It’s Not The Drinking That Will Kill You

(It is the early nineties when landlines in phone books are still a thing. A young man approaches my register with several cases of beer. I ask for his ID. He opens his wallet and I see that he has more than one ID. He hands me the driver’s license that says that he is 17.)

Me: “Sorry, sweetie, you have about four years before I can sell you this.”

Kid: “Oh, my bad. I gave you the wrong one.”

(He hands me a really bad fake ID that says he’s 22, but he forgets to take his real one back. I take note of his last name and address. After congratulating him on a nice try, I refuse the sale and he goes on his way. I look him up in the phone book and call his mother. I tell her that her son was attempting to buy alcohol with a fake ID. She assures me it will be dealt with. Fast forward thirty minutes: my little con artist’s dad is dragging him into the building by his ear.)

Dad: “Show me what you were trying to buy. And don’t lie, because I’m going to ask the cashier. And you’re going to get a beating for every can you tried to buy.”

(I had never felt so horrible for tattling in my whole life. I lied to the dad and said it was only a single 40-oz. This young man needed to be taught a lesson about underage drinking, but I was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive if I told the truth.)