Customer: “Hi, I want 20 Marlboros.”

Me: “Do you have any ID at all?”

(The customer lifts his right sleeve on his t-shirt to reveal a tattoo of a date.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t accept that.”

Customer: “Why not? That’s my f***ing date of birth! You think I‚Äôd just get some random date done on my arm?”

Me: “We need photo ID, sir, like a driver’s license or a passport.”

(The customer points at his face.)

Me: “Umm…”