It's sort of a running joke that I look like I'm twelve. I suppose it's because, at nearly 28 years-old, I have no (obvious) wrinkles, I smile easily, and I have a "sweet," "soft" voice. (I don't always appreciate these adjectives.) Since when does friendly equal youth? Especially considering the amount of complaining I hear about "today's youth". Here are just a few of the places I've been carded during my stint in lovely San Diego:
The Ralph's grocery store in Mission Valley
Legal age to purchase alcohol: 21.
Question from cashier to me: Looks like you have wine here. Who will be making the purchase today?
Answer: My grandmother.
AMC Movie Theaters in Fashion Valley
Legal age to view an R-rated movie accompanied by an adult: 17.
Cashier to my grandmother: I'm sorry but she really needs to be 17 to see this film.
My grandmother to cashier: Add ten years and you have her age.
The Point Loma Public Library
Legal age to obtain your own card without a parent's signature: 18.
Question from librarian to me: Did you bring your mom with you, hun? She'll need to sign your application.
Based on the reactions I've received whenever I reveal my real age, I'm beginning to worry that my driver's license will be confiscated by an over zealous librarian who is convinced that I couldn't possibly be closing in on 30 and that I must have stolen some nice old lady's wallet to obtain a fake ID. Not cool!
The one place I wasn't carded: The San Diego County Registrar of Voters. Apparently, they compare your signature in their database. What a relief!
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