I have been a bather for around two months, which means basically that I am the gofer of all the groomers. A dog peed on the floor? Get the bather. Need to vacuum up hair clippings? Call the bather. Phone call with an angry customer? Where’s that stupid bather?
As a bather, I am told that I will have no more than eight to ten dogs in an eight-hour shift, preferably with three dogs checked in at once, a three-hour period to work on said dogs, then three more dogs, three hours, etc. It never goes down that way, of course, but I am young and naïve at this time and just nod and smile.
I come in to start my shift to find that I have four dogs already checked in and waiting. Okay, I can do that. I get to work. I get called out of the back and away from a particular Shih-Tzu, who is spinning its head around 360 degrees and spitting pea soup, to check in the fattest Doberman in the history of dogdom.
The woman requests the whole shebang — bath, special shampoo, teeth brushing, nail grinding — everything except having the nails painted. Okay, no problem. I tell her that will be three hours, pickup time at 1:00 pm, sign here, have a good day.
I kennel the Shih-Tzu long enough to wash the Doberman and plunk her in the kennel to dry. I make a note that I’ll have to get her out around 12:30-ish, at the latest, to do her nails and brush her down.
What you have to understand about bathing is that it’s a matter of timing. First, you check for matted hair, trim as necessary, and wash down your dogs. If they’re not brachiocephalic (the “ran into a glass door dogs,” i.e. bulldogs), extremely old, or otherwise breathing impaired, slap a kennel dryer on them and let them mellow. If they are brachiocephalic etc., you have to dry them by hand or with the blow dryer, which, trust me, all dogs love (sarcasm here). You have to arrange this in such a way that Dog A will be ready for brushing while Dogs B and C are drying and then rotate. If I manage to get done early, I call the owners and tell them they can come to get Fido whenever.
While all this is going on, my lovely coworkers have checked in yet more dogs that I have to work into the rotation. It is 12:30 when one of the groomers calls back and asked if Blossom, the Doberman, is ready to go.
Me: “What? No, not yet. She still needs to be brushed and have her nails done.”
Groomer: “Okay. Her mom’s here. I’ll tell her.”
A moment later, the groomer is back.
Groomer: “She’s really mad. You’d better come.”
Me: *Thinking* “Oh, really? Joy and rapture.”
I come out, and the lady is practically breathing fire; she is heretofore known as Dragon Lady.
Dragon Lady: “What do you mean, my dog is not done?! She’s been here for two hours! What’s there to do to a dog in two hours, huh? Give me my dog!”
Me: “Ma’am, I am almost done. We ask for three hours to groom your dog—”
Dragon Lady: “That’s way too long! It shouldn’t take that long!”
Oh, yeah, lady? Maybe not for one dog, but at this point, I have six dogs in the back, each with a different pick-up time and different “spa treatments” that I have to dish out, several of which are long-haired and require even more time. Would you like to come and wrestle with the hydrophobic Husky in kennel nineteen while I trim Blossom’s nails?
Outwardly, I apologize again and tell her that if she’ll give me a few minutes, I can finish up Blossom and they can go. She huffs at me and stalks out. Awesome.
I put away the dog I was working on and pull out Blossom. I manage to hoist her overweight butt onto a table and start to brush her down, and here comes Dragon Lady… with the store manager.
The Dragon Lady is still going strong.
Dragon Lady: “I had plans for today! This is the worst service I’ve ever had! I’m never coming back here again!”
You promise?
Dragon Lady: “I’m going to miss my shows because of you people!”
The store manager takes me aside and wants to know what’s going on. The Dragon Lady, apparently, has told her that I was rude, that I was lazy, that I was taking extra time with her dog, that I was running late, blah blah.
I’m already upset over Dragon Lady’s attitude from earlier, and I’m about ready to cry at this, because for every minute that I’m stuck dealing with Dragon Lady’s tantrum, I’m getting behind on schedule, and oh! Look, they’re checking in yet ANOTHER bath dog for me! Yay!
I show the manager the lady’s paperwork from sign-in. Along the bottom, it clearly states “Pickup Time: 1:00 pm.” The manager nods and takes the paper to show the lady.
A little later, she’s back.
Manager: “If you have the dog done by one, she says she won’t complain.”
Nothing like a little pressure. And nothing like trying to grind the nails on a large dog when it sees its “Mommy” standing right over there and wants to go home. There’s a reason that we ask the owners not to stand around watching, and it’s the same reason that preschool workers try to distract the kiddies at drop-off while Mommy and Daddy are sneaking out the door.
So, what should have been a five-minute nail grinding turned into the hellacious sumo-Doberman grappling match of the year. Adding to this, I am fairly short, meaning I have short arms, making it difficult enough for me to get a large dog in the nail-clipping body-lock, triply so if the dog is fighting back.
I did finish the dumb dog on time (ha!) and even had a few minutes to spare to spritz her with some doggy cologne.
The Dragon Lady gave me a tip.
A whole dime.
