I’m a gas station clerk. A young man comes to the counter and puts down his things, including a high school library book clearly stamped with “[Local High School] Library.” In other words, this kid is probably underage.

He has a non-alcoholic beverage and, after I ring him up, he decides to try to sneak one past me.

Young Man: “Can I also get [tobacco product]?”

Me: “Can I see your ID?”

He pretends to search his wallet for his identification and, after a moment, mutters:

Young Man: “I must have left it in my other wallet.”

I nod.

Me: “It happens to me all the time.”

A group of teenagers is in the theatre to see the show. Three of them approach the bar; two order Cokes and one orders a beer.

Me: “Sure, could I just see your ID for the beer?”

Boy: “Oh, I’m eighteen.”

Me: “Okay, I will still need to see your ID before I can give you the beer.”

He pulls down the neck of his T-shirt.

Boy: “But I have chest hair!”

The bar where I work is open to all ages until 5:30 pm when we become an eighteen-plus venue. This occurs at 6:30 pm after all the signs have been put out stating that no minors are allowed access. A customer walks in carrying a small baby and her husband is pushing a pram. I am the manager of the bar. I’m twenty-two and female but I’m quite short and often get mistaken for being much younger.

Me: “Sorry, but you can’t have a child in here after 5:30.”

Customer: “I’m breastfeeding.”

Me: “That’s lovely, but unfortunately, club policy is that no minors are allowed in this area after 5:30 pm.”

Customer: *Suddenly irate* “You can’t discriminate against a breastfeeding mother. It’s against the law.”

Me: “I’m not discriminating against you. It’s also against the law to allow a minor in this area after 5:30 pm.”

Customer: “I demand to speak to the manager! This is discrimination! I’ll have your job!”

Me: “I am the manager, and unfortunately, you still can’t have a minor in here.”

Customer: “I want to speak to a real manager, not a little girl.”

Me: “You can talk to the general manager of the other sections of the club. He will tell you that for this area, you need to speak to me but that the 5:30 pm rule still applies.”

Customer: *Finally leaving, still screaming* “I’ll have your job! You can’t discriminate against breastfeeding mothers! I’m calling the police and leaving a terrible review of this place! I hope you enjoy your fines for breaking the law!”

She screamed at other entering customers that we were all breaking the law and discriminating against her all the way out. She never called the police or left a review, but I told all the other staff about this incident and now it’s a little inside joke between us all that breastfeeding babies don’t count as minors.

We are an all-ages venue until 5:30 pm when we become an over-eighteen area. This occurs at 9:00 pm after all our “No minors past this point” signs are out. A man walks in with his two-year-old daughter.

Me: “Sorry, sir, this area is strictly eighteen and up after 5:30 pm.”

Man: “But she’s two.”

Me: “Yes, that means she can’t be in here after 5:30 pm. She’s a minor.”

Man: “But she’s two; she’s not a minor. Minors are people aged fourteen to seventeen, not two.”

Me: “Minors are anyone aged less than eighteen years.”

Man: *Very condescendingly* “No, little girl, minors are people aged fourteen to seventeen. She can be in here after 5:30 pm because she’s not. A. Minor.”

I point to a sign above the bar that states that no one under eighteen can be in the venue after 5:30 pm.

Man: “I’ll leave, but I’ll be telling your bosses that they need to teach their staff what a minor is! I can’t believe you think that my two-year-old is a minor! How stupid can you be?”

In Tennessee, the law states that bars are able to allow smoking inside AS LONG AS they are twenty-one-and-up only establishments. I am working in such a bar as a server, during lunchtime, just after opening at 11:00 am. A woman comes in with her child aged one or two years old.

Me: *To my coworker* “Want me to tell her? She looks like she’s heading to my section anyway.”

Coworker: “Nah, I got it.”

My coworker approaches the lady.

Coworker: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but this is a twenty-one-and-up bar since people are smoking in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Customer: “But I am twenty-one! I just want lunch!”

Coworker: “Maybe, but she isn’t.” *Motioning towards the child*

Customer: “That’s just stupid! I come here all the time with her!

Coworker: “Not to be disrespectful, but none of my coworkers would allow a child inside and risk us all losing our jobs. I’m asking you to leave, now.”

Customer: “Useless b****. I’m never f****** coming here again!”

She storms out, squealing tires and almost hitting a car as she leaves.

Me: *To my coworker* “Well, that was… interesting.”

Coworker: “Yeah. I’ve only seen her once before. She tried to order alcohol while heavily pregnant. I told her I wasn’t comfortable with that and she said the same thing to me.”

By the way, there was a HUGE sign on our door, at eye level, that says, “Patrons must be 21 or older and able to show ID to enter.” So much for reading, I guess?