My brother and I are on a shopping trip together, which includes a stop at the local liquor store to pick up some sake. My brother is a few days short of his twenty-first birthday, and I’m twenty-four. After finding what I want, I come up to the checkout with my brother.

Cashier: “That’ll be [total], and I’ll need to see both of your IDs.”

Me: “Actually, my brother’s under twenty-one, but I’m twenty-four. This is for me.”

Cashier: “Uh, sorry, you both need to be twenty-one or over. You could be buying this for your underage brother. In fact, there’s a sign on the door that under-twenty-ones aren’t allowed in at all.”

Belatedly, I remember seeing the sign.

Me: “Well, crap.”

Brother: “So, out of all the drinks in the store my brother could try to buy for me, you think I’d go for sake?”

Cashier: “Unlikely, but still possible. But since you were honest about him being underage, I think you were telling the truth.”

He rings us up. As we leave the store, I turn to my brother.

Me: “You couldn’t have been born a week earlier?”

My boyfriend works as a waiter at a local restaurant and bar. At ten o’clock pm on weekends, the kitchen closes and the bar stays open for another four hours. At this time, they post the two guys at the front and back entrance to check ID, as you have to be twenty-one to get in for the night.

I am at home when my boyfriend gets off work around 9:30, and he calls to ask if I want to meet up with him at the bar since he ran into an old friend of ours. Ecstatic, I agree. 

I get there and sit down with them a little after ten, when the door guys were just posted. Beyond [Boyfriend] and [Friend], there are three other girls I don’t recognize, although [Boyfriend] mentions he knows everyone but one from various places. Let’s call her [Customer]. She ends up sitting at the end of the table, not drinking anything, and just texting on her phone, which doesn’t matter to me at the time.

About ten minutes into us catching up, joking around, and having a good time while talking about trying out a new bar a few blocks down, [Door Guy #2] comes up to our table and goes to the girl on her phone.

Door Guy #2: “Hey, are you [Customer]?”

Customer: “Yeah?”

[Door Guy #2] pulls out his phone.

Door Guy #2: “Okay, well, I just got these messages you just sent to my sister about being underage and sneaking in here, so, is this you?”

Customer: “Well, yeah, that’s me, but no, I didn’t send them.”

We’re all watching, confused at this, because he’s showing the messages to us, things like, “lol tell your husband [Door Guy #1] that I’m twenty-one,” and, “got in before the kitchen closed and now I’m in here underage!” She’d sent these to the wife of [Door Guy #1], who happened to be the sister of [Door Guy #2], knowing she was the wife of one of the guys checking ID at the door. We had no idea she was underage, and on top of it, she begins to now argue with him, raising her voice into a shriek. [Door Guy #2] is patient but firm.

Door Guy #2: “Okay, well it’s after kitchen close, and you have to be twenty-one to be in here.”

Customer: “But [Door Guy #1] let me in!”

Door Guy #2: “And I’m asking you to leave. You can’t be in here now if you’re under twenty-one.”

Customer: “But I turn twenty-one in eight days!”

Door Guy #2: “Okay, then come see me in eight days. You need to leave. I don’t care if the rest of you stay.”

All her friends chime in at this point about how they are going to another bar anyway and they can walk her to her car. She wants to argue some more, but they finally convince her to go. I decide I don’t want to deal with any of that, so I stay and hang out with another friend I met and cool down since I’m pretty embarrassed.

My boyfriend offers to walk them to the other bar, so he’s there with them when they go outside. She immediately turns on him since he works there.

Customer: “This is so stupid! They can’t kick me out like this!”

Boyfriend: “Yes, they can. You have to be twenty-one to be there after the restaurant closes, and you aren’t.”

Customer: “Yeah, but I got let in!”

Boyfriend: “Before it closed, when you still could have ordered food. But it’s 10:30 now; he had every right to kick you out.”

Customer: “I wasn’t even drinking!”

Boyfriend: “Yes, but you decided to stupidly text and brag about being in there underage. We could lose our liquor license for that if you had gotten a drink! If you hadn’t said anything, I’m sure they would have let you sit there with your friends for a while, but having text evidence like that is dumb.”

Customer: “I just don’t think it’s right that they kicked me out! I turn twenty-one in eight days! You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m calling the manager.”

She pulls out her phone right there and calls the bar manager to complain about being kicked out of a bar for being underage not once, but three times that night. Every time, the bar manager basically tells her to bugger off. Later in the night, we catch up with the Door Guys, who roll their eyes about the whole thing.

Door Guy #1: “If you actually sneak into a bar underage, why would you be stupid enough to text someone both the doormen are related to and brag about it?”

Door Guy #2: “I dunno, but she did do us a huge favor! [Bar Manager] is going to tell the owner that we had three separate calls tonight congratulating us on doing our jobs!”

Door Guy #1: “After this stunt, she might even get banned.”

Door Guy #2: “What a dumba**.”

I haven’t the slightest idea on if she actually got banned, but she did ruin it for everyone else and now her friends won’t go out with her after the scene she made. She can find another bar. Good riddance.

(It is New Year’s Eve. A teenage boy comes up to the register with a few packs of vodka mudshakes.)

Teen: “Just these, thanks.”

Me: “Have you got your ID?”

Teen: “Oh, yeah, it’s just in my car.”

Me: “Sure. I’ll keep these up here while you go and get it.”

Teen: “I don’t want to trouble you.”

Me: “It’s no trouble at all.”

(He wanders around near the entrance for a bit, where I see him talk to a bunch of other teenage boys. He then comes back in.)

Teen: “It looks like someone’s broken into my car and stolen everything, including my ID.”

Me: “Oh, my goodness! You should call the police.”

Teen: “Yeah, I’ll drive straight down to the station from here. So, how much for these?”

Me: “I still need to see your ID.”

Teen: “But someone stole it.”

Me: “I know, and you should call the police right now.”

Teen: “I’m thirty, you know.”

Me: “And as soon as you prove that, you can buy your… mudshakes.”

Teen: “Mudshakes. Right.”

(He leaves the store and goes back to talking with his group of friends. A second teenage boy then walks into the store and stands in one of the wine aisles, pulling faces and scratching his head. He grabs a few random bottles, and then approaches.)

Teen #2: “I would like to purchase these fine wines for my sophisticated dinner party with my work friends tonight.”

 Me: “ID, please.”

(He hands over his learner’s permit, revealing that he is 17.)

Teen #2: “They got my year of birth wrong; I’m really 23.”

Me: “I strongly doubt that.”

Teen #2: “Can I at least buy the mudshakes? They’re basically just chocolate milkshakes.”

Me: “No.”

(It is the day after Christmas, and everyone is SLAMMING our little game store. We have a line out the door most of the afternoon, and it is only just slowing down when my boss finally leaves. I’m working with a higher associate and a seasonal worker; I am a basic associate, and one of two girls on staff, the only girl in the store at the moment. A man comes up to my counter with a Tom Clancy game, which is a shooter game that is naturally rated M. It is the law in my state that we MUST card anyone who looks under 35 to 40 for rated-M games, and you MUST be 17 to buy.)

Me: “Good evening, sir! Is this all you need tonight?”

(The customer is a younger-looking fellow with a full beard, who looks to me to be college age. Kind of out of it, he nods to me.)

Customer: “Yes. Just that.”

Me: “All right! And do you have an ID?”

Customer: “No? Do I need to get my friend’s?” *gestures vaguely to the store*

Me: “That’ll work! I just need a valid ID.”

(The man calls his friend over, and I can immediately tell that he is not going to be a good customer. His eyes are red and his brow is immediately furrowed as he gestures at me.)

Friend: “Really? Are we really doing this? What kind of seventeen-year-old has a full beard and mustache?”

Me: *laughs* “Well, sir, I knew a kid in middle school with a full beard and mustache. That’s not really a gauge for me.”

Friend: “Come on. He’s obviously not seventeen.”

Me: “I still need to see an ID. Yours would work!”

Friend: *scowls* “Well. I’m really good friends with the store manager. Do you have to do this?”

(I know I’m dealing with a jerk. Our manager is well known for being a jerk, without meaning to, and also a stickler for rules. He even carded me once, despite having my birthdate on file. I know that my manager would never allow this to slide, so I steel myself and smile sweetly.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but it’s the law. I have to card you or it will cost me my job.”

Friend: *uncomfortably shifting* “Well, I guess we could go get a PSN card and buy it online?”

(He won’t. He is buying pre-owned, which is about $20 cheaper than digital.)

Me: *smiling sweetly* “Oh, I can’t stop you from doing that! There’s no problem with that. Would you li—“

Friend: “Well, fine. Thanks a lot.” *dripping with anger* “Let’s go get a card somewhere else.”

(The two turn to leave my register.)

Me: “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you today, sir.”

Customer: “It’s okay; you’re just doing your job.”

Friend: *muttering under his breath about, “Is this really necessary?” and, “He’s obviously not seventeen,” and whatnot*

(After they leave, the store is mostly clear for the first time in hours. I turn to the seasonal kid, who’s been watching with big eyes, as my manager helps the other customer who witnessed it all.)

Me: “If they say they’re good buddies with the store manager in a staff of five but don’t mention his name… they don’t actually know the store manager.”

(I am working at a local chain grocery store well known in the Midwest. I am working as a cashier when two gentlemen walk up with a huge bottle of alcohol. I greet them and ring up the bottle, when I get a screen asking for a date of birth to be entered in, which always happens when ringing up alcohol or cigarettes.)

Me: “May I see an ID, please?”

Customer #1: “Uh… I left it at home.”

Me: “Well, in order for me to sell you this alcohol I need to see an ID.”

Customer #1: “I forgot it… Could you just let this one slide?”

(I know that if I sell alcohol to underage people I will immediately lose my job.)

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry. I can’t do that, otherwise I would lose my job.”

Customer #1: *sighs* “Okay.” *he then proceeds to reach into his coat and hand me his ID even though he told me he had forgotten it*

(I finish ringing up his alcohol which was approximately $80, and he ended up being 22 years old. I’m still dumb-founded by this encounter today, and it was three years ago.)