So,I'm at the corner
Walgreen's in my A.O. restocking the game day necessities ( or for any day,really) and the old cow whose obviously been regulated to the roadside detritus of life's road rally many laps ago,,,She wants to see my I.D.,,,well now,
Friends! If one is unable to discern the fact of my being easily having twice lapped the pinnacle of achievement in reaching the aged 21 in this race,they've zero placement amongst the retail outlet world of consumables, now,while I'm of understanding and usually attempt to adhere within the confines of the
LAW ,I popped off " since when do you gotta see my I.D.",,,she snarkly replied
" since NOW,it's mandatory " so,I stripped out the ol' classA casing-liner and handed it to her( upon studied review,that's a no-no move on my end),,,And the old smashed plastic Gatorade bottle enmeshed with some tractor trailer blow out tread rubber,,,SCANS the back of my D.L.,,,well now,I'm * expletive deleted* flipping out,STATING IN AN STORE WIDE SPOKEN OCTIVE ,,,"Jest why in the Hell do you feel authorized to SCAN the back of my D.L." " putting me in a data base,eh"?,,,well ,the ol' road grime encrusted gals peepers popped wide like she got the goosing of a cattle prod applied to her exit orifice and simply stated " why of course NOT",,,Well I said " this'll NOT * expletive deleted* happen again, EVER",,,after I'd paid (about $96 bucks), I said,,," It's been a real pleasure having done business thru out the years in here" as I loped on out that magical hatch that senses the departure of greatness leaving ,promptly allowing my final egress
feel free in expressing your valued views pertaining to this outlandish display of personal intrusion.
