Face Palm Moments Part 2

I am not one that shocks easily, some may say to truly shock me is next to impossible. Yet each day at work I find myself making a strangulated noise as a customer says something that forces me to loose all speech. Recovering from these tidbits is always difficult, and I have yet to truly master it. Welcome to the second edition of the face palm stories.

Woman walks in with a Golden Retriever. She had called and said she wished to schedule an appointment, and asked for a price quote. Her dog she claimed weighed approximately 60 pounds, maybe a few more. I told her, being wary of owner weighing estimates that a dog weighing 60 pounds that was a Golden would cost about $50 depending upon coat condition. This covered nails, ears, bath, brushing, trimming of feet, a deep conditioning and a deshedding treatment. (Special brush that pulls out a majority of the undercoat so it stays in the grooming shop rather than become tumbleweeds that roll across your house.) In walks Gert, the Golden. Now Gert was quite literally nearly the width of the door. I held my hand up and explained that dear Gert did not weigh 60 pounds, dear Gert looked like she weighed much closer to ohh say 200 pounds. The owner disagreed and insisted the vet said she weighed 60 pounds. I asked for her vet records, as all new clients are required to present them their first groom so we can be sure the dog is up to date on shots. The paperwork did indeed say that Gert weighed 60 pounds, however the form when placed in the printer had not been set properly. Upon close inspection the same paperwork said Gert weighed 160 pounds! In the section that listed her weight, the one in 160 was atop the colon after the word "weight". She looked a touch embarrassed. I explained things like this happen and it wasn't that big of a deal. I asked if perhaps she wanted me to put Gert on the scale to verify her weight. She readily agreed. With a deep breath I set up the scale, and had her verify my weight, then proceeded to lift Gert and stagger the step onto the scale. As I sank to my knees under the weight of this very sweet Golden it appeared Gert had put on another 15 pounds. As Gert touched down and my arms felt like Jello, I looked at the rather horrified face of the owner.

She grinned sweetly at me and asked if there was any way Gert could be groomed for $50. Keep in mind the sign she had been reading as she entered gave the price list by weight. According to this list dogs weighing 150-175 pounds would be $80-$120. All I could do was shake my head and say “I’m sorry.” Her eyes momentarily darted to the clear posting, and immediately back to me as if she could pretend the list didn’t exist. In the back of my brain I could hear the little voice. “Oh no, she’s going to haggle.” I spent the next 10 minutes going back and forth as she came up from $50 in five dollar increments. Finally upon reaching $80 I explained, “I have to lift her into a chest high tub, then lift her out, and she’ll need to be lifted onto the table once before the bath, then again after the bath to be dried. Doing so is not easy on the body and she’s going to take me a whole lot more time than a dog less than half her size. Additionally I'll need to hold her up for roughly three hours during her groom as standing is going to be a considerable task for her."

She told me that she had to get Gert groomed, and she was having company but she refused to pay that price. I said I understood and handed her the leash. I explained that the time and difficulty in grooming a dog of that weight would require a price of no less than $90. (Obese dogs cannot stand still for any length of time, this requires me to groom them and continually lift them back onto their feet to stand. The injury to my back alone for doing so repeatedly for 3 hours more than warrants that price.) She looked stunned. “You’re not taking her?” Now I’m confused. She just said she wasn’t paying the price, so...maybe it’s me but if you walk into a supermarket and demand they give you the steak for $3 when it cost $15 they look at you; take the steak and send you on your way. Somehow this was not getting through to her.

I explained again, “Gert will be $90 to groom. If you wish to pay that I will gladly groom her.” This to me seemed like a clear statement. Apparently it was not.

“You’re not understanding me.” she said thrusting the leash back at me. I take the leash and look at poor Gert who is now sprawled out on the floor like a large orange throw rug. “I need her groomed, but I’m not paying more than $50.” I tilt my head, and wonder if there is some sort of communication barrier here. I had thought I was speaking English ran it over in my brain a second time, hmm…nope indeed it was in fact English.

I clear my throat, and I can hear the cop voice coming out of my mouth before I can yank it back. “Ma’am, I will groom your dog, for no less than $90, I do not have time to haggle or play games. I have 15 other dogs to groom today. Either you wish to pay that to have her groomed or you do not. If you do not, I ask that you seek the services of another groomer. If you do indeed wish to pay the $90 for her to be groomed, I will tell you now we do not accept checks and payment is required upon picking up the dog.” (we do actually accept checks, however in this case I made an exception) She stood there a moment, mouth slightly ajar. I raised my eyebrow and waited for a reply.

“Oh…well no then that’s fine what time can I have her back?” Honestly this was not the response I expected at all. I was waiting for her to huff at me spin on her heel and take Gert back out.

I smile and say that I will have Gert ready in four hours. She nods and out she goes. I peek out into the parking lot and see her driving away in a brand new Hummer. I do not envy the poor salesman that took on that task. I look over my shoulder at Kathy who has just burst into laughter. I give her my best “What?” look and in between laughing she manages to struggle out, “For a second there I thought you were about to pat her down and cuff her, or read her her rights.” I grin sheepishly.

Gert was groomed without the expected hernia, and the owner made another appointment for just before Christmas. She paid in cash and gave me a $20 tip. I’m not sure what in the earlier exchange slipped by me, but again, this was most unexpected.

A small Poodle we’ve been grooming for maybe 10 years every 4 months came in. This dog has had a consistent ear infection for the last 6 of those 10 years. Every time the owner comes in I tell them his ears are infected. I stopped telling them about 3 grooms ago. It was pretty clear they had no intention of doing anything abut it. It had after all been 6 years, and they’ve done absolutely zip to rectify the infection in the poor dog’s ear. They came in and told me rather shocked and somewhat cranky that their new vet said that he has an ear infection. Now I tried not to give them the “No really??!?!? You’re kidding me!? You mean the same ear infection he’s had for the last 6 years?! I’m stunned!” I tried very hard to look concerned and not to look at her like she had four noses. I nod. She goes on to tell me that the vet said that he likely got it from being groomed and having water go in his ear, and this is why suddenly, yes she actually said suddenly, he has developed this ear infection. She began to tell me that I should be more careful and that she couldn’t believe after all these years of trusting me as a groomer with her precious dog….

A strangled noise came from the back of my throat. It sounded much like I had swallowed a golf ball. I cleared my throat, picked up her card with all of the dog’s grooming information for the last ten years. I put it on top of the half door ever so gently, and spun it so she could read it. Ever so slowly I pointed to the year 2002. In February of that year it stated on the card he had an ear infection, in the column beside it was checked “Owner notified”. Beside this statement were the words “Went to Cape, swam in ocean.” Ever so slowly I moved my finger down the list over the next 5 and ¾ years. Showing her each and every single time she had brought the dog in that he both had the infection and was notified.

“Well yes, but you didn’t say it was a BAD one!” I blink. I move my finger to the very last entry of owner confirmation for said ear infection. “Saved cotton balls for owner, 8 black gross cotton balls to show severity.” This was almost a year ago. I see the light of recognition in her eyes. I nod at her to tell her that she can’t lie her way out of this one, I see she recalls the incident. Her eyes dart and I can see she’s about to try to lie to me. Before she can even get a word out I counter with, “That was right before your son’s wedding, you said you’d be taking him to the vet immediately since you were going to be out that way and I had offered to let you use the phone.” She looks stunned. It’s written all over her face. She can’t believe I remember the exact conversation. I smile and add, “I remember you just had your hair done, that’s when you had just cut it shorter, and had the slight flip to the side in your bangs. You had just come from Talbots and found just the perfect blue dress for the wedding, and Kathy made him a matching bow tie for the day.” Her eyes drop, guilt covers her face.

“Oh, oh…well..oh that’s right. Well, umm.” She scrambles for words but rather than let her dangle I throw her a rope and tell her that it’s good they’re treating it, and I would be horrified if they ever thought I had put their dog at risk in any way. She goes on to tell me that she would and could never believe such a thing. I bury my face in the Poodle’s cap to cover the look of me biting my tongue, literally. Thankfully though the dog’s ear infection is now gone. I can only pray he never gets another.

The last entry in the face palm moments is a classic. A fellow brought his cat in. The poor kitty had a wheelie chair, as something though he did not say what exactly had happened to the cat’s back. The cat got around well in his little wheelie chair but he couldn’t really groom himself very well. He asked that the cat be bathed. He seemed like a nice short haired kitty with bright eyes, and a healthy coat, but surely in need of a little freshening up. I took all of his information and told him it would be about two and a half to three hours. I didn’t want to rush the kitty since he was a special needs kitty. He seemed ok with that as I explained that it would take longer after his bath to dry him with the nice quiet dryer, rather than the faster more powerful and much louder dryer. He liked the idea, and I asked if there was anything special I needed to know in handling the cat. Did the cat have sensitive areas, areas that might cause him pain to touch or hold, things that he didn’t like for any particular reason? He said no to all of them.

I began to work on the cat. I trimmed his nails and trimmed the bottoms of his feet to help with traction so the fur didn’t cover the pad. So far so good. I put the cat in a crate while I prepared the tub. I began to bathe the cat and most cats don’t really fuss with the bathing system we have. It’s very quiet and has a nice massage nozzle. The bath is really quite relaxing, and rarely does any animal have an adverse reaction to it. Ever so gently I make sure his small face is well above any water, and I scrub him tip to tail. Squeaky as a newly washed dish and freshly rinsed and smelling wonderful I gently lift him onto a big fluffy towel to gently pat away as much of the water as I can so his drying goes quicker and is easier on him. I take another towel and begin to pet his head with it gently wiping the water away when all of the sudden the cat bends in half backwards from the disc that is no more, spins, and sinks his teeth into my wrist up to the gum. I yelp and try to dislodge him from my arm. He’s held tight. He’s trying to rip his face off my arm which is very much where I want him as well but he sunk his teeth in so far he can’t pull free and neither can I. Luckily for me my watch is waterproof and I was wearing it, because his teeth went right around it. Had I not had my watch on he’d have ripped that entire area of my wrist off. Time to ask for help.

One of my friends that was there visiting Kathy and I grabs the exacto knife from the drawer and cuts one of his top teeth free. A few more precise cuts later and the cat is free, however his entire face is now covered in my blood. I sigh. I begin to wet down a towel to wipe his face clean when Kathy grabs my arm, takes the towel, scruffs the kitty firmly but gently and cleans his face off. The cat the second she touched it with a towel went absolutely insane. Due to the fact he was missing the middle disc in his back he was able to spin and move in ways that were just quite honestly scary. Kathy scooped up the entire towel he was on and deposited him and the towel in a crate and quickly closes the door before he can pull any more Alien cat maneuvers. She then proceeds to dump half a bottle of alcohol all over my wrist.

Knowing now that the cat has a very horrid aversion to towels made his finish a thousand times easier. I finished him without putting any type of towel object near him and it went quite smoothly. His owner arrived right on schedule and I related to him that the cat has an aversion to being toweled in any way shape or form, and that he should know in case he ever needed to have the kitty groomed again. He simply nodded and said, "Oh yeah I know, why do you think we don’t bathe him at home?” I blink. I think for a minute if I had asked him if the cat had any issues. He said the cat didn’t. I can’t even think of what to say to the man. Kathy came over, lifted my arm, pulled the gauze covering off and showed him the four large gashes in my wrist. She explained this was what his cat had done, and it all could have been averted if he had said something about this earlier. Kathy rarely says anything to customers in that tone. The only time you hear her admonishing tone is when a dog weighs 2 or more times what it should, or when people don’t tell us when their animal is aggressive and they know it is. He just shrugged, and asked how much it was. She upped the price I had written of $35 on the blackboard to $60. He paid it without comment and asked to make another appointment. She then told him that she was afraid we could not offer the special services this cat required and he would have to go somewhere else. She suggested he tell the next groomer about the cat’s towel aversion. Discarding her advice entirely, he shrugged and said, “They always figure it out.” and left.

Kathy and I were kind enough to warn every single groomer in a 20 mile radius about the cat by calling them all one at a time the moment he left. When I arrived home and showed Matt, and related the tale he shook his head and said. “You were attacked by a middle aged paraplegic cat?” I just nodded. “He won too it seems.” I nodded again. “So angry aggressive Rottweilers no problem, but a 5 pounds middle aged paraplegic cat whipped your butt?” I nodded again, somewhat embarrassed. I felt bad for the kitty, I did not expect him to go Alien on me. Since this incident though I have always made sure whatever watch I buy is waterproof just in case I happen to meet another middle aged paraplegic kitty.