No ID, But Sweet Ink, Man
I’m filling in at a sister store in a neighboring college town. The staff has gotten lax with following certain laws, which is actually the reason why it is necessary for me to fill in. I go through variations on this theme all night, but this is one of the weirdest encounters.
Customer: “Hey, can I get a pack of cigars?”
Me: “Sure. ID, please?”
Customer: “I left it at home. Maaan, you’re gonna make me walk all the way home to get my ID?”
Me: “Unfortunately, yes. But we’re open twenty-four hours, so we’ll be here.”
Customer: “Man, what? I come here like three times a day!”
Me: “Have you ever seen me before?”
Customer: “No, you must be new. Get me somebody else who knows what they’re doing.”
Me: “Sorry, I’m the only person here right now. And if you’ve never seen me before, then how would I know who you are?”
The customer is silent for a split second, and he then makes a fist and raises it… to show me his forearm.
Customer: “But look at my tattoo! It says 1999!”
Me: “That’s very nice, but it’s not a valid ID. I’ll see you in a bit!”
His extra walk gave him time to cool off, and he was almost pleasant when he actually did return later with his ID.