On Being Served Before A Pregnant Woman

Drew

— 2 min read
Share
On Being Served Before A Pregnant Woman
Photo by Giorgio Trovato / Unsplash

The other day I got a very nice pedicure with my friend. She is pregnant. I am not. The nail salon was quite busy, so it took us awhile to be seen.[1] There were three people in our party, all in a row. From left to right, it was me, my pregnant friend, and my mother.[2] After a good long time spent with my feet soaking and my spinal cord being pinched by the massage chair[3], the technicians started on our feet. The problem was that they started on my feet.[4]

I was horrified. Unfortunately, my desire to advocate for my friends did not override my mixture of aloofness and and social anxiety in that moment. I did not say anything. I sat there, having my feet rubbed pleasurably while my massively pregnant friend’s feet were suspended in a rapidly cooling water, approaching some sort of vague simulacrum for the baby floating inside of her.[5] Reflecting on this moment, I wondered why I was served first. Why wouldn’t my pregnant friend receive service first? Isn’t that customary? If you were going to go in a straight line, why not start with my mother, the eldest of our group? Was it because the nail technician perceived me as a man, and men are served first? Did she think I was paying?[6]

Deep down, I know the answer is probably that the nail technician was operating on autopilot this late into a stressful day. Still, this occurrence did send me into a tailspin. I felt indebted to my friend for not speaking up and sending the warm hands to touch her feet first.[7] Is this essay my penance? Can one apologize via email newsletter and have it mean anything at all? Will my friend see this when I post it to my Instagram Story and have a hearty laugh reading this shared experience through the eyes of another? All of these questions evade me as much as: “Why was I served before the pregnant woman?”

  1. It was the Saturday before Easter. My nail technician said that every single person through those doors wanted an elaborate and often egg-themed design. I did not envy her. ↩︎

  2. My mother is also a friend of my friend’s. ↩︎

  3. In combing through my memories after, I realized that there was a “width” setting on the remote for the chair. Does spinal column width correspond to height or birth sex? Anyway, I might have avoided the squeezey-squeeze if I’d played with this button more. ↩︎

  4. And on my left foot! Which I don’t know if is odd or not. ↩︎

  5. I believe the baby is much warmer. ↩︎

  6. I did not pay for the pedicure. ↩︎

  7. Not to mention another massive faux pas: The nail technician asked if I had fathered my friend’s baby. Half-hearing the question and not wanting to ask for clarification, I nodded vigorously and said, “Yes!” :( ↩︎

Read more