I Look Young
30 January 2002
You'd think it would be a blessing, but no. Not so much.
I look young.
...Okay, so I'm 23. I am young. But there are plenty of 23-year-olds in the world who actually look 23. Me? No, I don't live in that world. I live in a world where people are constantly offering me the child's menu and asking for my ID, because I look like a junior-higher.
Case in point: the College Field Trip. I was in a class called "Principles of Middle School Education," or something like that, which focused on ways to educate middle-schoolers. As part of the classwork, we visited two middle schools, one in an affluent area, one in an inner-city area. Sounds fairly innocent, right? I should stick out as someone who is not usually there, right?
Not. So very not.
At the affluent middle school, the cafeteria lady tried to give me the student price on my lunch. Startled and kind of confuzzled, I tried to think of a polite way to say, "I'm a visitor. With the college people." Fortunately, she took a closer look and realized she had never seen me before. She asked if I was with the college group, I said yes, and I paid the proper price for my lunch.
At the inner-city school, a couple of students ran us down for a chat about our school. After the visitation, when we were heading on down the hall, one of the students asked me, "Hey, who are you?"
I knew where this was going. I'd gotten misplaced and had just caught up with the group. So I motioned to the group and said, "I'm with them."
They said, "Oh! We thought you were a student!"
That same week, the guy at Garfield's tried to give me the child's menu. He did not ask if I wanted the child's menu. He simply assumed. I didn't want the child's menu, darn it! I was hungry!
You see my problem.
At first, this bothered me. Okay, it still bothers me. I still ask God for a couple more vertical inches, just to see if He might someday respond affirmitavely. He hasn't yet, but He did allow me to think of a creative comeback:
Ask them..."How old do you think I am?"
Now it's become a game.
When my mom and I went on vacation this Christmas, we spent the night in a casino/hotel just inside Mississippi. I don't enjoy casinos, but like the gullible fool I am, I entered the casino with my mom. Sure enough, the lady outside the entrance greets me with, "Hi, how are you this evening...May I see your ID?"
I reach into my purse and respond, "First...how old do you think I am?"
She said, "24?"
She said 24. SHE SAID 24! I showed her my ID and went in all giddy with joy. She said 24!
On the way back, same story. Stop at casino/hotel (different one this time). Go in. But this time my mom made me push buttons on the slot machine thing.
"Let's see if YOU have magic fingers."
"No, Mom, I don't. I can tell you that already. It's midnight. I'd like to sleep."
But she insisted, so I sat my tired self down and pushed the button on the slot machine. Not exciting. Downright boring. In the 40 minutes I sat there pushing that stupid button, I could have read an entire Tom Clancy novel. That's exactly what I was thinking when the youthful-looking security dude came meandered casually toward my seat.
"Excuse me, can I see your ID?"
I already had it out because I'd seen him coming. He guessed low on my age, which was sad, because it turned out that I am actually several months OLDER than him.
How tragically sad. Other than war, poverty, hunger, disease, illiteracy, crime, torture, and death or serious injury by terrorist, is there anything more horrid than being ID'd inside a casino by someone younger than you?
Yes, there is: being ID'd at Wal-Mart* to buy a movie.
That happened just last night.
I stopped by Wal-Mart to pick up something, but I forgot what I was looking for. So I went to the electronics section and looked at movies and stuff.
CDs. Nada. Besides, I wasn't in the mood for a CD. I have CDs out the wazoo. So I ventured over to DVDs.
Chicken Run. Twenty bucks. Not today.
Atlantis. Twenty bucks--full-screen, yeah, but twenty bucks. Not today.
X-Men. Fourteen bucks! But is it widescreen? I don't know, but I like people's heads to be bigger than my thumbnail. Pass...and cry.
I gave up on DVD (for now) and moved to VHS, where I found Jeff Foxworthy. I love Jeff Foxworthy. Jeff Foxworthy for six bucks! Yeah, baby. So I picked it up and continued to peruse, and, in an uncharacteristic move, I picked up a rated-R movie (Proof of Life, which I had seen before. Good movie, by the way.) I was thinking about Jeff and didn't notice the R.
I went to the nice lady at the register. She rang up Jeff. No problem. She rang up Proof of Life. The computer beeped at us.
I stared at the screen. What are you beeping at, ya spoonhead?
I looked up. The cashier and this other guy, a new dude in training, were looking at me. I blushed. I hate being stared at. Then the cashier asks the question:
"Can I see your ID?"
I produced it. She viewed it. Then she started laughing, because she realized I was 23. Can you believe it? She actually stood there and did the math in her head. We had a conversation about looking young, then she told the computer that yes, I'm 17. I'm OVER 17. All I could think was, "Hey, they never do that when I rent movies."
Have I made my point? Looking young is a pain in the butt.
Back to Rants
*I'm not advertising or making any money or anything like that. That's just where I happened to go.
30 January 2002
You'd think it would be a blessing, but no. Not so much.
I look young....Okay, so I'm 23. I am young. But there are plenty of 23-year-olds in the world who actually look 23. Me? No, I don't live in that world. I live in a world where people are constantly offering me the child's menu and asking for my ID, because I look like a junior-higher.Case in point: the College Field Trip. I was in a class called "Principles of Middle School Education," or something like that, which focused on ways to educate middle-schoolers. As part of the classwork, we visited two middle schools, one in an affluent area, one in an inner-city area. Sounds fairly innocent, right? I should stick out as someone who is not usually there, right?Not. So very not.At the affluent middle school, the cafeteria lady tried to give me the student price on my lunch. Startled and kind of confuzzled, I tried to think of a polite way to say, "I'm a visitor. With the college people." Fortunately, she took a closer look and realized she had never seen me before. She asked if I was with the college group, I said yes, and I paid the proper price for my lunch.At the inner-city school, a couple of students ran us down for a chat about our school. After the visitation, when we were heading on down the hall, one of the students asked me, "Hey, who are you?"I knew where this was going. I'd gotten misplaced and had just caught up with the group. So I motioned to the group and said, "I'm with them."They said, "Oh! We thought you were a student!"That same week, the guy at Garfield's tried to give me the child's menu. He did not ask if I wanted the child's menu. He simply assumed. I didn't want the child's menu, darn it! I was hungry!You see my problem.At first, this bothered me. Okay, it still bothers me. I still ask God for a couple more vertical inches, just to see if He might someday respond affirmitavely. He hasn't yet, but He did allow me to think of a creative comeback:Ask them..."How old do you think I am?"Now it's become a game.When my mom and I went on vacation this Christmas, we spent the night in a casino/hotel just inside Mississippi. I don't enjoy casinos, but like the gullible fool I am, I entered the casino with my mom. Sure enough, the lady outside the entrance greets me with, "Hi, how are you this evening...May I see your ID?"I reach into my purse and respond, "First...how old do you think I am?"She said, "24?"She said 24. SHE SAID 24! I showed her my ID and went in all giddy with joy. She said 24!On the way back, same story. Stop at casino/hotel (different one this time). Go in. But this time my mom made me push buttons on the slot machine thing. "Let's see if YOU have magic fingers.""No, Mom, I don't. I can tell you that already. It's midnight. I'd like to sleep."But she insisted, so I sat my tired self down and pushed the button on the slot machine. Not exciting. Downright boring. In the 40 minutes I sat there pushing that stupid button, I could have read an entire Tom Clancy novel. That's exactly what I was thinking when the youthful-looking security dude came meandered casually toward my seat."Excuse me, can I see your ID?"I already had it out because I'd seen him coming. He guessed low on my age, which was sad, because it turned out that I am actually several months OLDER than him.How tragically sad. Other than war, poverty, hunger, disease, illiteracy, crime, torture, and death or serious injury by terrorist, is there anything more horrid than being ID'd inside a casino by someone younger than you?Yes, there is: being ID'd at Wal-Mart* to buy a movie.That happened just last night.I stopped by Wal-Mart to pick up something, but I forgot what I was looking for. So I went to the electronics section and looked at movies and stuff.CDs. Nada. Besides, I wasn't in the mood for a CD. I have CDs out the wazoo. So I ventured over to DVDs.Chicken Run. Twenty bucks. Not today.Atlantis. Twenty bucks--full-screen, yeah, but twenty bucks. Not today.X-Men. Fourteen bucks! But is it widescreen? I don't know, but I like people's heads to be bigger than my thumbnail. Pass...and cry.I gave up on DVD (for now) and moved to VHS, where I found Jeff Foxworthy. I love Jeff Foxworthy. Jeff Foxworthy for six bucks! Yeah, baby. So I picked it up and continued to peruse, and, in an uncharacteristic move, I picked up a rated-R movie (Proof of Life, which I had seen before. Good movie, by the way.) I was thinking about Jeff and didn't notice the R.I went to the nice lady at the register. She rang up Jeff. No problem. She rang up Proof of Life. The computer beeped at us.I stared at the screen. What are you beeping at, ya spoonhead?I looked up. The cashier and this other guy, a new dude in training, were looking at me. I blushed. I hate being stared at. Then the cashier asks the question:"Can I see your ID?"I produced it. She viewed it. Then she started laughing, because she realized I was 23. Can you believe it? She actually stood there and did the math in her head. We had a conversation about looking young, then she told the computer that yes, I'm 17. I'm OVER 17. All I could think was, "Hey, they never do that when I rent movies."Have I made my point? Looking young is a pain in the butt.Back to Rants
*I'm not advertising or making any money or anything like that. That's just where I happened to go.