I went into town for the last of 10 prepaid face-laserings this afternoon. Got an even more cursory treatment than usual from a new girl more intent on thoroughly dealing with her chewing gum than my face.
I said I was happy with results so far, and mainly concerned now with the (still quite blue) beer froth zone around my lips.
She worked a rather eccentric path around my neck, diligently chewing all the while, and quickly pronounced me done.
When I pointed out that she had stayed well clear of the region that I'd particularly wanted her to focus on, she apologised and quickly administered a few cursory blasts, but far fewer than I was used to.
Back out at the counter staffed by a clump of four or five more ardent gum-chewers, I was asked if I wanted to make another appointment, and braced myself for an upselling. But on telling them that this was the last episode of the current series, they seemed reluctant to renew the show for another year.
Over the ten appointments, I have to say that I haven't had the pampering I was anticipating from a boutique mainly concerned with providing services of dubious efficacy. My understanding is that the closer you get to a placebo, the greater the rigmarole with which it is dispensed.
Was it a trans thing? An age thing? I would have thought that, faced with "a renovator's dream" like my sorry visage, they'd think "Ka-ching! Rivers of gold! Happy days are here again…!"
Mind you, if everybody wants to be young and gorgeous, it may be easiest, and safest, to deliver on that promise to those young and gorgeous enough to already have it. (Plus, you can share chewing gum recommendations.) Ickity-ackity-oop!