In the middle of the 21st century, it’s a bit unusual for a person to have no visible tattoos. I was hoping the interviewer wouldn’t notice. I thought that I was doing pretty damn good and I desperately wanted—no, needed—this job.
He threw tough questions at me and I skillfully lobbed back brilliant responses. I’m a sharp young woman, even without visible tattoos. I’m told that a few generations ago, wearing glasses suggested intelligence. Nowadays, as you know, it’s stylish tattoos.
After awhile, I notice he is as staring blankly at me. Then he checked his watch. He was getting restless. Despite my brilliance, he was unimpressed.
Of course, I do have a tattoo. Not a visible one, but I certainly have one. “Amy,” I said to myself. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
That’s when I turned around, lowered my pants and mooned him. I think he really liked the tasteful yet bold three-dimensional möbius strip tattoo on my left cheek. I start Monday.