Losing The Cashier Lottery

(My wife has taken our three-year-old daughter out shopping. She decides to pick up a scratch card. As with most things we do, we encourage our daughter to recognise letters, number, shapes etc.)

Wife: “What number should we get?”

Daughter: “Erm, the pink one.”

Wife: “Okay, but what number is it?”

Daughter: “Number four.”

Wife: “Well done!” *to Cashier* “A number four, please.”

Cashier: “I can’t serve you.”

Wife: “Sorry, why?”

Cashier:  She isn’t old enough.

Wife: “What? She was just picking the number. The card is for me.”

Cashier: “Still can’t serve you.”

Wife: “Just get your manager for me, please.”

(The manager turns up and speaks to the cashier quietly before turning to my wife.)

Manager: *quizzically* “You wanted to buy a scratch card for your daughter?”

Wife: “No, she just picked the number; it is for me. She’s three. She wouldn’t even know if she won or not and probably couldn’t scratch the card herself.”

Manager: *sighing deeply* “I’m so sorry about this, miss; I will serve you myself.”

(Just as they were leaving I overhear…)

Manager: “What are you playing at?”

Cashier: “You told me to ask for ID.”

Manager: “She was clearly buying it for herself.”

Cashier: “But, but—”

Manager: “Just go on your break. I’ll deal with you later.”