First Ink

At the age of 54, I decided to get my first tattoo. For 35 years, I've been wearing the same symbol - an eight-pointed star. It goes by many names - a compass rose is the most common, but it's also known as the Amish Star, the star of Ishar, the star of Inanna, and the star of Zoroaster - that's not even scratching the surface of the list. I've always thought of it as my personal symbol, since the day I found it at a garage sale.  At the time I had no idea what it meant or stood for - I just knew it was mine.

It usually has much less green scum on it.

I've contemplated this decision for many years, but only came to the decision recently, after discussing it with a co-worker.  He has a lot of ink himself, and gave me a ballpark figure on what I could expect to pay, and how long it would probably take.  He also knows a few people in the business (of course) and pointed me in their direction.

My first direct contact with Eternal Tattoo was via their website, and yes, they have a FAQ, so if I'd read the thing in the first place I'd have saved myself some confusion.  But I didn't, so the communication went like this:

1. I used the website to contact the shop, selecting the option provided by the site that they contact me by email.  I asked for a Monday appointment.
2. They wrote back that they are closed on Mondays and suggested Tuesday, or any other day really, and do I have a picture of what I want?
3. I wrote back, said the following Tuesday was fine, and sent a scan of my medallion. 
4. They wrote back, telling me to call for an appointment

Okay, that was my first pause.  Folks, listen up:  If you're going to make people call you anyway, don't offer the false choice.  It's just infuriating.  I could have decided, right then, to end my relationship with that shop.  But I didn't.  Moving forward. 

1. So, I called, identified myself, and asked for a Tuesday evening appointment.  
2. They couldn't find the file I'd scanned and emailed.

Second pause.  Dude, I said to myself, this is someone that you are considering hiring to put a permanent image on your skin, and they can't keep track of their shit.

1. They then asked for a deposit before making the appointment.

Third pause (although this wouldn't have been if I'd read the FAQ).  Turns out that this is an industry practice.  It makes sense, if you think about it, because I imagine a lot of people chicken out of actually following through with permanent ink.  Still, it made me think.  Here is a business that is placing no trust upon me, the customer, and asking me for a lot of trust in them, the artist.  I now have a choice of traveling to their office to pay a deposit in cash, or giving them a credit card number over the phone.

And this is the first I'm hearing about this -- couldn't they have said something sooner?  Shouldn't they have, oh, I don't know, like, a FAQ or something?  Geez, I've about had it with these guys!

Omaha has a plethora of tattoo parlors (and yes, I know what a plethora is), but I only visited two. The first (Back Squirrel) one may have just been too busy, but the artist at the counter struck me as unfriendly and dismissive. He glanced at the medallion. quickly quoted a price, and proceeded to tell me what parts of it I couldn't have - unless I wanted to increase it to a 5-inch diameter. Call me sensitive if you like, but if I'm going to pay someone to stick me with needles, I kinda like to feel more at ease around them, and I wasn't getting any warm fuzzies there.

So I proceeded to another shop - the one I'd become frustrated with before.

Why did I do this?  I can't really say.  I guess it was mainly because I wasn't ready to give up on the idea completely, and my frustration had - well not exactly cooled, but redirected.

This was day to the other's night. The artist at the counter (Eric) asked questions about the medallion, seemed genuinely interested in the answers, and the only modification he suggested was filling in the blank areas so that the star was more visible.  His time and cost estimate were exactly the same as I was given at Black Squirrel (about an hour, about a hundred), but I came away from this feeling more like it would be well-spent.

So I made an appointment for the following Tuesday.

I'd made some plans with family for the day of.  I set the appointment for 7, figuring we'd have dinner around 8, then head for a movie around 9:45.  This didn't work out - a lesson to any other neophytes out there, don't make hard plans on your ink day.  My session ran a full hour overtime.  But that's the worst of the news.

The process itself wasn't nearly as painful as I'd been led to expect.  Or maybe I don't have any pain nerves in my chest, I don't know.  (That was the location, upper left chest)  The pressure was worse than the pain, and truth to be told, by the time it was all over my butt was more sore than my chest.  The other artist on duty was also interested in the symbol, and also my CABG scar, which resembles an alien sea slug.

The experience was much more interesting for me than for my wife & daughter, who were stuck waiting around for a couple of hours without much to do.  About halfway through I waved them over and asked if they wanted to go ahead and get dinner, but they declined.   

Eric is, in my opinion, a true artist and I had no interest in trying to hurry his work.  All of the detail I'd been told I couldn't have, he captured.  And even though it took twice as long as he thought it would, he didn't charge me any more than the original estimate.

Not shown: Alien sea-slug

Two weeks later, the skin is peeling and it doesn't look nearly so nice, but from what I can see of what already shows from beneath, it's going to be just fine.

I will probably never do this again, because there aren't any other symbols I feel this strongly about, but if I did, I'd take my business back here.