I had a golden moment yesterday, in the Barry's Tea sense of the phrase.
It happened in Tesco which just goes to show that miracles can be visited upon the earth in the most unlikely of places, including a rubbish supermarket that can sell you car insurance but regards a well-stocked fruit & veg section as optional rather than essential.
In preparation for a night with friends that would largely centre around cheap pizza and even cheaper wine I went to purchase that which was on special offer over the road.
As the cash register lady* scanned my items, she eyed the wine, looked at me and then asked me for ID. I laughed. The nice people behind me in the queue had a chuckle. It was all fantastic fun, until I clocked her expression and the unwavering and authoritative stare of one in full citizen's arrest mode.
"I'm 28 in human years and 104 in dialysis years you mental woman," I screamed in my head.
"Look at me ravaged by life, look at these circles under my eyes caused by Brendan, look at this tummy, scarred and under occupation by the foreign dictator that is this tube," my head voice continued.
But I smiled politely and apologised for the fact that I did not have any proof of the fact I was over 18 but said I could assure her I had long since left any age of schoolbooks and teen drama behind.
The episode got me thinking that there should be an alternative ID system for people who deal with crap - counting maturity as a measure of stress and trauma suffered rather than in birthday cake candles extinguished.
Those who have sailed through life wouldn't be allowed any alcohol or drugs or given permission to enter clubs or pubs or casinos or to play the lotto.
Only those who had experienced loss or hardship or pain would be permitted to have fun and play games with the hope of becoming filthy rich.
Of course, it would allow for children who were having a hard time to develop chronic addictions before puberty and would probably lead to a lot of violence amongst the messed-up types who would congregate in large numbers to socialise after their anger management classes let out.
I may need to fine-tune the theory a bit.
In the end, I did get the wine and I walked away a little more pleased with the world on May 26, 2010. Despite it all, here was some hope that I still looked fresh-faced and youthful.
Take that kidney disease.
* Cash register lady was admittedly quite elderly and possibly visually impaired
I'm envious, I'd love to be asked for ID but it hasn't happened since I was 21. Even then the look of arrogant mocking on my face was enough to make the barkeep think twice.
ReplyDeleteI'll probably just head to the States where, recently, my 67-year-old uncle was carded.
Damn my careworn visage. And you do have the look of the naive waif aboutcha.
Tesco? Meh! Every Lidl helps.
ReplyDeleteRadge - A good moisturiser and facial pilates at dawn every day, those are key. But don't spread it around.
ReplyDeleteTotalfeckineejit - You should offer that catchprase to Lidl. It's snappy.
I detest Tesco. So for me, every Lidl helps.
ReplyDeleteHolemaster - Am I the only person on earth who hasn't heard that 'every Lidl helps' line? Anyway, I totally agree on your assessment of Tesco. Did you hear about that town in Leitrim where the Tesco had to close cos nobody would shop there? The only time it has ever happened. People power.
ReplyDelete