They do the most work but receive the least care. I take care of my feet the way most people take care of their shoes, and my shoes the way most people take care of their tyres.
My funda is simple: pour some water, add soap, get some basic work done occasionally, and that’s it.
But my cousin Christy wanted to celebrate her birthday by getting a pedicure. She asked if I wanted to come along.
We went to Nexus Mall in Kukatpally. Entering the mall is an experience in itself. If you’re a fan of Tokyo Drift, I recommend it. Three levels of parking, going round and round. It’s Tokyo Drift at 0.25x speed, with Maruti horsepower.
The salon was a flourishing business. They handed me a menu and recommended the second-highest package. This is the sweet spot of every service industry. If you choose the most expensive package, you suspect you’re being scammed. If you choose the cheapest, you worry they’ll look at your feet, blink twice, and declare the job done.
We chose the second-highest package.
My nail cutter arrived. I don’t know his official designation, so let’s call him a human nail cutter, made in India.
Whenever I encounter someone doing a job I know nothing about, I have two questions: Will AI take over this job? And did they have a terrible time during the pandemic?
The second answer was obvious. Their business was socially distanced from any profits. But AI? AI will touch your feet only when it has doomed all of humanity and wants to apologise. So a pedicurist’s job is more safe right now than a coder’s.
I got talking to him. He rides a Bullet, has tattoos and strong arms. He looked like the kind of guy who could resolve your land-grabbing issues. If he were a loan recovery agent, you’d probably pay three months’ EMI in advance.
But here he was, carefully trimming my toenails. Imagine the Undertaker from WWE chasing butterflies in a garden. That was the image.
The pedicure began. There were machines, creams, oils, hot water and enough equipment to make me wonder whether I was getting a pedicure or undergoing surgery. It was a lot of work. I have seen dentists do less.
By the end, my feet had gone from Mad Max to a Michelangelo sculpture. All for Rs 4,000.
My feet now looked better than my face. I joked about it, and the man immediately suggested I get a facial done. I said, “Nice try. Next time, surely.”
For the next half an hour, I couldn’t stop looking at my feet. I even took my slippers off in an auto and used my phone’s flashlight to admire them. I finally understood why people get pedicures.
My cousin said the experience was therapeutic. I mildly agree. For Rs 4,000, a therapist will help you understand your childhood issues, who hurt you and why you’re hurt. This man will simply remove the pain without asking any questions.
If actual therapy is a ten out of ten, I’d give a pedicure at least a six.
It’s been a week now. Michelangelo is fading. Mad Max is making a comeback.
Will I go back? No. Do I want another pedicure? Yes.
If my doctor ever tells me I can no longer indulge in my vices, no drinking, no smoking, nothing, and I happen to have Rs 4,000 lying around, I know where I’ll go.
Sandesh
@msgfromsandesh
(This comedian is here to tell funny stories about Hyderabad)
(The writer’s views are his own)
