Customer: I don't have it.
Me: I'm sorry sir, but because you don't have your ID I can't sell you the beer.
Customer: Are you kidding? It's in the mail.
Me: I'm sorry.
Customer: Where's your manager.
Me: I'm the Shift Supervisor and I assure you you're not getting this beer.
Customer: But there is someone above you and I'd like to speak to them.
Me: My manager is not currently in.
Customer: Is someone above you in? They'll give me the beer.
Me: I'm sorry, but unfortunately they would not. Store policy states that no one, including a manager, can override the decision of a cashier to deny sale. And by law, if you look forty years of age or younger you have to have ID to buy beer. You don't look above forty.
I'm very sorry that the law doesn't recognize how awesome you are and makes special rules for you alone. Maybe if you didn't dye your hair a weird shade of pink, I could have maybe seen some grays and taken your date of birth. But by trying to be all hip, you doomed yourself to being IDed like the rest of the populace.
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