(I’ve had an idea for a tattoo for a few years. My roommate comes back to our room one day with a beautifully drawn tattoo. I ask her where she got it and she happily gives me the shop name. I decide to call to make an appointment.)

Employee: “Hello, this is [Tattoo Shop]. How may I help you?”

Me: “Hi. I was hoping to set up an appointment for a consult? I have a design I want drawn out.”

Employee: “Okay. When were you wanting to come in?”

Me: “Ideally this weekend, but any time after five next week also works.”

Employee: “Okay. Well, you can just come in this weekend.”

Me: “Okay. I guess I’ll come in on Sunday.”

Employee: “All right, see you then!”

(Considering the woman didn’t ask for my name or phone number, I figure they don’t really do appointments, so I end up walking in on Saturday. The place is full of people getting tattoos. I walk up to the front desk.)

Me: “Hey, when would be a good time to come in for a consultation?”

Employee: “Well, [Artist] is going to be done next. Why don’t we go chat with him and see if he can do what you’re wanting?”

(We walk over to the tattoo artist. He’s currently working on someone.)

Employee: “Hey, this young lady wants a tattoo.”

Artist: *to the man he’s tattooing* “Did you hear that? She wants a tattoo; you’d better get up.”

(I’m starting to get uncomfortable; the artist sounds genuinely irritated and I can’t understand why.)

Artist: *to me* “What are you wanting?”

Me: “I want [design] over my heart.”

Artist: “Well, that’ll take some time to draw up.”

Me: “Okay?”

Artist: “So, you can either wait here or come back when I’m done with this guy.”

Me: “Do you know about how long it will take?”

Artist: *very rudely* “Well, I’m not going to rush him.”

Me: “No, I understand. I just don’t want to be sitting here if it’s going to be a few hours.”

Artist: “Yeah, it’s probably going to take two or three hours.”

Me: “All right.”

(I decide that I do not want to have this man tattoo me. As I walk out, I hear this:)

Artist: “The f*** is her problem?”

(I just left and ended up getting the tattoo at another shop that was far friendlier and better organized.)

(There is a villain in Doctor Who known as “The Silence.” They are instantly forgotten the moment you look away from them. My friend is going in to get a tattoo done that features the villain along with the words, “Silence will fall.”)

Tattoo Artist: “So, just the words will be [price].”

Friend: “What about the alien?”

Tattoo Artist: “What alien?”

Friend: “This alien.” *holds up reference picture*

Tattoo Artist: “Oh, right, hang on.” *turns to calculate price* “Just the words will be [same price as before].”

Friend: *getting frustrated* “But what about the alien?!”

Tattoo Artist: “What alien?”

Friend: “The f****** alien in the picture!”

Me: “[Friend], I think he’s just messing with you.”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “Remember where the alien comes from?”

Friend: “Son of a b****.”

Tattoo Artist: “Sorry about that, man. All together, it will be [different price than before].”

(I am going to get my first lip piercing with a friend. I am nervous, but everything is going well. Soon I have a ring on my lip.)

Piercer: *hands me some paper towels* “Just press this against it; the bleeding will stop soon.”

Me: *pressing them on my lip* “There is a lot of blood in my mouth already. Is there a sink somewhere?”

(My friend is talking with the piercer and they don’t seem to hear me. I am about to ask again but realize that if I open my mouth, some blood will spill out. I mumble something while pressing my lips together tightly, pointing toward my mouth with my free hand.)

Friend: *understands what I’m trying to say* “Oh! Um, is there a sink somewhere?”

Piercer: “There’s a bathroom down the hall.” *gives me quick instruction on how to get there*

(I almost run to the bathroom and spit a lot of blood into the sink. I am glad I made it; some leaked through my lips on the way there. I spit out a few more times, wipe my mouth, and go back, since it has almost stopped bleeding.)

Piercer: “Seems like I hit a blood vessel… That was some bad luck.”

(After paying, we leave. My friend jokes how funny I looked, making muffled noises and waving my hand around. I laugh at that, too. On the bus going home I realize something.)

Me: “I don’t think I washed the blood off that sink.”

(I have made an appointment to get a tattoo covered up. I sit down with the artist to talk about my options.)

Artist: “So, which one are we covering up for you?”

Me: “This one, right here. The one that says, ‘[Male Name].’”

(I roll up my sleeve and show him the tattoo of a small heart with “[Male Name]” written under it.)

Artist: *rolls his eyes* “Ah, broke up, did you? This is exactly why I don’t tattoo names on people.” *shakes his head*

Me: “Uh, no, it’s not like that. It’s actually–” *cuts me off*

Artist: “This is seriously one of the dumbest tattoo choices you can make. I mean, how stupid do you have to be to tattoo a boyfriend’s name on you? Jesus, c’mon. Nothing lasts forever these days.” *shakes his head again*

Me: “It’s not my boyfriend’s name; it’s–” *cuts me off again*

Artist: “Fiancé, husband, whatever. You’re a real idiot for tattooing his name on you. I mean, seriously–”

(Sick of his s***, I cut him off.)

Me: “Actually, it’s my father’s name. I got it as a memento four years ago when he died. Or I should say, when he faked his own suicide so he could go live with his new family on the other side of the country, which we just found out about. I want it gone. But I am definitely not doing that here. Goodbye.”

(The artist went absolutely white and tried to spit out some sort of apology, but I was already halfway out the door.)

(I’m a professional body piercer at one of the best studios in the state. We use the highest quality jewelry possible, and because of this, our prices are a little higher than most run-of-the-mill shops.)

Me: “Hello! What can I do for you today?”

Customer: “I want to get my bellybutton pierced!”

Me: “Awesome! Let me just check your anatomy really quick and get your paperwork taken care of. Here is the jewelry we can use for that area. The piece is going to be dependent on the jewelry that you choose, so let me know what you like and I’ll let you know a price.”

Customer: “I like this one!” *pointing to a very nice double gem prong set piece in implant-grade titanium*

Me: “Very good choice! That piece will go with anything you wear! Now, for the jewelry and the piercing fee, your total will come to $95.”

Customer: “Are you trying to to f****** rip me off? I can get the same thing down the street for $30. I’m going to report you for scamming!”

Me: “Ma’am, our jewelry is the highest quality you can find, contains no nickel or lead, and has a lifetime guarantee.”

Customer: “$95 is a total scam! I’ll have you fired! I’ll have it so you never make another dollar in this town again.”

(At this point I’m, of course, a little irritated.)

Me: “Ma’am, I’ve already told you about the jewelry quality; add on me putting myself at risk with bodily fluids, I think $95 is a fair price. Feel free to go to the shop down the street. You are an adult. I don’t think we will be doing business together and I have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “F*** this place! F*** you, lady! You’re all a bunch of drug addicts and bums!”

(She did leave, but not after knocking down some award plaques we have displayed and breaking one. She did end up coming back a couple of months later with a terribly done navel piercing and begged me to fix it. Unfortunately, there was no way of fixing it and she was left with a nasty scar.)