Tuesday, June 28, 2011

And you wonder why you can't find a real job?

So, there I was, at the Walmart this weekend, and in walks some girl with bolts in her ears, tats all over, and blood red hair.  I mean, her hair looked like she just walked in from playing Carrie at the school play.  Reeeeeed hair.  I just turned to my Beautiful Wife and said “she’s going to spend her entire life wondering why she can’t get a good job.”

Now, I know I am not politically correct.  I don’t give a damn.  Life isn’t politically correct.  Never has been, never will be.  And there is a reason.  Take the above girl as an example (I call her a girl because she is too immature to realize how her hair will affect her life.)  I don’t care about freedom of expression, freedom of speech, or freedom of whatever.  I don’t even care about discrimination.  If anyone walks into a job interview for a serious career, who in the world is going to take them seriously when they walk in with a bull ring through their nose, or hair that looks like it soaked in barn paint for a month?  They could have the nicest personality in the world, but will be passed over for someone that looks, well, professional.  If I walk into a bank, lawyer’s office, dentist, or other professional building, I would be mortified if I was greeted by someone who looks like they spent their childhood in a tattoo parlor.  Not that I have anything against tattoo parlors, but still, it does not project an image of professionalism.  Just like if I went to a tattoo parlor and the artist was clean shaven, no tats, and wore a three piece suit, I would be slightly put off.

I know you want to be an individual.  I understand your rage against the machine, your want to be special, and even your need to express yourself.  But there comes a limit to what is acceptable.  I wouldn't walk into in interview, prop my feet up on the desk, and mine for nose gold, only to wipe the treasures under the desk of the guy interviewing me.  Not that I have done that in the past.

And I can honestly say that it is not a local problem here.  It's everywhere.  In your stores, on your streets.  And it isn't going anywhere, no matter how much you hope and pray.

Although hair color aside, my favorite is the ones that mutilate themselves beyond all hope of ever competing in the workforce:  the tattoos that are impossible to hide and are almost profane.  I'm talking about the names of dead relatives tatted on your neck, the pics of your kids tatted on your chest, and bolts and spacers in your ear that just disgust and mortify polite society.

Just remember, that hair will fade, those tats will blend together into a mess of colors, but remember what Ron White said:  Stupid lasts forever.  


  1. My 16 year old niece is pierced and I want to wring her father's neck. Granted it happened when she was with her mother and his thinking is that as long as she isn't doing drugs she should express herself but she has the bull ring, two through each lip, an eyebrow, and both her ears are gauged to 1 3/4 inches. Those aren't going to close. Her ears will require surgery to fix. It makes me so sad. She is far to young to do things like that to herself and she has no idea about how it is going to impact her future.

  2. You aren't, by any chance, in your fifties are you? Because you sound like me. My daughter went through a "Goth" phase when she was a teenager. Rather than have the family implode, we made a deal. She could wear the black clothes and the white make up and the black lip stick. But nothing permanent. No tattoos, no piercings. I bought her some copies of Viking jewelry from Science magazine to seal the deal, the stuff fit right in. In due course she grew out of it and now she understands that you can be an individual but you have to do some conforming to societies norms to survive, especially today. She's be livid if she heard me say that but she'd know I was speaking truth.

  3. A,
    Believe it or not, I'm almost 35. My wife is 24. I took the long way to get to college. Had to travel all the wrong paths to find the right one.
    Every day, it seems, I become more and more like Harrison Ford in "The Mosquito Coast."

    Or I just figured if I act more like you, I'll become smart like you. Either way.


  4. Nice blog, Mudbug. I like your farm. Write.