Those Who Feared The Beard

I am working part-time in a drug store, running a register. I’m seventeen years old, but most people think I look significantly older — some have mistaken me for thirty! Having a full beard just adds to it.

This drug store is smack-dab in the middle of my school’s district, so all of the teenagers who shop there go to the same high school I do. I also see their parents, many of whom I recognize. Usually, I’ll say, “Oh, you’re what’s-his-name’s Mom/Dad,” and make brief small talk, and off they go.

One day, a lady comes in with a last name on the check that I recognize, but I can’t fully place it. When she shows me her ID, I see a small pic next to it with her and her two daughters, and I QUICKLY recognize them. One is in my graduating class, and the other is two years behind but has a class with me.

Me: “Oh, you’re [Classmate]’s mom! I thought you looked—”

She QUICKLY slams her checkbook shut with a horrified look on her face.

Classmate’s Mom: “How do you know my daughters?! They’re only high schoolers!”

It takes me a second to get over the initial shock of her reaction and another second for me to realize the reason; she’s wondering why this “old guy” is hanging around teenage girls, ESPECIALLY her daughter!

Me: “Uh, ma’am? I’m seventeen.”

We both had a good laugh about it. She learned not to jump to conclusions, and I learned I should SHAVE more often.