Unfiltered Story #231100

(I’m a tattoo artist who does some relatively unique designs (at least in my area). I also keep a frequently updated portfolio online for people to take a look at my work. One day a woman comes in with a print out of one of my designs and asks to talk to me.)

Me: “Hey there, what can I help you with?”

Woman: “I’d like this, please.”

(This particular design is a custom sleeve I did for a good friend of mine that combines her Nordic and Japanese heritage.)

Me: “Sure, no problem. I can draw you up something like this. What kind of ideas did you have?”

Woman: “What? No. I want this.” *points to image*

Me: “Well, ma’am, I can’t do that exact tattoo since I made that for someone else. But I’m more than willing to make one inspired by it for you. This one was done for a friend who is Norwegian/Japanese, so maybe I can create one for you based on your heritage?”

Woman: “No. I want this one! Why can’t you just do this one?”

Me: “As I said, that was made for somebody else. I can do something similar though.”

Woman: “No! I want it to be THE EXACT SAME!” *slams her fist on the counter*

Me: “No. I can make you your own, or nothing.”

Woman: “Ugh. F**k you. I’ll get someone else to do it.”

(She leaves and I figure that’s the end of it. Artists in my area are great when it comes to not stealing someone else’s work, so I’m not too worried. About a month later the woman comes back and asks to see me, looking smug.)

Woman: “See? I got it anyway. I went on vacation and got it done.”

(She takes off her sweater to show me the tattoo. It is indeed, my design. However, the artist who did it completely butchered it. The lines aren’t even, the shading is blotchy, the ink was deposited unevenly into the skin, and it healed patchy. Tattoo theft is something I take very seriously, especially when it’s a piece that I poured countless hours into to perfect for someone close to me. I end up losing my temper.)

Me: “Yeah, and you know what? It looks like s**t. Have fun having that awful work on your body for the rest of your life. I could’ve made you one similar that would’ve looked amazing, but no. Conragts d****ss, you’re stuck with that crap for life. Now please, leave. We don’t want people like you here. You obviously don’t respect what we do. Go.”

(She looks absolutely shocked, and takes a good, long look at the tattoo. Thankfully, it seems to dawn on her what she did, and I hear her mutter ‘oh s**t’, under her breath. She looks up.)

Woman: *near tears* “Can you fix it?”

Me: “Nope.”

(She ended up calling the shop everyday for the next two weeks trying to get me to fix it. I said no every time, and on her last call she asked for laser removal recommendations. Be careful what you put on your body, people.)