Inconvenience: Barely Illegal
To buy cigarettes, you must be at least eighteen years old. To buy beer or other assorted alcoholic beverages, you must be twenty-one. You think that would be common sense, and that people would understand that there’s no way around it. If you think that, well, you would be fairly wrong.
For me, the Bottom Line is that if you’re not of age, then you aren’t getting anything from me. I find it rather insulting that people who I don’t even know would think that I would be this nice guy who is willing to break the law so they can get a pack of smokes or a case of beer. It’s even more insulting when people who think they know me get all pissed off because I won’t do it for them. The one thing that never ceases to amaze me though is the lengths that some will say they’d go to just for some Pabst Blue Ribbon.
One of the best examples of the first case just happened to me recently. It was just me alone on another boring close shift, so I wasn’t doing shit and killing time by dividing large numbers in my head. Around 10:30, a car comes flying into the lot, so the first thing that comes in my head is of course, retards. On closer inspection, the car is packed with people that would still put a boot on if they knew it had piss in it.
The two that must have been designated the “oldest looking” walked in and began to browse. Just by looking at them I could tell they were nowhere near being twenty-one. After taking ten minutes of my life away, they finally began to approach the beer cooler. They spent about seven minutes just standing there in front of it and occasionally whispered to each other and kept glancing back at me. I then just started staring at them. It’s so much fun to do that because people start thinking that I’m some kind of weirdo, but it’s fine for them to do it to me. At last they decide to address me.
-“How much is a case of beer?”
--“How much does the sign that you’re looking right at say it is?”
-“Wha..oh.”
They then proceed to grab a case of beer out of the cooler, walk up, and put it on the counter
--“…”
-“So how much is it?”
--“No.”
-“No what?”
--“No.”
-“What the fuck are you talking about?”
--“You’re not buying that beer.”
-“Why not dude?”
--You have to be twenty-one to buy it, and you sure as Hell are not twenty-one.”
-“Why would I try to buy beer if I’m not twenty-one?”
--“Because you’re retarded, but let’s pretend that I’m stupid and let me see your ID.”
He then got out “his” ID. The picture on it did resemble him, but not enough for me
--“What’s your driver’s license number?”
He then told me, and it did match what was on the ID. This made me a tad bit suspicious because hardly anyone actually knows what their number is. I then asked him something that any moron should know
--“What’s your address?”
-“My what?”
--“Your address. What is your address that is on your ID?”
He then turns and looks at Tweedle Dipshit and gets a blank slightly shocked look back
-“Uh…”
--“Thought so. Guess what, no beer for you, and this is mine now.”
I take the ID and put it in my pocket
-“What the fuck!? I need that back, it’s not even mine!”
--“No shit it’s not yours. I don’t care. Besides, why would you need it since like you said, it’s someone else’s? If this person wants it back, then they can come and get it from me.”
-“Man, this is bullshit.”
--“That’s what I’m thinking about you believing I would be dumb enough to sell you beer. Now make like a screen door and fuck off, bitch.”
Both of them stood and stared at me for a minute, probably trying to figure out what the Hell I just said. At last they must get it through their heads that they aren’t going to get anything and walk outside.
Round 2
After stocking the cooler and some other small things I get done, the same car pulls up. With the thought of these guys trying it a second time, I slam my head on the counter. Now, I think people are generally stupid, but these two are on a whole other level from most people it would seem. However, this time instead of the brain trust that got out of the car before, it’s two cute girls. I started laughing so bad I almost started crying. Then I remembered that I can’t cry and just kept laughing. I worked up a mental picture of these guys all sitting around after they left the first time, and it went something like this…
-“God that guy was a dick.”
--“Yeah, I know. How dare he outsmart us with his superior clerk knowledge!”
-“DAMN YOU, RICHARDS!”
--“What the fuck was that?”
-“I don’t know. Wait, I’ve got it. Let’s have the girls go in and buy the beer. They have boobs, and surely he will be overpowered by said boobs!”
--“And if the boobs don’t get him, the vaginas will!”
-“Brilliant~!”
--BWHAHAHAHA!
…aaaaaaaand scene.
Anyway, they come walking up to the door and I’m still laughing. They looked even younger than the guys for Christ’s sake. I managed to stifle my giggling just as they walked in the door. So they came inside and it was a virtual copy of what the two guys did at first; just a lot of wandering around the store and glaring back at me. Any other time I would have stopped them as soon as they came in the door, but I was fairly bored, and I figured this was just as good as any other way to kill some time. They found their way to the beer cooler, stood there for about five minutes, and then they walked up to the counter, but without beer…?
-“Hi!”
--“Uh..hi?”
-“So how are you?”
--“Decent at best…what do you want?”
-“We want to buy some beer.”
--“I want to be a Pepper too, but right now neither of us has any chance of getting what we want.”
-“Aaaw, c’mon…we’ll be really grateful if you sell it to us.”
--“…oh Jebus God…”
-“What?”
--“How can I explain this to you any better? Do I need to take off my boots and use sock puppets? You are not going to buy beer from me.”
-“What do we have do to get beer from you?”
Oh the things that were going through my head right then…
--“Can you magically age by about…five years?”
-“No…”
--“Can you create a working model of cold fusion?”
-“What?”
--“Can you put your ankles behind your head?”
-“No…”
--“Then you have nothing to offer me. Our business is done.”
-“Look, do you know who I am?”
--“No, but I suppose you’re going to tell me who your parents are and I should be impressed, which I won’t be. Do you know who I am?”
-“No.”
--“I AM ZIM~!”
-“…what?”
--“Huh?”
-“Wha?”
--“Okay, shut up. While this has been…fun so far, I’m through with it. Leave now.”
And now comes the point I figured would come when they came in…
-“We’ll show you our boobs if-“
--“Just stop there. Do you know how fucking sad that is? I’m not sure which is worse; you actually willing to do that, or you thinking that would work with me. Just by looking now I can safely say that yours aren’t me losing my job and the court costs that would come with it. So once again, leave. NOW.
They then just stood there staring at me like I was going to cave in and say “Okay, show me your tits and the beer is yours,” but I sure as shit wasn’t going to do that. They then finally decided that they weren’t getting anything and started walking to the door when one of them turned around.
-“You’re a fucking asshole!”
--“…and that’s common knowledge. Any other great epiphanies that you would like to say? No? Okay, then shut the fuck up, get the fuck out, move the fuck on, and fuck the fuck off.”
-“Blow me.”
--“I thought that was the next thing you were going to offer me, and either way…nah.”
-“Screw this, we’re leaving.”
I then flip them off
--“A single, salt-filled tear rolls down my cheek in sorrow that you are. Buh bye.”
They start to go out the door, but I have to do the usual song and dance for the store
--"Thank you, and be sure to come again!"
I have yet to see them again.
Y'know, I don't know which is more screwed up; the fact that I can do things like that and I still have a job, or the fact that I have to do things like that almost as part of my job. I never asked anyone to do anything like that for me, but that was mainly on the basis that I would never do that for someone else. These guys didn't even know me from Adam, and they expect me to break the law and put my job in jeoprady. It's amazing how many times I have had to do this. I remember this one so well because it's just the most recent.
Oh sure, I highly doubt I would have been caught since there was no one else there and no one ever watches the security tapes, or at least very rarely...
Pants-Off Thursdays prove that.
...
...what?
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