Is a good deal ever really a good deal?

Judging by the Mani/ Pedi/ 10 minute back massage for $25 that PB and I went for today, no, a good deal is not EVER a good deal.

Yes, the price was right, but there was a reason for it.

The pedicure chairs had wooden covers on them, like the kind taxi drivers put on their seats. And the nice bubbly tubs that your feet go in? no bubbles. no soap. just scorching hot water.

PB opted for just the pedicure and back massage portion, while I was planning to do just a manicure and pedicure. By the time PB was done with her massage, I was still getting my shoddy manicure (aren't you supposed to cover my nail with polish? no, not my finger...my whole nail? isn't that what you do everyday? how can you not achieve this yet??).

PB offered up her credit card to pay for her pedi and back massage. $27. Eh...What?
Turns out it would be cheaper for her to get the manicure in addition to what she already had.

She got the manicure. Mid-way through her manicure, I relocated to the massage chair.

The green, 20-87 year old massage chair was dragged into the center of the shop, a little paper towel was put on the face piece, and I was instructed to sit down. This is what ensued:

1. The paper towel slipped and my face touched the green leather that probably hadn't been cleaned in a decade. Ew.
2. The chair was rickety. Like, really almost about to fall to the ground.
3. The massage was barely a massage. It was a set of hands going at my back as if they were trying to kill a super fast ant that was racing all over the place.
3. While trying to kill the super fast ant that must have existed, the body attached to the set of hands was HUMPING me. To reach my shoulders and neck (which she basically just prodded at) she straddled my back and leaned into me. Personal Space? Not during this "massage".
4. Don't think it can get any worse? You're mistaken. Directly under the face piece that my cheek was touching, there was a metal bar. Every time the woman touched me in her jerky way, the bar slammed into the space between my bottom lip and chin. At one point my tongue was rested between my teeth. I promptly clenched my teeth together after the bar smacked me and made me crunch my tongue.

DING! finally, the bell went off and I was done. I get up and sit down next to PB at the nail drying area.

"How was it?" PB inquires. I look at her and smile. The woman who performed the torture is still standing within earshot.
"Then you must have had the good one, oh my god mine was so awful. She didn't know what she was doing and there was a bar digging into my face the whole time." This entire sentence escapes PB's mouth before I can manage to explain that I had the same loathsome experience. We spend the next half hour or so comparing the crappiness of all that happened.

Cheap is not always better. And here, the icing on the cake:

Disaster

We dried our nails in a foot dryer. Note the words "Pedicure Dryer" clearly stated on the machine. Oh, and see that little wooden thing? That's what all the chairs were covered with. Guess they were going for a theme. Um...mission accomplished?