You know when you go into a manicure place and after you walk through the door all of your instincts are telling you to leave  but as you consider it the only person there, who has their slippered feet up on a box of toilet tissue while they are watching some kind of soap opera, turns to you and all but roll their eyes at the interruption and then, before you know it, your polite Canadian ass (nails)  proceeds to get a manicure that looks like you could have done better yourself (without your glasses on…in the dark)…even though you pointed out twice that it was streaky and the manicurist (and I use that term loosely) is on the phone for half of the manicure ( I use that term loosely as well) and cuts your cuticles to the quick TWICE and THEN you are standing with the Interac machine in your hand (after they made noises about you not having cash)…and it is on the “tipping” menu…you are torn between two minds…and then you put in 3 dollars…which is totally an insult…and you walk away and feel bad…and at the same time wish that you had the balls to tip NOTHING.
Me Neither.
 
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