Christian Carden’s tattoos stretch from clavicle to throat, around his ears and up onto his head. He has a lotus flower printed on one side of his neck and a Japanese mask on the other; both stretch over his shoulders in a bed of waves, smoke, and fire. “I knew that people consider neck, face, and hand tattoos ‘job killers,’ and that's why I wanted them,” Carden says. “I never want to work at a bank again, and now I don’t have to worry about it.”
In a sputtering economy, highly visible tattoos like Carden's neck-and-head spread can mean the difference between a stint at the bank counter and a spot in the unemployment line. But in recent years, tattoo sales have failed to stall with the rest of the market. In many cities,they're actually thriving. And for some, opting for an above-the-shoulder tattoo signals a rejection of the recession rat race.
And the trouble extends far beyond the drive-through. When 31-year-old Giovanni Ramirez touched up his neck tattoos this summer, his parole officer reported him as a potential suspect in a high-profile beating at Los Angeles' Dodger Stadium—though Ramirez wasn't even at the game. In a police lineup, an eyewitness
picked Ramirez as the guy who put a San Francisco Giants fan in critical condition after the contentious match. But when defense attorneys
made efforts to control for Ramirez' prominent neck and face tattoos—wrapping lineup participants' necks in towels and applying faux face teardrop tattoos with a marker to match Ramirez' ink—witnesses failed to identify him as the assailant. "If you have a six photo lineup, and you see one guy with absolutely menacing tattoos—the Charles Manson tattoo on the forehead—you're more likely to believe that the person is culpable," says Jose Romero, Ramirez' defense attorney. "If you have a guy with a tattoo on the neck and the other five guys don't have any tattoos whatsoever, it's highly suggestive." Ramirez was later cleared of all charges.
The increased popularity of neck and face tattoos—and the continued stigma against them—has left tattoo artists to sew up the pieces. "When I'm approached to tattoo stuff in these 'job killer' zones, I always warn people of the risks, and try to talk them out of it," says Carden, who works at a parlor in Tempe, Arizona. "I love my very visible tattoos and think it was a great move to get them, but I'd hate to ruin an opportunity for someone else." In Des Moines, Iowa, 30-year tattooing veteran Sherry Sears won’t ink anyone above the shoulders. “I don’t think people should have tattoos on their necks and faces,” she says. “That cuts you out of just about every job you want to get. Employers are not big on that sort of thing.”
