One Shiny Nail

Did I really just write a short story based on a shiny nail? Yes, I did. For as chill and as calm of a guy as most of you know that I am, for some reason I did not have as much patience as I usually do today…

I staggered into Woodfield Mall at 10:22 pm. I only had a little more than half an hour to make a quick sweep through the ginormous conglomerate of stores that are filled with overpriced, imported crap. I’m more of a ‘find-a-deal-on-ebay-kinda-guy’. However, time is of the essence at this time of year, with Christmas less than a week away.

I quickly walk by Forever 21, my arch nemesis, trying not to glance in it, in fear of being tainted with a headache. Yes, a glance in that store will instantly onset a headache. I cannot begin to count the hours I have aimlessly stood there while my girlfriend browsed through their clothes by going through the racks, piece by piece. If you’ve ever been there, you know how much clothing is jam packed into that chick dungeon. Anyways, I quickly walk by and escape its wrath.

“Free samples,” announces a mildy overweight girl with scabs of recently popped pimples that are chillin’ on her face. Her arm is extended with a small packet of face moisturizer.

I nonchalantly grab the sample and keep walking.

“Hey you, wait a second,” chirps the girl.

I turn around to see if she is talking to me. Yes, she is talking to me. She motions her finger to come back. I don’t know why, but I hesitate, and don’t continue to go on my way.

“I want to show you something,” she says. “Give me your hand.”

She grabs my hand without my permission. I think to myself, “This better not be that block that makes your nails all shi - ”

She pulls the block out before I can finish my thought, and starts scrubbing my index finger nail, while going through her sales pitch.

A few swear words go through my head.

I have had this product done on me a few times in the past and I absolutely hate it. One, it always makes my cuticles burn. Two, it makes your nail look like you just waxed it with an electric power waxer. Three, guys don’t make it a habit to walk around with super shiny nails, especially one super shiny nail.

“Guess how long this will stay shiny for?” she asks.

“A day?” I optimistically mumble.

“Nope, 2 months!” she exclaims.

Yet again, a few swear words go through my head.

She then proceeds to try and sell this devil of block to me for $60. I scoff at the price in my head, and say no as politely as I can. I start to walk away.

She grabs my arm.

A few more swear words go through my head again.

She tells me she’s going do something that she hasn’t done for anyone else, as long as I make a promise to her. Yeah right.

“I like you. You seem like a good guy and I think that people listen to your opinion. If you tell your family, your friends, your friend’s friends, heck even your pets {insert obnoxious chuckle / snort here}, how great this product is, and tell them to come here to buy one for themselves, I will not only give you one of these for $60… but two!”

With my cuticle burning at my side, I give her the look of death. “No thank you,” I politely, but not as polite as before, say. I begin to walk away. She grabs my arm a little firmer.

A lot of swear words go through my head, and I start to twitch as I clench my teeth.

“I really like you, and I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m gonna give you three of these for $30.” She starts to ring up the register.

I karate kick her in my thoughts. “I…said…no…THANK YOU.”

“How can you pass a deal like this up?” she questions.

“Because I hate that stupid block. Always have. And now, because of you, I have to walk around for 2 months with this shiny nail. Oh, and by the way, thanks for sanding the skin around my nail off,” I quip.

“That’s more of a reason to get one so you can do the rest of your nails. I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you fou - ”

I stop her mid-sentence, “NO, just please…please let me go. I now only have 15 minutes left to do my Christmas shopping.”

“You can buy one of these for your mom, sis - ”

I start to walk away as fast as I can. She raises her voice still trying to sell me the block, “Five for $10!”

I disappear into the closest department store. I look down at my finger only to be blinded by the glare of my nail. My finger also feels like it was dipped in hydrochloric acid. I walk out of the mall empty handed.

I scrape my nail on the gritty pavement a few times, rub it on the frozen patch of mud sticking out of the corner of the curb, and wash it with some snow, to see if I can make my nail look normal again. Nope, it is still as shiny as a mirror that was just washed with windex.

I was defeated.