Missing A Major Minor Point, Part 2

| Working | March 19, 2014

(My two daughters and I stop for lunch at a restaurant that serves alcohol. I’m 36 years old; my girls are 10 and 14.)

Server: “Hi, welcome to [Restaurant]. Can I start you guys off with something to drink?”

Me: “Yeah, that’d be great. I’ll have a beer, and those two will have a couple of sodas.”

Server: “Nope. Sorry, you kids need to leave. You can’t be in here.”

Me: “Well, they’re with me. They should be fine.”

Server: “I need to see everybody’s ID!”

(I show her my driver’s license.)

Server: “Now you two. Show me some ID!”

Me: “Miss, they’re 10 and 14. They’re not trying to buy alcohol, and they’re with me. They don’t have, and don’t need, ID.”

Server: “Well, YOU can stay, but if you’re going to be drinking alcohol, they need to leave.”

Me: “Wait. What? Why on earth would my kids need to leave just because I’d like to have a beer with lunch? Look, I’ll just have a soda.”

Server: *rolls eyes* “Ugh! Because it’s against the law for me to serve alcohol to you when there are kids with you, even if you are 21, and what do you mean by ‘your kids’?”

Me: “I mean they’re my kids: my daughters. I’m their dad.”

Server: “No, they’re not. You’re too young to have kids.” *walks away*

Me: “You know what, girls? Let’s get out of here and go someplace else.”

(Just as we’re getting up to leave the manager comes storming up to us.)

Manager: “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I don’t know what you three think you’re trying to pull, but I want everybody to get their IDs out. NOW!”

(At this point we should just leave, but I’m irritated that this guy thinks we’re, in his words, ‘trying to pull something.’)

Me: “Look, here’s my ID and I already explained to your server that my kids are 10 and 14 years old. They don’t have ID. I’m not sure I understand why they can’t be in here.”

Manager: “They can’t be in here without parental supervision. Are you telling me they’re your kids?”

Me: “Yes. I’ve been saying that all along.”

Manager: “Your biological kids?”

Me: “Seriously? Yes, they’re my biological kids”

Manager: *begrudgingly* “Well, I guess you guys can stay.”

(At this point the server is standing there with our drinks. Surprisingly, she brought me the beer.)

Server: “I guess I can let you have this now. Just make sure you keep it away from those two kids.”

 

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