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When I finally accepted the mistake of my poorly placed, ill-thought tattoos (don’t ask), the first place I looked into for their removal was LaserAway. Admittedly not the best place to go, since they specialize in hair removal, but I couldn’t help it. Their marketing was pretty, pink, and pointed. A place for women created by women (!), a place you can go to get work done safely, and without judgement. It called to me like a siren and took me in with a sweet smile before dragging me to the deepest parts of the ocean.
I called to schedule a consultation, because their vague website only allows in-person meetings, and hung up with my first removal session scheduled for the following week and a thirteen hundred loan in my name via Ally Lending (now Synchrony). To be clear, I didn’t give them my credit card information over the phone—I’m very skeptical of doing that. It’s the one scam I know not to fall for. One minute the lady on the phone was asking for pictures of my tattoos to give me a price estimate, and the next she had me checking boxes on my user profile which was disguised permission to load me with a credit I didn’t ask for. Payments due on the eleventh of the month. (Is this how the experts trap people with crushing debt?) I know, I know, I totally got swindled. But, hey, at least there was 0% APR for the first year!
The closest location was three towns over and I had to put in a last minute request for the time off from work in order to make the midday appointment. I guess it’s in LaserAway’s policies to get you in as soon as possible so you can’t file for a full refund. I spent more than forty-five minutes in January snowbird traffic, which happens every year when people escape to Arizona to avoid the winter weather, before I made it to the office. (It was just as pink as I expected it to be.) I was seen almost immediately, which was nice, and taken back to room five, their designated “tattoo room” and the furthest down the short hallway. The nurse offered pleasantries and handed me a small ice pack to “cool down the area” along with some too big lenses to protect my eyes from laser exposure.
I sat down on the patient bed. She fired up the machine. I took a deep breath, and she lasered off the top layers of my skin.
The whole thing took about three minutes. An almost complete waste of time that left globs of protective petroleum jelly in my hair and rashes from cheap bandage tape on my neck and chest. I seriously debated if the literal blisters and bruises were worth it, but remembered I was already locked in for over a grand. I scheduled my next appointment twelve weeks out (“the longer in between sessions, the better it turns out”) with the woman at the front desk who looked annoyed that I interrupted her conversation with one of her regulars, and high tailed it out of there, not at all looking forward to our reunion.
The first session made no difference in the look of my tattoos, still solid and black. They told me it would take at least five to see a noticeable change. It goes along with what I have heard about tattoo removal, but because it’s coming from them, I don’t like the fact. LaserAway kept up with their emails touting new spring deals of hair removal and filler combos. When the time came for my next appointment, I made the same out-of-the-way drive up state to their office only to be told that I had missed my appointment. The 12:20 time on my confirmation email was actually 12:15 in their system. I guess five minutes was too long to hold my appointment, so they gave it to someone else. There was just nothing they could do for me at that moment.
I rescheduled for their next available spot—the following Friday—turned around with my tail between my legs, and made the depressing drive home with no music on. Another wasted trip. Friday came around, I made that same tired drive through nothing but dry desert, and got stuck in the waiting room for more than twenty minutes past my appointment time. (Guess they really aren’t that important.) Someone from the back came out to tell me their tattoo machine was being taken for maintenance and it was their only one. I didn’t really understand the difference between a tattoo machine and a hair machine, they are both lasers right? Why couldn’t that work? They said it would be out for a couple weeks, but weren’t entirely sure. (Is this the first time it’s being taken for maintenance? Come on!) I told them I’d call to book and left feeling like I had wasted all my monthly payments on some corporate scam. Another quiet drive home.
Two more times I made the drive to that pink beacon and two more times I was turned away. “Sorry, the machine is still out for maintenance. We tried to call and let you know ahead of time.” Zero missed calls, zero voicemails. Two months later: “We actually had to send it back out, we’re planning on getting a new machine.”
“If you don’t have the machine, why would you let me book an appointment?” Frustration.
“I tried calling your number on file, but the screen closed and I don’t have access to client accounts.” Excuse.
“I didn’t get any call.” I’m not budging.
“Sorry for the inconvenience. We can offer a free session of underarm hair removal if you’d like.” Diversion. A piss poor one at that.
Enter back and forth between me saying no and her asking “Are you sure? It’s free.” I wanted to tell her to leave me the hell alone, that her insistence on a single session of hair removal being an adequate substitute for my wasted time and tattoo removal was worth a crock of shit, and that she should think about getting a new job. Or at the very least a new system and multiple tattoo machines. But I bit my tongue because I knew it wasn’t technically her fault and at this point I was over it. Over LaserAway.
I made the final drive home, no longer quiet, but rather loud and angry with songs about sticking it to the man. I let it fuel my own anger and annoyance and frustration and decided on a path of fair retribution. Something had to be said about how ass-backwards LaserAway is, how much of a scam they are. The people need to know, they deserve to know. LaserAway may be a cheaper alternative than the competition, but they’re clearly not worth the pushed appointments and bad service. There was only one option: Google review.
4.5 stars from over four hundred reviews. (How?) All of them grateful for the amazing staff and great service. Most of them vague in naming their treatments, but a clear majority in anything but tattoo removal. (Ah, that’s how.) I know my one star won’t do much to upset the average, but it makes me feel better to click submit and know that someone might see it and think twice like I should have. Maybe if I had done more research, thought out my tattoos a little better like everyone told me to, I wouldn’t have half-erased ink splotches on my body. (Though, I still think those are better than what I had.) It also makes me feel better to let someone else take the blame for a change. At least this one time. I have a lifetime to make up for it anyway.
Gigi Ramos is an Arizona based writer with roots in the Midwest. When she isn’t writing she can be found hiking the Sonoran or at a movie theater watching the latest horror release. Her favorite revenge story is a recent watch (and recommendation), The Descent.
