Once upon a time I worked at a big, busy shop in a big, busy city. I was there one Saturday night and we had a lull in the action for a bit. A few of my coworkers and I slowly gathered near the front counter, hanging out and shooting the shit while we kept an eye on the front door.
A big group came in after a while, a pack of adults who were most likely a family, all dressed beautifully as if they had come from a wedding party. Leading the pack was a chubby little boy who charged in excitedly, with a great big smile on his round face. A man in the group pointed at the boy and said, "He wants a tattoo." We all laughed that ha-ha laugh, trying to be polite, even though we got sick of that joke after the 5,094th person came in and made that joke about the infant/toddler/kid with them. A woman in the group handed me a piece of paper on which was printed a small, black cross. "This one," she said, as I took the paper. The boy stood before me, looking up at me expectantly, and she ruffled his hair with her hand.
I did the ha-ha laugh again, and looked at her. She looked back at me with a patient expression, and my eyes flashed to the rest of the group, all of who were looking at me with equal expectation. I looked back to the woman who still wasn't saying a word.
"Oh--you're serious?" I stammered.
She nodded and smiled, and said, "It's okay, I'm his mother."
I was flabbergasted. "You're---but---how old is he?"
"Ten," she replied serenely.
"I'm--we---We can't tattoo him!"
"I'm his mother."
"I know, I heard you the first time! But he's a ten-year old boy! You gotta be kidding me! We can't do that!"
"But I'm a doctor in my home country," she replied, her tone moving from cool to chilly.
"I don't give a damn, we're not tattooing a ten-year old kid!"
The men behind her shifted, glancing at each other. "So there is nothing we can do?" one of them asked.
"You can leave," one of my co-workers said from behind me.
They did just that, muttering to each other on their way out. Really, do I even need to enumerate the reasons why tattooing a ten-year-old kid is a bad idea? I probably should have asked where they were from. I like to do a little globetrotting when I'm able. If the medical professionals over that way recommend tattooing little kids, I'd like to stay out of that corner of the world. With my luck I'll have an emergency and I can't imagine what passes for treatment.
