Those Damn Millennials – or – Rookie of the Year?

It was just rosary beads. More precisely, a tattoo of rosary beads, appearing as a bracelet adorning the subject’s wrist. There’s nothing revolutionary about that. For whatever reason, Catholic imagery has always offered a deep well of inspiration for tattoo artists and their clientele. Just Google “sacred heart tattoo” and see what comes up.

But what made it stand out was, well, how it stood out. Through just a touch of the right shading and a nuance of detail, an otherwise simple, even commonplace design came alive on the wrist with the illusion of a third dimension. The beads had shape—texture, even. They sat on the skin rather than just existing in it. If perception is truly reality, they became real, as useful for prayer as anything you could pick up from a church gift shop.

The image came to exist in my world thanks to an email from one of our account reps. She had received it from a friend, to whom it had been passed by the artist’s mother. Yes, the artist’s mother. It’s a different world than the one we used to know. And that thought is perhaps more of the thrust of this story than the artist we’re discussing.

I didn’t blink. “Yes,” I replied. “She’s definitely worthy of a story. Let’s run with this. Make the call and we’ll set up an interview.”

Here’s the thing. I still believe that, I do. Noemi Rubio-Dominguez, the artist behind the bracelet, is churning out some solid work, quality enough to stand up to just about any artist we’ve covered, and arguably enough to leave some of them in the dust. But if the term “wet behind the ears” were a literal one, her lobes would be drowning. On a scale of tattoo careers that’s measured in years, hers is yet to even register on the chart. She only finished her apprenticeship last June, something I didn’t find out until our interview. Maybe I should do better homework. But I’m glad I didn’t.

The traditional me would have balked. “Well, let’s talk in a couple of years,” I imagine that version of me saying. “Once you’ve paid your dues.” But what is tradition but formerly useful guidelines that have withered into meaningless tropes? No, it’s not normal to feature an artist whose career has yet to span a trip around the sun. But the best stories are never the stories of normal. They are the stories of divergence, and in that respect, Noemi’s is the ultimate story, albeit subtly.

At the not-so-ripe age of 27, Noemi is a glimpse of the future. She is the first artist with whom I’ve spoken who has existed solely within the new paradigm of body art, i.e., the post-Ink Masters era where the art has expanded beyond the sub-cultural cage foisted upon it by the aging patriarchy; i.e., the Instagram era where the well of education and inspiration stretches across the globe; i.e., the #MeToo era where misogyny and objectification are quickly falling out of fashion.

These thoughts saturate the whole of my brain as we speak. They seem to frame the soft edges of every word that she speaks. Having never experienced the former sludge of our years underground, she barely has a reference for the many struggles once thought synonymous with the job. She only knows the art, and she knows it well.

Here apprenticeship was nurturing one, devoid of the all-but-mandatory hazing of previous eras.

“Some of the old artists that would come in and visit would always tell me how easy I had it,” she tells me. “But at the end of the day, if the job is getting done, why does it matter whether I got treated like shit or not? I still did what I had to do.” She really did. The gentle delivery of her mentor’s instructions didn’t mean she got out of following them. She scrubbed plenty of toilets; she just didn’t have to use a toothbrush.

Her worst doses of sexism are from clueless men who assume by default that she’s “the front desk girl.” But ultimately, she gets the joy of seeing the befuddlement crawl across their faces as they realize their mistake. Ultimately, it becomes a point of pride.

She’s a child of the internet era. She isn’t glued to her phone as the stereotype suggests, but the sum of the world’s information is and always has been at her fingertips, which means she never had to become a pioneer. She began her career on the shoulders of the giants who preceded her. But that’s exactly what makes this interesting. Remember, the story is in the divergence and hers is a divergence from the elder generation’s expectations of her. In a sense, her story is a microcosm of that of her generation, the oft-maligned “millennials,” born at the pinnacle of technology, raised in a world of instant gratification and sheltered from the ugliness of the past.

Such an upbringing breeds entitlement, they tell us. It breeds weakness. Laziness.

Complacency. But I see none of that in her. I see self-discipline, based not in fear of failure, but in confidence of outcome. I see empathy, not engrained through religion, but cultivated through humanity. And I see infinite motivation, not out of a need to feed her ego, but a desire to repay the gifts she’s been given.

Her rapid acceleration at her craft makes a hell of a lot more sense once you get her back story, though her back story doesn’t completely make sense—she almost became a cop, going so far as to pursue a major in criminal justice.

“But I have a thing with authority,” she explains. “I want to live how I want. I don’t want people to tell me what to fucking do every day. That was a big issue with school in general, but even more so going into the police force . . . that’s something that I knew I couldn’t overcome.” Yeah, no shit. Fortunately, she saw that soon enough to avert disaster. She dropped out, took whatever job she had to in order to make ends meet and began pursuing her lifelong passion in art. She didn’t jump into tattooing right way, though.

“I didn’t think I was ready,” she tells me. “I wanted to go in knowing as much as I could artistically. So I kept working at my portraits and trying to get better at them.”

She still remembers when she got her first nudge toward visual art. It was the third grade. Somehow, her scribbles in art class made an impression on the teacher, who made time to take her aside and tell her that art was her gift. From there, she never stopped. Throughout high school and beyond, she focused on portrait work, a fact reflected in her penchant for realism. That penchant forms the backdrop to her greatest strengths as a tattoo artist, but simultaneously, she feels it also forms the barriers to her development. She admits to me that she’s a little afraid of traditional work. She loves it, admires it, even. But she feels that her natural inclination for detail pulls her from that realm and ultimately disappoints clients dreaming of a sesh with the next Sailor Jerry. But give her time; she’s only been out of her apprenticeship for ten months. Besides, the humility is refreshing. And she’s not saying she won’t do it. Like her portrait work, she’ll tackle it when she feels ready. Meanwhile, her work in realism could keep her booked up for a lifetime.

The Black Rose Studio in Mansfield Texas should fell a swell of pride to call her their protégé. They’ve obviously done an excellent job. But on the meta, we, the preceding generation should all feel a twinge of the stuff. It’s easy to listen to the talking heads and nod along as they naysay the incoming generation, harping on the supposed easy life they’ve been given and the sense of entitlement they’re said to have. And yes, they killed chain restaurants, but shouldn’t we be thanking them for that? Or do you actually miss the pairing of kitschy themes and mediocre food?

The fact is, they are the products of their reality and it’s a reality that we created. Through the lens of today’s media, that might make you feel that we are the collective Dr. Frankenstein. But wipe the cynicism from your eyes and take a second look. You might find a spark of pride in there. If that doesn’t work, just talk to Noemi.

Horror Tattoo Expo

Horror Tattoo Expo
Phoenix, Arizona, November 16-18, 2018

As if there aren’t enough oddballs in the tattoo community already, Body Art Expo took the freak factor to another level, transforming the Arizona State Fairgrounds pavilion into a giant haunted house with spooky lighting, fog machines and monsters and psychopaths walking the floor frightening the daylights out of people.

Body Art Expo has been producing trade shows for 26 years — everything from bridal fairs to computer expos. They entered the body art community in 2004, and changed the game for tattoo shows, taking them from local get-togethers to full-on major events. That first tattoo expo in Pomona, California was so popular that it drew more 40,000 in attendance and clogged traffic on the 10 Freeway. TV producers caught wind of the new tattoo craze, and it wasn’t long before soon-to-be celebrity artists were discovered at the events. The company now stages the three major tattoo expos throughout the year in Pomona, San Fransisco and Phoenix.

The Horror Tattoo Expo is their newest —- and most frightening event. And it did even happen during Halloween!

“Horror is a full on lifestyle that people are into horror 24/7. It’s a very enticing and dark industry and people love it. It makes sense to people and gives them purpose. Some people really like Christmas and others really love graveyards and tombstones,” says Creative Director Payton Anderson.

“Horror encompasses so much,” Anderson adds. “Within the tattoo community you’ve got these insane artists who are into amazing photorealism and you also have people rocking neo traditional or straight up traditional classic tattoos of tombstones and jack-o-lanterns.”

More than 350 tattoo and piercing artists representing 117 studios from the Southwest region and for that matter, all over the U.S., showcased their talents to more than 5,000 attendees during the three-day Horror Tattoo Expo.

As you’d expect, there we special horror-themed categories, including Best Classic Horror and Best Movie Character, mixed in with the daily tattoo contests. Artists taking home coveted guillotine trophies were Manuel Flowers (Next Level Tattoo), Thomas Salcido (IF Tattoo), Jesse Frausto (Knucklehead Tattoo), BABA (Vintage Tattoo Art Parlor), Smiley (Smiley Ink Tattoo) , and Don Don ( Ink Slinger Tattoo Parlor), Anthony Prince (Ritual Addictions), Tony Garcia (Living Canvas), Hollis Cantrell (Iconic Tattoo) and Bryan Craig (High Noon Tattoo).

Not every horrific thing in Phoenix was skin deep. Vendors included Hell Flower Soap Company, Rare Boutiques, Halloween Psycho Coffin Co., Bonefied Horror Company, Corpse Maker and Avid Artifice. Fans of the classic TV show, The Munsters got the chance to meet Eddie Munster (AKA actor Butch Patrick) and a rare up-close look at Drag-U-La, the custom drag strip race car from the episode, Hot Rod Herman. Performance troupe The Agents of Lust took the stage with spark-slinging, fire-breathing fetish feats. Rizzo Scarehouse added to the nightmare with a demented walk-thru attraction.

If you can say anything about the Horror Tattoo Expo, nobody was worried about needles when there were so many other scary things roaming about.

Classic PAINful Comedy: Tig Notaro

by Austin L. Ray

Tig Notaro delivers her jokes in a quintessential deadpan. She can discuss anything—from vomiting in her mouth to the inexplicable ubiquity of Taylor Dayne to the comically misunderstood threat of hotel molestation—without faltering from it, a feat that’s both impressive and almost unnerving in its consistency. It’s this delivery that carries Good One, her debut album on Secretly Canadian (it’s the company’s first comedy record, too), and clearly, she’s developed it over time. Like when she quit what she considers her worst job, temping after first moving to Los Angeles to attempt a comedy career.

“The boss was a ruthless producer, had zero personality or sense of humor and sucked the life out of me,” Notaro recalls. “I would sit, dead to the world, at my desk until finally the last day I was there, she asked what I do when I’m not temping. I was so excited to slowly turn to her with no expression on my face and say in a monotone voice, ‘I’m a comedian.’”

To hear Notaro tell it, she’s always been pretty laid back. Spending her youth in Mississippi and Texas, she eventually failed eighth grade twice, was moved up to ninth “out of pity” and failed that too, before dropping out altogether (“My only regret is not dropping out sooner,” she says). After that, she’d pursue music before ultimately doing stand up. Her ambition and lack thereof seems fitting in the context of her delivery, too—though she says she’s becoming more lively.

“Believe it or not, I feel like I’ve really come out of my shell as a performer,” Notaro says. “Simple things like allowing myself to smile, move, take the mic out of the stand, improv, etcetera. It’s been really freeing. I mean, I’m still not hurling my body across the stage, but who knows? I’m open.”

This easy-going, carefree attitude has earned her the respect and admiration of comedians like Sarah Silverman, Zach Galifianakis and many more, and she’s seen increasing work in recent years on Community, In the Motherhood and Last Comic Standing. Meanwhile, she’s got a pilot in the works with Logo, a weekly podcast (Professor Blastoff), another TV project, a short film, the list goes on. All of which is to say you’re going to be hearing a lot of Tig Notaro’s friendly deadpan soon. Unless you’re really close to her.

“I wouldn’t plan on having me as a friend until about April or May 2012,” she says. “I’d love to keep doing it all. I’ve been tremendously lucky so far with every aspect. Stand up is my number one, but I love writing, acting—all of it if they’ll have me.”

But then, everything changed, and that joke took on a bigger meaning.. “Hello, good evening, hello, I have cancer, how are you?” So begins Tig Notaro’s brave August 2012 set at Los Angeles’ Largo, which was later sold on Louis C.K.’s website as a 30-minute track called Live. It’s a stunning, singular moment in comedy, and one that, thankfully, had a happier follow-up just a couple months later.

Before long, she was back on the road and up to her old ways. A recent tour found her coaxing audiences to sing along to the Beatles and, at one especially memorable show, taking off her shirt.

“Ms. Notaro’s new act is not just about conquering illness,” wrote The New York Times. “It’s an ingenious expression of the commanding and persuasive power of art. She shows that comedy can not only transform tragedy into humor, but that it can also distract people from the most marketed and objectified image in popular culture: the naked female body. It can move a crowd into standing and cheering for three minutes, too.”

Iron & Wine and Calexico: He Lays in the Reins (2005)

PAINful Music, Classic Edition

This collaboration could’ve happened much earlier, before Sam Beam was the relatively well-known, Postal Service-covering, bearded face of the new folk. Before he had even so much as an album to his name, Beam considered inviting Calexico’s founding members, Joey Burns and John Convertino, to be his backing band on what would become his first record, 2002’s The Creek Drank the Cradle. As it turned out, Creek was comprised of some of Beam’s innumerable home recordings – without re-recording – and the result was an intimate set of songs that still ranks easily among the best of the songwriter’s copious output.

Eventually, despite Beam’s increased popularity – and to a lesser extent, Calexico’s – the musical partnership found its fruition. The result is the mini-album In the Reins, comprised of seven Beam originals accompanied by Calexico’s flourish. Although not totally in keeping with Beam’s past tendency to create EPs that are stronger than his full-lengths (put Woman King up against Our Endless Numbered Days and the former, smaller release clearly trumps the latter), In the Reins nevertheless provides a solid set of tunes with some interesting musical elements not typically present in Beam’s dynamic.

Anyone who has seen an Iron and Wine show knows Beam likes to mix things up – a reggae-tinged version of one song here, an electric rocker version of another there. Indeed, even on the Woman King EP, released in February, the distorted electric guitar of “Evening on the Ground (Lilith’s Song)” lent a dramatic and excellent feel to an already well-written track. Those who enjoy this variation will appreciate In the Reins even more.

There’s the deep baritone of Tucson, Arizona-based flamenco singer Salvador Duran (whom Beam asked to play on the album after seeing him perform in the lobby of the Hotel Congress) adding a festive element to opener “He Lays in the Reins.” There are the buoyant horns that explode from the already cheerful “History of Lovers.” On “Red Dust” – a song that, stripped down, would fit nicely on either of Beam’s first two proper albums – a sassy organ/harmonica combo adds minimalistic fills throughout.

This is what’s so wonderful about an artist such as Beam. When pondering the lack of prolificacy in indie rock, it’s easy to get a little down simply because so many great songwriters just aren’t producing that many songs. Bands such as the Fiery Furnaces, Guided by Voices (rest in peace, you drunken fools) and Iron and Wine should make serious music appreciators stop and be thankful for their respective deluges of material.

Mini-albums and EPs such as this one serve as great transition tools for obviously evolving artists who are interested in trying out new sounds (the aforementioned horns, organ). Beam is still the tender-hearted tear-jerker who can toss off wonderful lines such as “I met my wife at a party where I drank too much” (from “16 Maybe Less”), but it’s nice to know that he’s not afraid to stretch his musical wings and that he’s certainly not going to quit putting out scads of music anytime soon. We should all be grateful for that.

PAINMall: 2020 Vision

Your future is bright. We know because we just found a crystal ball and even better, we’ve figured out how to use it. All it took was a day’s worth of Youtube tutorials. Want to see for yourself? Just stare into the glowing orb . . .

It’s March of 2020. You roll out of bed around 8am feeling refreshed after a deep, restful night’s sleep, rich with vivid dreams of an Instagram post with a million shares. Yes, 8am. You’ve stepped up your game.

After guzzling down a tasty, hemp protein smoothie, you hop in your car, ready to face the day. Hemp protein smoothie? Yes. We did say that you stepped up your game, right? It doesn’t taste nearly as bad as you had assumed. Besides, your gut’s half gone and your shirt’s fitting a little tighter around the shoulders. By the way, kudos on the new wheels.

The new car still doesn’t fly, so we’re now officially five years behind the predictions of Back to the Future II. But at least you finally have XM, Bluetooth and functional AC. Plus, it’s a hybrid. You’re going green(ish). As you turn the engine over and roll backward out of your driveway, you catch a few snippets of President Pence’s speech from the night before. You can’t help but sigh and wonder if a Bible thumper is really any better than a Reality TV host.

After a solid thirty minutes at the gym, you roll up to the studio at 9:30 sharp, marvelling at how short the commute was and thanking the traffic gods for Elon Musk’s underground highway system. From the outside, the place is beautiful; spotless storefront windows that generously reveal the now-empty, gleaming chairs, as well as the canvasses lining the walls. You painted four of them yourself in the past six months. Where the hell did you even find the time? We’ll get to that momentarily.

As you walk into the shop, you pause just for a moment to take it all in. The space has never been cleaner. There’s not a speck of dust discernable to the naked eye and everything is in its right place. This, after the busiest year of your career. All five chairs have been booked three months in advance for months now without any sign of letting up, despite the four new street shops that popped up downtown at the tail end of 2019.

Your office manager is sitting behind the front desk, smiling between sips from his mug of matcha. He informs you that all the orders for the week are done, he’s found a great new source for organic, vegan ink (the demand for that hippie shit has been sharply rising), and just landed an amazing deal on a new ultrasonic.

“All of that before 10am?” you reply, incredulously. “How in the good fuck is that even possible?” you add, immediately stuffing a few crumpled bills into the swear jar.

“Remember when I got us registered on PAINMall?” he smiles. “You’re welcome. By the way, Ink Masters called. They want to know whether they should bring out the camera crew on Thursday or Friday.”
“Still too busy,” you answer with a sigh. “Tell them to push it back another week.”

Oh, yes, you think to yourself. PAINMall. When your assistant first brought it up, you weren’t even interested. You still remember the argument. We’re already on Amazon, Netflix, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, SnapChat, Twitter, Yelp, FourSquare . . . Hell, we even still have a MySpace account. MYSPACE. Why do I need another account on yet another website?

You’ve learned a lot since then. Lesson number one was that PAINMall isn’t just another website. It’s a platform. And not just any platform—it’s an all-in-one digital meet and greet for the industry that covers every aspect of your business and then some. It’s a web-based convention. It’s an e-commerce portal tailored specifically to your needs. It’s a constant source of information; what’s selling, what’s trending, what’s on special, what’s new—everything. Thanks to PAINMall, ordering no longer involves a stack of catalogs and a dozen or so phone calls. Savings are up because you’re always in the loop on the best deals. Those upgrades you’ve made have been a cinch. Why? Because you logged onto PAINMall and in minutes, made the choices that would have previously required hours of crawling Google. You’re on top of your game like a ninja and it’s all thanks to the PAINMall.

Life is good in 2020, and while you know that you and your team were the ultimate reason, you also know that it wouldn’t have been nearly as easy without your now-favorite digital platform. Signing up was your “Butterfly Effect” moment.

And trust us; we’ve seen the alternate. You want none of it. We’re not sure how it happened, but Bill O’Reilly is the lead anchor for NBC. Meanwhile, you’re driving an ’03 PT Cruiser, running a street shop with walls covered in flash art. You spend your days scrawling out tribal arm bands and endless variations of the word “princess” intended for the lower back while your piercer performs almost nothing but Prince Alberts on frat pledges desperate for acceptance. Also, your cellphone provider has signed an exclusive deal with BlackBerry and all they offer are the old models with the shitty, push-button keyboards. The Butterfly Effect is weird, man.

Don’t get stuck using a BlackBerry in 2020. Sign up for PAINMall instead and solidify your future.

(Disclaimer: we don’t really have a crystal ball and can’t really see your entire future. We have seen the future, though. How? By creating it. PAINMall is the future. Register now and find out for yourself.)

Working with a Hack

Dear Ms. Angel, I’m so upset I don’t even know what to do, so I hope you can give me some guidance. I work in a tattoo shop with one other piercer, “Jane” (not her real name). The truth is, though I hate to say it, Jane is a TOTAL HACK. The owner is a money guy, not a bodyart guy, and he is always busy and in a hurry and doesn’t seem to care. Jane is telling people to use Bactine for aftercare and to put Dial on a q-tip to remove crusties and not wash it off! She pierces with jewelry that is way too small or too big, even when we have the right size. Her piercing placement is sometimes way off—like really shallow daiths, and nostril piercings too low or far back. She’s inconsistent and obviously doesn’t care about doing a good job. But I do! Also, she does a lot of terrible things in terms of cross-contaminating our workspace. I would have to call her a menace. I wipe everything down every time I begin a shift because I don’t trust her filthy habits. But today was my last straw: One of her clients literally limped in today complaining of pain, and oh my god! She had come in for a hood piercing (vertical) and Jane actually pierced her hood to her clitoris. She pierced all the way through her clit to the underneath of it where her inner labia start. This poor victim said Jane used forceps, and that the piercing was the most painful thing she had ever been through in her whole life. She couldn’t even walk for 15 minutes and couldn’t stop crying. I was horrified but I didn’t say what a hack Jane is. I always try to be professional, and I know it would be bad for the studio to sh*t-talk a co-worker. I have tried to talk to Jane, but she is super defensive and a know it all and won’t listen to anything. I’ve tried talking to our boss but he’s too busy dealing with the tattoo artists and doesn’t seem to think piercing is important. To make things even worse, we’re both “the piercer with a lot of piercings and tattoos who wears glasses” so I am sure that people are mistaking us for each other, which makes me want to pull my hair out! And, of course, I hate to see people getting piercings that aren’t safe or done right. I love my job, but Jane is a nightmare. There aren’t a lot of other opportunities in my area or I would just quit and get a job somewhere else. What can I do? Sorry this is so long. Thank you, F.
Dear F., Wow, that does sound like a nightmare. Even if you do your best to sanitize the studio, when you work with someone who has a habit of cross-contaminating the premises, there’s greater potential for risk to your clients, and to you personally. You noted this as an “also,” after describing the other issues, but this is a major problem, since it isn’t only your mental health that’s at stake in this situation. I’ve been in body art businesses (and medical facilities) where I was afraid to touch anything when I saw how poorly hygiene protocols were handled. This is no joke in the age of hepatitis and antibiotic-resistant bacteria, which can live on inanimate surfaces for prolonged periods of time. Hepatitis B can survive outside the body for about a week(i), hep C for up to three weeks(ii), and MRSA (antibiotic-resistant staph) for over eight weeks(iii)! In spite of doing your best to keep things clean, I’d bet there are more pathogens in your work environment than there should be if she is a “filthy menace.” Your attempts to talk to Jane and your boss have not been rewarding, but I’m going advise you to give it another go with each of them, while trying some approaches that might improve the outcome. Because, short of living with the situation as it is (which doesn’t sound like a sustainable option), the only other choice is to quit. That would be a shame, because Jane would continue to be a danger without anybody even trying to improve her work habits—not to mention how your life would be affected by resigning. It is important to accept that you can’t control other people’s behavior. But, if you can manage to get through and actually connect with Jane and/or your boss, there’s some chance you could bring about constructive changes. Pick your battles and prioritize the areas of conflict to discuss. Trying to deal with everything at once is a recipe for failure. Difficult as it may be, you must keep your emotions in check when you attempt to have these talks. Focus on facts, performance, and events more than how things make you feel. This next suggestion may be surprising, but I’m going to advise that you try to be empathetic. Consider that Jane’s know-it-all attitude probably stems from having low self-confidence. She might be aware that she’s not competent and qualified, or feel inferior on some deeper level. Try to find some common ground. When we focus on things we agree on, this makes it easier to hear to what the other person has to say, and it connects us on an emotional level in a positive manner. Come up with a topic to discuss like a procedure you both do the same way. Then ask why she believes something else to be appropriate or true (her aftercare advice for example), inquire about her sources, and actually listen to what she has to say. Try to recognize Jane and her idea. Maybe acknowledge that those products used to be suggested for care. Then, present your own perspective with the relevant research and facts to support it. The more armed you are with knowledge and data the better. I know there’s not much documentation on what constitutes “industry standards” in our field. But materials from the Association of Professional Piercers such as the FAQ(iv), and publications including the Procedure Manual(v), and my book, The Piercing Bible(vi), are solid resources for showing Jane accepted practices and procedures. When it comes to your boss, try empathy again: think about the many tasks and responsibilities a business owner has to deal with. One more thing might feel like just too much. So, approach your boss gently, and be armed with some possible solutions (a more qualified employee to hire?), rather than leaving him feeling as though you are just dumping a problem on his shoulders. It might be helpful to show how Jane’s actions have negatively impacted the bottom line of the business via dissatisfied customers, poor reviews, and damage to the studio’s reputation. Hopefully you directed the injured woman to contact the owner, lodge a complaint, and request a refund? Then he could see that you’re not the only one with grievances. When it comes to safety, compromise isn’t appropriate. Your co-worker seriously injured a client and is endangering all who enter there. If you can’t work reasonably happily and safely under the existing conditions and nothing you do effects any change, then your only viable option is to move on. (i) (ii) (iii) (iv) (v) (vi)