grapeinabottle

And now, for a a semi-guest post from Mrs. Grapeinabottle:

Last night, we attended a swank event at Grapeinabottle’s place of employment, a grand opening gala complete with ice sculptures, hors d’oeurves on silver platters and…wait for it…open bar.  After enjoying one glass of cheap, free wine, a friend and I sauntered up to grab another.  The older, decidedly crotchedy bartender then points at my friend and says, “May I see your ID please?  You look way younger than 30.”

I tried not to snort my last sip.  Granted, my 27-year-old friend is gorgeous, with long mermaid hair and perfect skin.  As she laughed and fumbled for her license, I said, “So what exactly are you saying?  That I look older than 30?”  He glared.  I glared.  I said, “For the record, I am 29, until next month.”  (Totally true.)  Then my friend couldn’t find her ID.  There we stood, embarrassed and humbled, with one drink between the two of us.

In apology (I think), he told us that he just wanted to protect his bartending license.  I told him that I just wanted to protect my self-respect.  Then we walked over to the other side of the bar and asked another bartender, one who was young and hot, to serve us.

Which brings me to the point of this post:  do you get carded?  Are you pleased?  Insulted?  I’m always pleased when I am, insulted when I’m not.  Guess I better get used to the feeling.