For whom the bell rings
Now, I’m not a heavy drinker but I am not averse to picking up a discount bottle of Merlot and a pack of Carlsberg when I visit our local Supermarket. Making my way to the checkout isn’t a problem but that’s where the problem starts. The Supermarket uses part time staff from the local schools on the checkout and of course they are mainly under-age. So as soon as they spot the offending bottles or cans they ring a dirty great bell. Alcohol, Alcohol this man has Alcohol!
Cue yours truly to try and make myself small as the whole shop turns to see what’s going on.
It’s not mine, I’m buying it for a friend!
Then one of the other staff, presumably trained in the noble art of ageism walks over to verify that I am of age and to push a button on the till. As its over 40 years since I celebrated my eighteenth birthday this is not a difficult decision and, let’s face it, how many sixteen and seventeen year olds walk around in a fluorescent cycling jacket with their trousers tucked in their socks.
It’s probably true to say that a sixteen year old is a far better judge of who is under age than anyone, when I was at school anyone two years older was definitely antiquated, perhaps almost senile.
I suppose the problem is they might let their mates buy booze.
Anyway, so not only do I have to remember what to buy, to take shopping bags, my debit card and its dreaded PIN number I also have to remember to go to a checkout staffed by an oldie. Pretty tricky for a retired person! Doing all those things might just get me out of the shop without the guilty feeling.
It got me to thinking that maybe we should be chipped like dogs. If the chip carried our ages it would automatically register me as a legal drinker, when I get to 60 I won’t need a bus pass.
Probably women would not like it but then they shouldn’t drink anyway as they need to drive.
By the way the Marlow ladies in their bling and Chelsea tractors don’t much like sharing their shop with a scruffy cyclist, maybe I should invest in some bicycle clips!
Cue yours truly to try and make myself small as the whole shop turns to see what’s going on.
It’s not mine, I’m buying it for a friend!
Then one of the other staff, presumably trained in the noble art of ageism walks over to verify that I am of age and to push a button on the till. As its over 40 years since I celebrated my eighteenth birthday this is not a difficult decision and, let’s face it, how many sixteen and seventeen year olds walk around in a fluorescent cycling jacket with their trousers tucked in their socks.
It’s probably true to say that a sixteen year old is a far better judge of who is under age than anyone, when I was at school anyone two years older was definitely antiquated, perhaps almost senile.
I suppose the problem is they might let their mates buy booze.
Anyway, so not only do I have to remember what to buy, to take shopping bags, my debit card and its dreaded PIN number I also have to remember to go to a checkout staffed by an oldie. Pretty tricky for a retired person! Doing all those things might just get me out of the shop without the guilty feeling.
It got me to thinking that maybe we should be chipped like dogs. If the chip carried our ages it would automatically register me as a legal drinker, when I get to 60 I won’t need a bus pass.
Probably women would not like it but then they shouldn’t drink anyway as they need to drive.
By the way the Marlow ladies in their bling and Chelsea tractors don’t much like sharing their shop with a scruffy cyclist, maybe I should invest in some bicycle clips!
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