On tattoos and trouble

This first week of the year is not being kind to me. Apart from the obvious working too much laced with migraines and shit, I lost my credit card on the subway today. Luckily I got G to call my bank and fix it for me, but now I have to order a new card and be penniless all weekend. Not that it will matter since Saturday will be spent at work and Sunday most likely spent in a coma, but it was just another shit thing to add to all the shit that's been going down lately. I'm so fed up, you can't imagine.

At work I found out that Karate Husband has (once again) fired my favorite dish washer man, replacing him with a woman so slow she'd be moving backwards if she were any slower. This happened once before when he'd forgotten to close the door of Karate Husband's car, but it ended with him being back within a week and I'm hoping for the same result again. Karate Husband is the way he is, making overly rash decisions and then changing his mind, which makes me wonder how he's managed to run the restaurant for these 20+ years. He's charming when he wants to be, I guess. He's always nice to me, but then again I'm always on time and I look busy while working.

Speaking of Karate Husband, since he fired the dish washer man who normally prepares the salmon, he had to come in and do it himself today. While working, he was wearing a t-shirt, and poking out from under one of the sleeves was a tattoo! Imagine my surprise, since this is majorly frowned upon in Japan as it's strongly linked to the yakuza. A thousand questions surfaced in my mind in an instant. What does it look like? How big us it? From what I could see, it was a half sleeve at least, but only visible on one arm. Did he get it because he thought it was cool? Or was Karate Husband part of the yakuza when he was young? Or when he was old even? Is it a karate thing? I felt I had to stop my thoughts there, since wondering what my boss, old enough to be my grandfather, looks like with his shirt off feels uncomfortably perverted.