Adventures at My Favorite Grocery Store in Texas

This anecdote is at Fred Charles' Blog as a guest post; he is away doing the Disney thing. This is a true story! I didn't get my final edit in soon enough, so here it is:

Adventures at My Favorite Grocery Store in Texas
by Dawn Dschaak

"Are you hungry Bruce?" I ask my little boy, as he sits in the shopping cart whining, crying and being a general pain in the butt; the way little boys are apt to do. He nods emphatically and says, "Ges!"

We decide on chicken strips, mac and cheese and beans, and get a whopping plateful handed to us at the deli counter. Rummaging through my purse for that ever elusive driver's license, she cheerily tells me it's alright; my check was already accepted. Cool, I just found my drivers license. I put it back in my check book where it belonged, and pushed the cart over to a table where Bruce and I proceeded to see who could devour the food faster. I won, but munchkin man ate twice what I did. I was impressed. We scuttled on, to the great relief of the patrons trying to read books and scarf down their own food. They might have been disturbed by Brandy getting her diaper changed in her car seat, or it could have been Bruce's squeals of delight as he shoveled barbecue sauce into his maw... with his fingers. Who knows.

So we moved on and finished our shopping, one baby sated and another one naked. I grabbed diapers, dog food, air wicks, and some other stuff. The baby got a new diaper put on, and I tried to conceal the fact that the diapers were opened. Hmmm, no matter which way I placed the package in the cart I really couldn't cover it up. Oh well. Maybe they will think I grabbed it that way.

I thought things at the check out would be just as boring, but I was in for a treat! The checkout boy, cashier, clerk, annoying little Texas heathen, or what ever you want to call him, was extremely pleasant. He even asked me how I was doing twice! Wow, he must be very interested in me and won't notice the opened diapers. Encouraged by the fact that my favorite grocery store in Texas already accepted one check without my life's history written all over it in blood today, I confidently handed him my check.

"I'll need to see your ID," he demanded, which I handed him, thankful I already found it. "Do you have Texas ID?"

Cleverly I replied, "If I had a Texas ID I wouldn't be able to have a North Dakota driver's license now would I?"

Waving my check in my face, this young, snotty, boy pointed out the fact that I had a Texas checking account.

"You need to get your Texas ID!" he sneered.

Really? I am amazed. I didn't know that. Should I explain to this little piece of toast that to get a Texas driver's license I need a billion forms of proof of identity, a vehicle registered in my own name, and proof of Texas insurance? Should I let this cookie know that to register a vehicle I need the title that the dealership has failed send me? Should I go into my spiel about the ticket I received for not having this little gem? I really want to, but crispy clean counter clerk won't let me. He is really incensed that I am disregarding Texas State Law. Funny that Wells Fargo doesn't have a problem with it.

"Did you know you can't buy alcohol without it?"

"I have never had that problem here before."

"THEN THEY ARE DOING IT WRONG!" he spat.

"Well, I usually pay with my debit card-"

"It doesn't matter! You need Texas ID to buy alcohol in the state of Texas!"

"I have never been carded here before."

Jabbing his finger at the ledge which my purse, checkbook, ID and arm are resting on, he points at some writing under the plastic. "If you look under 30 we have to card you!" During his tirade, my check goes through and he starts bagging my purchases. What a good boy.

"Well, I am over thirty," I say as I grab my receipt. "Maybe when I come in here with my 11 year old, they realize how old I am and don't bother to ask!" I start to push my cart away and realize he didn't even put the groceries in it. I even moved Brandy's car seat to make room for the bags! I jammed them into the cart and marched over to the grocery store's Wells Fargo bank, wishing I had gone there first. I could have paid with cash!

I vented my frustrations to the bank tellers about "the grocery clerk over there" as I made my deposit. I even got to complain about the problems getting my new driver's license.

"What kind of alcohol were you trying to buy anyway?" the bank teller asked, handing me my receipt.

"I wasn't."