Must usually work the nightshift.

So...

I went on a grocery run this morning. Just snagging the staples--tortellini, steak, NyQuil, milk, rootbeer...

There was only one lane open, but there were only about four other shoppers in the store, so meh, no worries. When space came free, I unloaded my cart of sundries onto the conveyor belt.

The cashier (lovely woman; her own face, with large, sparkling eyes and the richest auburn hair. I wanted to ask the proper name of the colour and where she had it done, but I figured some folk get touchy about things like that and skipped it.) smiled me a hello and I answered, made polite small chat.

She scans the milk. She scans the root beer. She scans the tortellini... and eyes the rootbeer...

"Say, honey, can I see your ID for a second?"
"No sweat," says I. My wallet's out anyhow to run ye olde carde through the little machine thing, so I flip it round to show her my driver's license.

She eyes the card.
Eyes me.
Eyes the rootbeer.
Dubiously.
Goes back to scanning things.

...
?

"So out of curiosity, ma'am, what prompted that?"
"Well you just never know. Some people don't look their age, and if I sell 'em something I shouldn't've, I can go to jail, you know. Ain't anything personal."
"Nono, of course. Of course. Thank you."
"You have a nice day, honey."
"You too."


...
~blink~
Didn't have the heart to tell her that stuff's not even caffeinated, let alone alcoholic.
Not quite sure whether I should be pleased that I look 19 and like a truant, but hey.
~headshake, chuckle~