Monday, March 5, 2012
Experiment with awkwardness #517
A few days after Christmas 2011, Groupon here in Omaha ran a deal for an hour's worth of tattooing for $39. The deadline to use the coupon was April so I knew I needed to get organized and call to get my tattoo. I had put off calling because I had a sense talking to someone at the tattoo shop wasn't going to go well. Sure enough when I called I ended up talking to a guy, who seemed stressed out at the very thought of each of the following 1. that I had a groupon, 2. that I wanted to get a tattoo with my groupon and 3. that the upcoming Saturday would possibly be a date to get a tattoo. We took them one at a time and eventually he told me to come in on two on Saturday. Before I hung up, I asked him if he wanted my name for my appointment, and he decided he would take my name.
On Saturday, I arrive at two, and of course he has forgotten all about me and appears panicked that I might want to get a tattoo. Eventually he puts together the separate facts that he has nothing to do right then and that I am available to get a tattoo. Ten minutes later he comes out and hands me paper work to fill out. I come back to his area to give him back the forms and just me standing there freaks him out and he tells me to sit down because I am making him nervous.
He asks me what I want to get done, which we had already discussed on the phone but he appears not to remember. I have two tattoo ideas in mind and I explain them and say that I realize he won't be able to do both, but whatever one he wants to do is cool with me. One of them is on my arm and the other is on my chest and back. He tells me he'd rather tattoo my arm than my chest and then tells me twice that he can't tell me which one I should get. That's my decision, he says. I tell him twice that I understand, that I'll more than likely get both tattoos. I just want him to let me know which one he wants to do today. He decides on my arm.
He takes my paper work and sets up his table. Evidently being around his level of confusion is starting to affect me because he asks me why I'm so nervous. Is this my first tattoo? No. Am I scared of the pain? I don't think so. Am I scared of him? Kind of, but I tell him that I am just a nervous-y person. Eventually, we settle in to a degree of comfortably. He does a nice job on the tattoo. The phone rings twice during the 45 minutes or so it takes him to set everything up and do the tattoo, to which he comments - welcome to Saturday. Evidently the other days of the week are a bit less hectic.
The guy ended up being nice enough. And he offered to do my other tattoo. And honestly I would consider it if I didn't know that we would be starting over from square one the next time I talked to him . . . wait a minute now, you're who, and you want a what? Man, I don't know.