It's not a Tattoo?

So Mr. H., returning from parts of the world I can only dream about, left a pile of little pressies on my desk. I did wonder about the one in the heart-shaped tin (yes,he missed me!) until I realised it came from office junior who is trying to get my job. Mr. H. left me my favourite sweets. Four large bags of them. Good job they are non-fattening as am since still not convinced I have lost post-Christmas weight (yes, I know it is August). And an odd-looking object which I seized upon and exclaimed "A tattoo!" Thus inadvertently revealing an inner fantasy of mine. "No," explains Mr. H. patiently, "it is a stamp and this is how it works....." At least he stood close to me while he showed me how to ink the darn thing.