Not Here for Guidance Counceling

 There’s this one kid at work, doesn’t really do anything very well, calls out “sick” too much, probably smoking mail-order weed, you know the type, I’m sure.

Well, yesterday this kid actually showed up for work in a functioning state and wasted about twenty minutes of his time and mine telling me about his tattoos. His sleeve tattoo was $4k. The colored one on his back was $800, the ones on either leg were $300 apiece. He got the wedding ring tattoo for $200 (the girlfriend he got that one with is living with his drug dealer now), the ear gauges were $100, the nose ring $300, and the silver bar thingy through the bridge of his nose was $200.

”How much for the hair cut?” I asked.

”I didn’t get one.” He said

I nodded knowingly. “Cool,” I replied. “I guess you’d be worth way more than me if it wasn’t for that $10k of debt you’re in.

”Hell yea,” he said. “Fuckin’ credit cards.”

”Hey,” I asked him. “Can I get the name of that tattoo guy you use?”

”Fuck yea, Dude! You gonna get a tat?”

”Nah.” I said to him. “I’m gonna see if he’ll promote my next book. I figure if he can sell that shit, he can sell anything.”

”You’re a real asshole, man.”

”Yea. I know. Now get to work.”

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