My Friday night excitement is grocery shopping.
Yes, I know you're all jealous of the thrilling life I lead!
So, tonight I'm at Giant Eagle, in the checkout line with a cart full of groceries. Kevin and the kids are with me and have just walked through the line ahead of me. Clearly they're with me and haven't just wandered through the line with an empty cart.
I start unloading the groceries and I place a 12-pack of beer on the conveyor belt.
"Can I see your ID?" says the checkout girl. [I'm thinking she's not the brightest crayon in the box]. I don't look a day over 34. :)
Without even saying a word, I stop unloading the food, grab my purse, dig through to find my wallet, find my driver's license, and set it in front of her. I make it a point to NOT look at her -- that way she can't compare the photos - hey, she's making my job harder, I'm going to make her job harder. She studies it for a good 30 seconds, types in my birthdate and gives it back to me.
Oh. My. God.
I wanted to say this: "You're kidding right? Do I REALLY look 20 years old? I have a 4 1/2 year old and a 17 month old. If you think I'm 20 that means I probably started having kids when I was, oh, FIFTEEN!!!!!!!!! Get a clue. Just type in 00/00/00 like all the other checkout people and be done with it!"
I don't look 20. I don't look 21. Maybe I look 30. On a good today. I have gray hair (granted it's just been colored), the beginnings of crow's feet, a baby pouch that won't go away and 2 kids in tow.
And besides, I'm busy. I'm in a hurry. I have a fussy toddler and a preschooler who wants to go home to watch "Camp Rock". So, don't waste my time asking me for my ID. Just assume that I'm "of age" and move on.
Yes, I DO mean to vent about this. I probably should be flattered to be ID'd...but honestly when all I want to do is get out of Giant Eagle before the kids start screaming the last thing I need is some checkout chic asking for my ID.