Who Swapped My Wallet?

I went shopping.  Traumatic experience every time; there's a reason I avoid it as much as possible.  But I could avoid it no longer, so I went shopping.

One of my many purchases (after the elephant, but somewhere before Venus) was some superglue, and something I always forget about purchasing superglue (because I do it oh so often) is that it's apparently on the "18 or older" list.  I guess that similar to R-rated movies, it's harmful to a child's mental development.  Or maybe old fogies just got tired of having tricks played on them.  Either way, I was asked, "are you eighteen?"

I thought I'd finally stopped being asked that question.  I'd thought that finally I'd no longer have to haul out my driver's license.  I also knew that I'd been wrong before and will be wrong since, but I'd hoped nonetheless.  I'll learn better than to hope one of these days.

But when I got this somewhat confused look on my face and vaguely nodded, I guess she took that as a yes.  It was meant more as a, "I'm sorry, I don't think I really understand the question.  Am I allowed to laugh when I answer?"  But she took it as a yes.  Between the repeated searching glances and the inquisitive stare I'm fairly certain she didn't believe it, but she didn't ask again so I didn't feel like helping her out any.  Or hauling out my driver's license, who wants to show that picture if they can help it?

Certainly not me.  Even if it was right next to the credit card I had to haul out anyway.  Which brings up another question..  Why do they have the card readers for patrons to use if they're just going to request to see your credit card anyway?  Oh, and what kind of stupid question is "Is that your last name?" anyway?  She at least got to see the puzzled look and vague nod again.

Thankfully my last name matched that on the card, but if she'd asked if that was my first name, I'd've never been able to get my superglue!