Sunday, 25 March 2012

You Can Take The Girl Out of Britain, But You Can't Take Britain Out of The Girl

Every month without fail I take a trip to the beauty salon and have myself a Brazilian wax, so the fact that for the next few months I won’t be at home around the corner from my local salon should not make a difference to my waxing schedule.
When I first arrived in the Caribbean for the first two weeks sourcing a great beautician to provide my usual was the furthest thing from my mind, but being on an island with a constant sea view it’s only natural to constantly want to jump the car and head to the beach to lay out in my itsy-bitsy-teenie-weenie- mis-matched batch of bikini’s all day. So in week two on the island I decided that it was time to start my hunt for a salon or a freelancer that could help a sister out for her monthly waxing ritual.
After asking a few different people and a few salons, I realised that this was going to be difficult to find somewhere that does waxing, but just as I was losing all hope and contemplating doing a DIY wax my cousin told me that there is a spa in town and she was sure that if anyone does waxing it would be them.

So one afternoon I decided to take a stroll and check the place out, the lady who greeted me was friendly which I found very comforting as I’m still adjusting to the island life version of customer service. I also noticed that they stocked a few ranges of familiar make up brands, so this made my comfort levels rise even higher and allowed me to relax a little about getting my wax done by someone new in a place where women walk around with hairy legs like it ain’t no thang but a chicken wang!

So now feeling confident about it all, I enquired and I booked my appointment for my monthly wax bang on schedule.

On the big day I arrive early like a true Brit, expecting to be greeted by the same pleasant lady, instead I was greeted by another lady who at this point I was undecided about her pleasantness.

My appointment was at 4:30pm, being that this is the Caribbean I had mentally prepared myself for my appointment to take place at 5pm the earliest, but to my surprise at 4:30pm no later I was asked to enter the room where my wax would take place.

As I entered the room I gave it a once over and gave it my private stamp of approval. The lady laid out the paper on top of the waxing bed where she would do my wax, placed the disposable panties neatly on top and let the room for me to get ready.

Shortly after she returned and this is when it all began. As she entered the room she told me to “get up ” that right, just like that “get up”, as I had positioned myself the wrong way round on the bed, so I did I was told and did a 180 to the other end. Once I was in the right place she reached for the wax, and began to apply, this all sounds normal right? Except for the fact that when she was applying the wax she was doing so like she was painting the walls of her house that reminded her of an ex whilst listening to Jazmin Sullivan “Bust the windows out your car”! Well she may not have been busting windows but she was defiantly trying to bust something!

So me being the polite soul that I am decided to try and make small but nice chit chat with the lady so that maybe she’d think that I’m this sweet little foreign girl that needs to be handled with care, but this just didn’t seem to work because when it was time to rip that wax strip off she showed no mercy and also no skill! There was no “Miss, please hold here, please stretch there”. Nada! Zilch! Niente! Nothing!!! She didn’t even bend my leg to get the spots that no-one sees but still need to be taken care of! At one point she pulled the wax strip so vigorously that she tore the disposable panties.

Once she finished she got a bottle of baby oil and poured what felt like half the bottle all over my waxed area, rubbed it in as though she was scrubbing stained carpet then asked me if it was ok? Too scared to say no, I simply replied “Oh yes, it’s perfect”.

As she left the room, I stood up and looked back at the paper on the bed and before I knew it I was in a silent fit of laughter as it looked like I had just pissed out a bottle of oil. The only thing that this lady did not do to me was flip me WWF style onto the waxing bed and fly kick my arse off it when she was done!

Once I managed to stop laughing and get some of the oil off me so that I didn’t spoil my lovely linen top from Zara, I got myself together,  walked over to the till paid the lady and with the biggest smile ever thanked her and wished her a nice afternoon. That was at 4:45pm. Never in my waxing life have I EVER had a bikini wax in 15 minutes!!!

If this is what I have to look forward to in terms of customer service then I have some major adjusting to do. I’m not saying that Brits aren’t the friendliest people out there, but Meu Deus we could never pull a stunt like that, we’d be out of a job before you can say Bob’s your uncle. I get that things are done differently in different parts of the world, but I’m sorry good customer service goes a long way!!!
Next month may just have to be option DIY!
Love Sara (A little lady who is a lover of great customer service!). xxxx
Image sourced from  Google

No comments:

Post a Comment