What we do for a bottle of wine
Today has been an odd day. As my previous post explained, I got an odd phone call from the solicitors on my way to work, and on my way home afterwards I managed to get carded when buying a bottle of wine.
This is not usual. I am thirty three years old, I have not dyed my hair recently (so the grey hairs in my roots are showing), and I was buying one single sensible-probably-aimed-at-thirtysomethings bottle of wine amongst five bags of miscellaneous thirtysomething-sensible fresh vegetables and other groceries from Milton Tesco, so I can't imagine that the transaction as a whole looked dodgy.
If I was a bit younger I'd be flattered that someone thought I might be 18, but I think I've just reached the age where I react with bafflement and annoyance at big corporations and their Think-21 or Think-25 or whatever age they're now up to. It's very strange. Perhaps common sense is in short supply right now.
This is not usual. I am thirty three years old, I have not dyed my hair recently (so the grey hairs in my roots are showing), and I was buying one single sensible-probably-aimed-at-thirtysomethings bottle of wine amongst five bags of miscellaneous thirtysomething-sensible fresh vegetables and other groceries from Milton Tesco, so I can't imagine that the transaction as a whole looked dodgy.
If I was a bit younger I'd be flattered that someone thought I might be 18, but I think I've just reached the age where I react with bafflement and annoyance at big corporations and their Think-21 or Think-25 or whatever age they're now up to. It's very strange. Perhaps common sense is in short supply right now.