My friend Robyn and I went to get pedicures yesterday. There is a lovely new manicure/pedicure salon in town here run by a former high-powered medical executive from the Bay Area named Lynn who decided to get out of the rat race and into a job she could love... so, she (rather incongruously, it would seem) surrendered her savings and opened a nail salon.
The salon itself is comfy, with white overstuffed armchairs, exacting sanitation practices and native English speakers as support staff. More often than not -- at least at this time -- the person who rolls up her sleeves and tames your unruly cuticles will be this bright, easy conversationalist with a master's degree and a history of a decidedly more glamorous and "important," if immensely less fulfilling, job.
Now, instead of being jaded by the greed and inequity she encountered in oncology, with self-aggrandizing medical professionals making increasingly ridiculous financial demands while people of all ages with less-than-ideal insurance were going without life-saving chemotherapy because of the prohibitive costs, she scrubs legs with pumice and displays an inspiring willingness to dump material success in favor of, well, success. How does she measure that success? Well, besides keeping the bills paid and the doors open, she gets a thrill from watching other "amazing" women put their feet up with a piece of chocolate or a glass of wine. She loves her job, and when she finds the glowing reviews of her work online and is moved to tears, she finally feels she makes a difference in the world. Her crowning achievement is helping someone become so relaxed and comfortable that they fall asleep, as one customer did yesterday.
I didn't fall asleep in the chair, but I did enjoy the time. It wasn't just because I felt pampered at a particularly stressful time in my life. It was also because I enjoyed the conversation and the change of perspective it offered. In my limited time spent in salons of various descriptions, I have noticed that one of the things that many women enjoy about salon time is the chance to engage in a little armchair talk-therapy with the person scrubbing their scalp or filing their nails, and that truly gifted salon personnel manage to make their clientele feel important, beautiful and refreshed, if only for an hour, but I never really thought of those jobs as fulfilling... I mean, who would choose to wash the feet and heads of strangers? Lynn would, and she's not above asking others to open the doors to their own dreams as she did to the salon.
The three of us were talking about various things -- generically about work, marriage, pursuing what you love -- when Lynn looked up at me and said, "What do you do? You seem like a writer." Robyn giggled, and I confirmed that I am Editor-in-Chief of a magazine. I was taken aback for a moment. Is it that obvious? Do I have indentations in my fingers from too much keyboarding? Do I have a computer screen burned into my retinas? Did I appear to take mental interview notes while we talked? It was almost embarrassing -- like she had just pointed out a bit of toilet paper that I had dragged in on my shoe.
The next thing that I blurted out was even more surprising than her accurate guess at my career choice, because it had the clarity of a therapy-induced cathartic moment: "But I don't write for me." Lynn then asked me what else I love. Music, singing. I love that, too.
I've been thinking about what I had said a lot since then. I think it means that I also have somewhere within me the yearning to, at least figuratively, do what she has done... pursue my passions in an unfettered way. To pull my emotional savings out of the bank and write a book, or sing with a big band again, to raise a child... to somehow be more than I am now.
I don't mean to make it sound like my current job and activities and my passions are incompatible. Fact is, my current job is what I make of it, and I choose how I spend my time outside of work, and both my work and my leisure opportunities allow for me to do some of what I love. Lynn, however, provided a reminder that I'm really only limited by my fears and my choices, so if I want more out of life, the only person standing in my way is the same one that looks back at me in the mirror.
My toes are prettier today, thanks to Lynn. And, it seems, my horizons are also a bit broader. To boot, the pedicure was free. As Mastercard says so incessantly, some things are just.... priceless.
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4 comments:
I imagine she probably meets all types and is something of a student of humanity.
I confess that lately I have thought of what I would do if I didn't have any financial concerns. I don't think I'd be doing this. I think I would work with dogs...
Angie, she does meet all types, but she's a quick study. This is her first experience in the job and the shop has been open for about a month, no longer, so she is still building her client base. I might have expected it if she had been doing it for years. I was more impressed by her immediate grasp without the benefit of years on the pedicure stool.
Interesting and insightful. Good thoughts for all of us. At this point I am doing what I like - took a while to get here. But in the future...
And, oh, I have yet to thank all of you kids for my massage. I made it to Glen Ivey last Saturday - the day spa at Brea Mall and used the gift certificate you gave you dad and me. It was a nicer experience than I had anticipated. I can see the value of going with a friend. But I had decided is was a good time to concentrate on eternal things. Nice.
Between medical practices with gouge prices, and insurance companies that don't want to spend more than they have to, your friend probably got the experience being the go-between between these and patients. Her fed-up quota level was just lower than everyone else's, lucky for you.
PS. You have your own money and Dan doesn't gripe about spending it on yourself, more lucky for you.
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