Ok, you're going to think I'm obsessed with salon services, but here goes: since coming back from France, I've been thinking of finding an equivalent jewel in San Diego. There has to be something, right? Good service, clean set-up, fair price? Pretty please?
I was driving to get lunch, Mr. A was in the passenger's seat, and I spotted a new salon in our neighborhood. In an old craftsman home, looking cute and kempt.
I jammed the number into my memory by saying it out loud a few times. Then, I asked Mr. A to ask for me:
"Quick! Can you call them? Before I forget the number? Ask about their prices and any specials?"
He dialed. Someone appeared to answer.
"Hello," he crooned in his tenor timbre. "I'd like to learn more about your services."
"{Blah blah}"
"Sure. I'm curious about the--" he looked at me as if to ask what prices or info I wanted."Waxing! Full leg waxing!" I blurted.
"--Full leg waxing."
"{Blah blah}"
"Not for me, my girlfriend," he added.
If Mr. A were the blushing type, he would have lit the car on fire. But he's not. So he didn't.
"$70? Ok, thank you."
No thanks, salon. But thanks, Mr. A!
Gained: Info, and a laugh.
