I just got ID’d at Dan Murphy’s, rushing in on the way home from work to grab beers for my house sitter.
I’m 35 years old. And I’ll get right to it… they wouldn’t sell it to me despite my disbelief and frustration.
“It’s a compliment,” she says.
When you’re 35 and you get told you look 17, it’s not a compliment.
Especially when you’re already struggling to keep your life together.
“Actually, it’s a huge inconvenience you idiot cashier who perhaps forgot her glasses,” I wanted to say.
Because I was stoked not only that I remembered, but that I actually managed the time during a hectic week to quickly drop in and grab the beers in the first place. I had my dog in the car and wanted to make it home to watch the last set of the tennis.
And tomorrow I get on an aeroplane and my house sitter has to remain sober while doing me a huge favour.
Moral of the story… take ID everywhere until you drop dead because sometimes people leave their glasses at home.