Painting the town pink

In search of nail polish to give to a friend's daughter for her birthday, I popped in a little boutique (imagine something like Claire's in the mall) on my way home today. Rather than continue to cringe at the awkward memory, I've decided to share the story and hopefully bring a smile to someone else's day.

Me: Do you have nail polish?

Employee: No.

Me (thinking to myself): That's odd. This seems like just the kind of place that would have nail polish.

Employee: Here's a little basket for your shopping.

Me: No thanks, I don't need it.

After wandering for a few minutes I find a bin of nail polish and for the 1,000th time this year wonder if my Spanish can really be that bad. I continue to browse, carrying the nail polish in my (evidently) sweaty hand.

As I reach to check out some headbands, the pink nail polish slips from my sweaty little hand and shatters, covering the floor and my right foot with pink goo.


The employee stares in shock. I apologize. She hands me a basket and this time I sheepishly accept. She fetches a man with a dry mop to smear the pink goo around on the floor. I apologize again and ask for something to clean my foot. She looks a little confused and checks her pockets (for a tissue maybe?), then disappears in the back. Meanwhile, I borrow the man's dry mop to clean up the worst of the mess on my foot and hustle up to the counter, eager to get out of there and end the awkwardness.


The women behind the counter whisper back and forth as they ring up my purchases. I put the money on the counter and the original employee approaches. More whispering. Obviously embarrassed, she asks me if I could please pay for the nail polish I broke. "Of course," I say. They give my new total, and now I'm embarrassed again because I don't have enough cash on hand and have to ask them to remove a couple items.

Finally -- thank the Lord! -- I leave the store, smelling faintly of nail polish and feeling a bit sweaty and flushed from the awkwardness of the experience. As I walk down the street, I realize I have plenty of cash in my back pocket.  I do not go back to the store.