Was just talking with Shakia, the 20-year-old employee here at the Panera in Yonkers. Shakia is a lovely woman—soft-spoken, friendly, pretty. She has a big tattoo on the left side of her neck that spells out her name. It caught my eye, so I asked her the background.
“I got it when I was 16,” she said. “A big regret.”
Shakia says, thanks in large part to the tattoo, getting a job has been a beast. Here, everyone wears a collar, and hers is up. Not her choice.
I see more and more high school kids (especially athletes) with tattoos, and I always think the exact same thing: Are you out of your fucking mind?
Youth is fleeting. Youth is dumb. Ideas that seem wise—”I’m gonna get a tattoo with the Nike swoosh being straddled by a naked stripper!”—never work out.
So take it from your Uncle Jeffie, kids. If you’re gonna get a tattoo, grow up first.