Kimmer recently stopped into the liquor store to replenish the party cupboard supplies. This weekend will be my…29th birthday…again… (shut up, it’s my birthday I can wish for anything I want).
The clerk points me in the correct direction for the items I require and as I am setting the bottles on the counter, the clerk asks me for my ID. I laugh out loud, “Oh, thanks, that’s very sweet of you”, I say and ignore the request. He states that he cannot sell me anything until he sees my ID. Ok, I get it. Nowadays clerks get fired if they sell to anyone underage so it’s just easier to always ask for ID no matter what. I get it. I flop open my wallet to expose my Driver’s License and the clerk very loudly yells, “Holy Shit!” (I am not kidding. He yelled it…loudly.)
Thank God I was the only person in the store at the time while I buried my face in my hands. “I really think that was uncalled for”, I said. But he continued, “Are you on drugs?”
Now I am hoping that what he really meant was not necessarily narcotics, but something similar to Botox or the like.
Thankfully, he followed up with, “I just can’t believe you are my contemporary and you look that good.”
Phew! I was incredibly worried there for a minute. I had no idea which way this was going to go. I thanked him for the nice birthday present and as I walked out the door he screamed, “Happy Birthday!”