Confident Clerk

I ran to the market to get a few supplies to last me until Friday, aka grocery day. Milk, bag of chips, hair spray, donuts. You know, all the really important stuff you can't live without. Jessie also needed cough medicine.

I went through the self check out lane. It means you are less likely to have to speak with people, and I'm shy. Remember?

I scanned the chips, donuts, and milk. Next was the cough syrup.

"Please show your ID to the attendant," the computer blared at me.

Blank stare.

Then I remembered that cough syrup is being used by some hoodlums to create a certain drug. I want to say it's meth, but I don't know for sure.

Anyway, I began fishing for my ID.

I didn't even get my wallet out before the attendant rushed up to save me the trouble.

"That's ok, miss. You're good to go."

Another blank stare.

Good to go??!

"What? I don't even look as though I could be in the neighborhood of 18?" I wanted to ask. I could have stopped him and asked what it was that brought him to this conclusion. But I didn't. He was young. And I am not - apparently. Good to know.

I came home and told Jessie about it in my best "can you believe it" voice. Her only response was to slowly twiddle a few gray hairs, suggesting they may have been the cause of said clerk's confidence in age determination.

Perhaps Miss Clairol and I should become acquainted.

Perhaps Confident Clerk will offer to walk me out to my car next time (they do that for old folk).

Does a Miss Clairol purchase require ID? Any drugs that are being manufactured from that? If so, do they make you look younger?

~Brenda <----middle aged, and learning to be ok with that