Under(age) The Wrong Impression

(It’s my 18th birthday, and I’m super excited to legally buy my first pack of smokes. As soon as I get up, I go to our local gas station literally right down the street.)

Me: *walks up to counter* “Hey, may I have a pack of Camel Blues and the blue American Spirits?”

Employee: “ID please?”

(I take out my ID and hand it to the employee. She looks at my ID for a few seconds, and then looks at me incredulously.)

Employee: “I’m sorry; I can’t sell these to you.”

Me: “What? Why not?”

Employee: “I don’t know what time you were born.”

Me: “I was born at 1:59 in the morning this day 18 years ago. What does that have to do with anything?”

Employee: *shrugs* “Sorry. I can’t sell them to you.”

Me: “Ma’am, technically, in the eyes of the state, I turned 18 yesterday. It says specifically on my license, ‘under 18 until x/x/xxx.’ That is today. I am allowed to buy cigarettes.”

Employee: *shrugs again* “Sorry.”

Me: “Whatever.”

(I leaves the gas station and go up the street to another and buy my cigarettes successfully. The other cashier even wishes me a happy birthday!)