Respect for the Non-tattooed

Neither of us feeling like cooking, last night my husband and I went out for dinner at one of our usual local haunts. Our waiter was a handsome, clean-shaven young man claiming to be 40 but looking more like 30. Anyway, he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt like all the other waiters, but something about him was different. At first we couldn't figure it out, but then we realized: his calves and arms were completely devoid of tattoos, whereas all the others were sporting full arm sleeves and matching back-of-the-calf nonsense.

Feeling like I knew our waiter well enough, having spoken with him a dozen times before, I asked, "Where are your tattoos?" I imagined a few on his shoulder blades, a popular spot for the men and women at my gym, every one of whom is tattooed. 

But no. He replied that he had none, adding that none of his five siblings had any either. No special reason, explaining that he just could imagine how bad they would look when he's older, and also what a waste of money. "People make choices in life, and that's not one of mine," he said.

See, every once in awhile you meet a good one. Respecting his decision and knowing he probably wouldn't waste it, we left him a big tip.