My, you’re a persistent one!
Yes, I see you waving your ID in my face. I don’t need to see it. Because whether or not you’re of legal age, I’m not going to sell to you.
You know why? Because you were in here just fifteen scant minutes ago with a group of individuals, none of whom could produce a valid ID when I asked for them. You remember that encounter, don’t you? You argued that YOU were the one buying the beer; therefore I didn’t need to see the others’ IDs. And when that rather creative interpretation of the law failed to convince me, you had the brilliant idea to send the others outside, reasoning that if they were no longer in my direct sight, I would somehow forget that they existed.
And when THAT failed to produce the desired result, you became a belligerent ass, said a bunch of unkind things, including a claim of incest between myself and my mother, AND a suggestion that is anatomically improbable, and then you and little posse piled back into your battered old Caprice Classic and tore off in impotent rage.
Oh, and just an observation here: throwing it into gear with the engine revved up like that in order to generate as much tire smoke as possible probably isn’t the best way to treat a car, especially one that old. Also, a tantrum like that just screams ‘teenager’. Next time I see you and your ID, I’m going to examine that card VERY closely, you can just bet.
Anyway, here you are again, actually pretending it WASN’T you in the store earlier. Yes, you’re alone this time, but you are wearing the very same clothes. So guess what? I’m hip to your plan. I might be old, but contrary to your theory, senility hasn’t set in juuuuuuust yet.
You’re absolutely right – I CAN’T prove you’re buying for minors. But then again, I don’t NEED to prove it. I actually have a very broad authority to tell you ‘no’, and for a wide variety of reasons. And if there is so much as a shadow of an inkling of a suspicion that’s something’s amiss, you’re going to be shown the door.
I’m sorry you don’t like my answer; nonetheless, your opinion does not change it.
You’re free, of course, to whine to whichever ‘authority’ you see fit about how inconvenient it was that I followed the rules. If you like, I'd be happy to summon the authorities for you. I'm sure they'd be very interested in seeing that ID of yours.
I believe you already know where the door is.
Yes, I see you waving your ID in my face. I don’t need to see it. Because whether or not you’re of legal age, I’m not going to sell to you.
You know why? Because you were in here just fifteen scant minutes ago with a group of individuals, none of whom could produce a valid ID when I asked for them. You remember that encounter, don’t you? You argued that YOU were the one buying the beer; therefore I didn’t need to see the others’ IDs. And when that rather creative interpretation of the law failed to convince me, you had the brilliant idea to send the others outside, reasoning that if they were no longer in my direct sight, I would somehow forget that they existed.
And when THAT failed to produce the desired result, you became a belligerent ass, said a bunch of unkind things, including a claim of incest between myself and my mother, AND a suggestion that is anatomically improbable, and then you and little posse piled back into your battered old Caprice Classic and tore off in impotent rage.
Oh, and just an observation here: throwing it into gear with the engine revved up like that in order to generate as much tire smoke as possible probably isn’t the best way to treat a car, especially one that old. Also, a tantrum like that just screams ‘teenager’. Next time I see you and your ID, I’m going to examine that card VERY closely, you can just bet.
Anyway, here you are again, actually pretending it WASN’T you in the store earlier. Yes, you’re alone this time, but you are wearing the very same clothes. So guess what? I’m hip to your plan. I might be old, but contrary to your theory, senility hasn’t set in juuuuuuust yet.
You’re absolutely right – I CAN’T prove you’re buying for minors. But then again, I don’t NEED to prove it. I actually have a very broad authority to tell you ‘no’, and for a wide variety of reasons. And if there is so much as a shadow of an inkling of a suspicion that’s something’s amiss, you’re going to be shown the door.
I’m sorry you don’t like my answer; nonetheless, your opinion does not change it.
You’re free, of course, to whine to whichever ‘authority’ you see fit about how inconvenient it was that I followed the rules. If you like, I'd be happy to summon the authorities for you. I'm sure they'd be very interested in seeing that ID of yours.
I believe you already know where the door is.
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