Okay, those of us who work in supermarkets, convenience stores, bars, restaurants, and other venues that either sell or serve alcohol have heard the wide range of tactics used by customers to circumvent ID laws. But with my considerable experience, I am astounded to report one I haven't encountered until last night. But (spoiler alert), it was actually rather disappointing.
Here's the rundown. A young woman (who looked to be about 15 or 16 years old) felt that a photo on her cell of her (alleged) ID was the same as actual ID. “Look,” she said, “It has my picture and date of birth and everything.”
No dice, princess.
Why NOT?, she demanded. “A picture's just as good as the real thing.”
Because NO IT ISN'T.
After a minute or two of back-and-forth, it finally occurs to her that I'm not going to back down on this. So she finally leaves, but not before firing off a (not really) ominous “You'll regret this.”
Okay, SERIOUSLY? “I'll regret this?” No specific threats of unemployment, vicious assault, or crippling lawsuit? No explicit suggestions of anatomically-improbable actions or colorful descriptions of my lineage or orientation? No dire implications of enlisting parental involvement? No promises... err, 'threats' of never shopping here again? No tantrum? Not even a little one? C'mon, you ain't even TRYING.
I.... I don't know what to do. I feel incomplete, like I've been deprived of something elemental and essential. Such an intriguing start, but such a lackluster finish. Why, it's almost like....
Oh, god. I'm dead, aren't I?
Here's the rundown. A young woman (who looked to be about 15 or 16 years old) felt that a photo on her cell of her (alleged) ID was the same as actual ID. “Look,” she said, “It has my picture and date of birth and everything.”
No dice, princess.
Why NOT?, she demanded. “A picture's just as good as the real thing.”
Because NO IT ISN'T.
After a minute or two of back-and-forth, it finally occurs to her that I'm not going to back down on this. So she finally leaves, but not before firing off a (not really) ominous “You'll regret this.”
Okay, SERIOUSLY? “I'll regret this?” No specific threats of unemployment, vicious assault, or crippling lawsuit? No explicit suggestions of anatomically-improbable actions or colorful descriptions of my lineage or orientation? No dire implications of enlisting parental involvement? No promises... err, 'threats' of never shopping here again? No tantrum? Not even a little one? C'mon, you ain't even TRYING.
I.... I don't know what to do. I feel incomplete, like I've been deprived of something elemental and essential. Such an intriguing start, but such a lackluster finish. Why, it's almost like....
Oh, god. I'm dead, aren't I?
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