Sweet Sixteen Comes After The F***-You Fifteen

(At my race track, we require anybody under the age of sixteen to have a parent present to sign a release waiver so they can drive. Anyone sixteen and older can sign themselves up. When signing up, the system creates a driver profile which is pretty much just a name and date of birth. While some are “smart” enough to bypass the necessary signature by putting in their DOB wrong so they’re older in the system, most are honest when filling out their profiles. After getting several kids all signed up without a problem, all sixteen and older, the last one fills his profile out and the system lets me know his age once he’s finished.)

Me: “So! After getting you all signed up, we’ve hit a little snag. You, [Customer], are fifteen, correct?”

Customer: “Yeah?”

Me: “All right. Unfortunately, because you’re not sixteen yet, I need your parent to come in and sign off on you to drive before I can let you ride. After that, you’re set to go whenever, but the first time I need that signature. I’m sorry.”

Customer: “Wait. What did I put as my birthday?”

Me: *knowing exactly where this is going* “[Date], 2001.”

Customer: “Oh. I meant to put 2002.”

Me: “Um… That would make you even younger, dude.”

(His friends start laughing a little, as does one of my coworkers, though he tries to hide it.)

Customer: “Oh. I didn’t mean 2002. I meant 2000.”

Me: “Seriously? You’re fifteen by your own admission. Just bring your parents in and you’ll be good to go.”

Customer: “F*** this. Let’s go guys.”

Coworker: *after they leave* “So… did that happen?”

Me: “Yup. Want to know the best part?”

Coworker: “What’s up?”

Me: “He turns sixteen in a week.”