from my client, this is not a totally uncommon occurrence. Evidently there’s a segment of the population that enjoys putting foreign objects into their rectums. Personally, I cannot imagine why. But that episode of “Jackass the Movie” comes to mind…….the one where Ryan Dunn puts a Hot Wheels car in a condom & inserts it into his own butt, then films the reaction of the clinic staff when the toy car shows up on his x-rays!

Anyway, after the procedure was finished the man left the hospital (without the apple, I believe). She said for days after that  incident, some of the hospital professionals with wry senses of humor began leaving apples on coworkers stations when their backs were turned. Talk about a gag gift (pun intended)! It’s still one of the most hilarious stories I’ve ever heard at the nail table. To this day I cannot fathom:

1) how exactly this man got the apple up there?

2) why an apple was chosen over other fruits (such as a banana, which would seem to insert easier due to it’s phallic shape, for instance)?

3) what the man thought the outcome would be?

All I can figure is that maybe he was into humiliation, otherwise why else didn’t he drive to a different town where nobody knew him so he could avoid the public embarrassment? On second thought, maybe he couldn’t sit in his car for a longer drive with that apple up his butt!


The Recovering Alcoholic & the Nail Competition

“The Recovering Alcoholic & the Nail Competition”


Candy was a good hearted ‘biker chick’ kind of a woman, in her thirties, with a good figure & a short blonde bob when I first started doing her nails. She was the type of person that people, especially men, would take advantage of because she had the need to please everybody & a heart of gold. Alcoholism was unfamiliar to me at that time & I’d never actually thought much about it before then. One night Candy came in to get her nails done & by the way she was slurring her words, it soon was evident that she had been drinking.



After her nails were finished, she stumbled around the salon looking at polish & other boutique items. By the look in my eyes the 2 owners could tell that I didn’t know how to handle the situation, so they both stepped in & directed her out the door. It was done in a friendly, but forceful, manner & since she wasn’t a mean drunk she happily went out into the night. A short while later I discovered that a bottle of polish was missing from the display case & we all knew where it went. The owners said they’d handle it & that was that.


About 2 weeks later when Candy came in (thankfully sober) the owners took her aside after her nails were done & told her what had transpired on her last visit. She was embarrassed & was more than willing to make restitution, so all was good. Many months went by & I didn’t think any more about it. Whenever Candy came in we always talked, laughed & had a good time at her appointments. Then I decided to enter into a nail art competition at the Midwest Beauty Show (now called America’s Beauty Show aka ABS), which would require much practice & the need for a hand model. Candy had great nails so I asked her if she’d like to be my model for that day & she was more than happy to do it.


On the day of the competition I picked Candy up in front of the salon & we drove out to where the show was held. It’s a pretty big show, with thousands of licensed beauty attendees & professional hair, skin & nail companies holding classes & demos going on at the hundreds of booths. Every beauty professional who’s worth anything goes to this show at least once in their career. It’s a place to see & be seen, plus make new business contacts, so you want to be at your best.


The competition went forward & it took several hours to complete. Models have to sit patiently & quietly while competitors work on their nails….which means, no eating, drinking or smoking, too. This category I’d entered was for flat nail art, which meant I had to paint tiny little scenes with acrylic paint on each of Candy’s 10 fingernails. Our models could only leave when the judges were totalling up the scorecards, so at that point Candy went out into the lobby to have a smoke (yes, they allowed smoking in the lobbies back in early 90’s) while I remained inside the competition room.


It took another half hour or so to finish all the judging & I didn’t win or place, which was disappointing. When I walked out into the lobby, the first thing I saw was Candy sitting on the edge of a big easy chair with her feet propped up on the coffee table. Since she was wearing a black leather mini skirt, sitting in this position made it possible for EVERYONE in the room to see her white panties! There was a grouping of 3 other easy chairs surrounding this glass coffee table, the kind of arrangement you’d see in a hotel lobby, & I was MORTIFIED to see all the surrounding chairs were taken by other beauty professionals……all of whom were seemingly enthralled by the scene that was unfolding!


Some stylists were even sitting on the arms of the chairs while Candy held court with a cigarette in one hand & a cocktail in the other. Unbeknownst to me, there was a cash bar at the end of the lobby & Candy had been drinking the entire time I was inside for the judging process! Inside my mind was screaming “OH, NOOOO!” as I rushed up to Candy to try to hustle her out of the building, fearful of what she’d already said to my peers.


The story she was telling was every bit as trashy as I’d feared. I walked in on the part where she was telling everyone how some guy she knew pulled a gun on her & she was waving her hand around as if she were holding a gun & pointing it at people, while ashes were spilling onto the carpeted floor from her lit cigarette. I can’t recall the rest of the story because my mind blanked out, but she insisted on telling it even though I tried repeatedly to get her to leave. I just wanted the floor to open up & swallow me at that point; I could’ve just died!


I still remember the look on the other professionals faces though. One guy looked away, as if to find a quick exit. Some of the other women had looks of “you poor creature” or “thank God I’m not you” on their faces. One girl’s expression was akin to the look you’d have if you just stepped in dog poo while wearing your best shoes. I felt like crawling out of there; I was so beyond embarrassed.


I finally managed to get Candy out of the building & back to the car, but then on the drive home she began freaking out about how her boyfriend was going to be mad at her for falling off the wagon. She would not let me drop her off at her car until she had some coffee, so we drove through a fast food place & she slowly started to sober up. Very slowly.  Too slowly for me. We got back to the salon, but she still insisted I drive her around until she was completely sober, so around & around the block we drove for the better part of an hour.


Finally I got her out of my car & sped off, not looking back. At the time I was so upset I really didn’t care if her boyfriend beat her butt because that’s what I felt like doing to her myself! I could not get away from her fast enough. The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I was. All I could say at the time was thank heavens none of those beauty professionals knew me! After that incident, I didn’t see her for a long time, which was fine by me. The sooner I forgot the whole sordid mess, the better.


Several months passed & Candy finally showed up to get her nails done. I acted as if nothing happened, but knew I’d never go out in public with her again. She had gotten back into AA, gotten rid of her abusive boyfriend & seemed to be doing better. She was trying to keep away from all of her bad influence friends & that was hard on her. Finally she met a decent man who was also in AA recovery & they started seeing each other. She said he treated her really nice & I was genuinely happy for her. We took up doing her nails just like old times where we laughed & had fun conversations.


Months later Candy & her boyfriend got into an argument & they didn’t speak for a few days. She was determined that he would make the first phone call to apologize. After about 4 days she got word that the police found him dead in his apartment. He’d died of a massive heart attack on Mother’s Day & laid there until his work reported him missing. Candy was emotionally devastated & fell off the wagon. Some people it seems just never catch a break.


A short while later I moved out of state & never saw her again. I think about Candy from time to time, especially around Mother’s Day & I hope that she’s okay. It’s like an ongoing mystery, which could either have a good ending or a bad ending. I prefer not to know for certain, but I like to think in positive terms.