One of the perks of this job is you can look the way you want to look and you’re not discriminated against. Most of us who work here are in this for the long haul.

—DAVE, owner, New Tribe Tattooing and Piercing

ALL THE EMPLOYEES at New Tribe were unique—Ian and I were the only ones in the shop not decked out in tattoos with full backs and sleeves (full arm covered in tattoos). I spent the majority of my week as the shop gopher—sterilizing and packaging equipment, setting up and tearing down stations, taking out the garbage, and going on coffee runs for the tattooists and piercers. It made me realize one of the obvious limitations of the project. A highly technical job, such as a tattooist or piercer, demands a specific skill set that I couldn’t possibly develop in only one week. To be an accomplished tattooist requires years of training—well beyond my limited “paint by numbers” experience—not to mention an innate artistic ability.

That said, I was still happy with my decision to work at New Tribe. I got to experience the day-to-day world of an unusual profession and learn from people in the industry.

On my first day I worked with Joey, an eighteen-year-old with various piercings and a long Mohawk. He was apprenticing at the shop to become a piercer. He wanted to get his sleeves done but said that he first had to decide if this was truly what he wanted to do as a career. Understandably, having a lot of visible tattoos inevitably would limit his career choices. He mentioned that even though tattoos and piercings are becoming more common in the workplace, discrimination still exists when applying for jobs. “I’ve gone through a bunch of job interviews,” he said. “Most times I’d take out my piercings, but if I didn’t, I’d always notice a change in attitude. They just treat you differently.”

Dave, the owner of New Tribe, had been heavily tattooed for seventeen years. “As much as you think it’s acceptable, you still get looks, especially in more corporate or conservative environments.”

I could relate. When I first got dreadlocks, I often noticed how people would acknowledge me, then whisper to the person next to them. I’ve had them for so long now that I don’t notice anymore. Earlier in the year, I was asked if I thought that some companies wouldn’t offer me a one-week job because of my hair. I imagined that the answer was yes, but I wasn’t certain I’d want to work in an environment with individuals who would pass such judgment anyway.

If it’s not preventing employees from doing their job, then I don’t see an issue with being tattooed or having dreadlocks. But regardless of my opinion, discrimination in the workplace is real. In choosing the way we look, we may be limiting our options of potential careers or employers.

For many working at New Tribe, tattooing or piercing began as an interest or hobby that they later turned into a career. That was the case for tattooist Glenny, a smiley, heavily tattooed twenty-something I spoke to on her smoke break.

“When I was a young teenager and I first starting getting tattooed, I thought it was really badass, punk rock, and bitchin’—stuff like that,” she told me. “Then I was like, ‘That would be such a cool job,’ but I just didn’t really think of it in that context. When you’re going through the mental inventory of career choices, it’s not something that immediately comes to mind.”

She took a drag off her cigarette, then continued. “It’s a weird job and it’s really hard. On one hand there’s an artistic element involved—when someone’s like, ‘Draw me a mermaid,’ you have to be able to draw that—but when you actually go to do the tattoo there’s nothing artistic about it, it’s very technical. You have to think about their skin, you have to think about your machine and how it’s running. … Come to think of it, you might as well be welding.”

Dave’s first experience at New Tribe was as a customer. He walked up the stairs into the second-floor shop and decided to get a tattoo. It was the first time he thought of tattooing as a viable career, rather than just a distraction or a hobby. Now, several years later, Dave is the owner.

Dave had tattoo-covered arms, sported a full beard and, typically, a backward hat. “I’m doing something I like,” he said. “I don’t ever hate coming to work, unless I’m hungover or sick. But in terms of getting up every morning, I’m excited. I’m challenged by what I do.”

He adjusted the brim of his hat and leaned back in his chair. “You look at all these people in college—they’re changing their majors, they’re doing a major/minor, they don’t know what they’re doing. They’re just there for the experience. On one hand you could criticize that and say that they’re wasting their time, but on the other hand it’s good, because at least they’re getting experience, they’re getting exposed to stuff. I think exposure is so important. Right now you’re being machine-gun-exposed to something new every week. I knew by waitering that I didn’t want to be a waiter. I knew by making pizzas in a pizza shop that I did not want to do that either.

“Who knows, if I hadn’t walked up those stairs that day, maybe I wouldn’t be here today, an owner of this shop.”

I’d never wanted a tattoo before, but each day when I walked up the stairs into the shop, I debated getting my first one. At the time it seemed like a sensible idea—working at a tattoo shop, almost halfway through my fifty-two jobs, a tattoo to commemorate the occasion—but in the end I chickened out.