Really Wanted That To Be Fake

(I’m picking up vodka for a party. I’m very tired from working some long, exhausting shifts for the past week. I go to the register and set the bottle on the counter.)

Cashier: “Sorry, you have to be 21.”

Me: “I know.”

Cashier: “How old are you?”

(I hand over my ID. The cashier looks at it and smirks.)

Cashier: “So, how old are you?”

Me: “I’m 22. I have my passport, as well, if you need to see it.”

Cashier: “Oh, that won’t be needed.”

(He scans it through an ID reader. It beeps back that it read it, it’s real, and I’m old enough. He stops and scans it again. Same result. He practically throws it back at me.)

Cashier: “It’s [amount].”

(I get that they need to be sure, but don’t assume everyone who looks 20 is underage.)