If you know me at all, you know not to come between me and food.
I have been known to throw tantrums of epic proportions if I have my heart set on a meal and I don’t get it.
I’m not even joking.
I’m frickin’ TERRIFYING!
Those of you following me on Twitter or Facebook know that I spent most of yesterday drooling over this recipe, which I then decided I would make for dinner.
I did my grocery shopping in Tesco when I got back to Tallaght after work and unusually, found everything I needed.
That should have warned me something was going to go wrong.
I went to the Self-Service checkouts and scanned in my items.
The last item I scanned was my mini bottle of wine for the sauce.
PLEASE WAIT FOR ASSISTANCE
I waited patiently as Tesco Girl (who was usually at those checkouts) took her time getting around to me.
She was the stereotypical Tallaght Girl: overweight in ill-fitting clothes, vacant expression on her face, mouth hangingy open and an accent that made your teeth itch (the majority of people in Tallaght are actually very respectable, normal people, but this is the label we have *sigh*).
Eventually she got to me.
Tesco Girl: Can I see your ID.
Me: Excuse me.
Tesco Girl: I need your ID.
Me: *not really understanding* My ID?
Tesco Girl: Yeah.
Me: ….but I’m 24 in April.
Tesco Girl: It doesn’t matter. I need to see some ID.
Me: But I don’t carry ID. I’m 24 in April.
Tesco Girl: I still need your ID.
I’m not one for having a go at shop staff, because they usually get abused for things that aren’t their fault.
I used to get abused by 12-year-olds who wanted to buy cigarettes when I worked in a shop.
But they were obviously underage and as I am no lawbreaker, I wouldn’t serve them.
I would never do this though.
I would have to be (A) A sad individual, desperate to wield the only power I had in the world, or (B) slightly retarded not to serve me alcohol.
Me: I don’t look even remotely 17.
Tesco Girl: *shrugs shoulders*
Me: I got into a 21s club a little while ago without being asked for ID, but you’re asking me for it now for a tiny bottle of wine obviously being bought as an ingredient for a meal I’m making.
Tesco Girl: If you’re under 25, you need to show me ID.
Me: *spots The Boy coming over* Urgh, hold on a second.
Tesco Girl: *also spots The Boy* I can’t let anyone else buy it for you.
She KNEW me.
She recognised HIM as MY BOYFRIEND because SHE KNEW US!
Me: *ignores the stupidity in front of me* The Boy, do you have ID on you?
The Boy: *looks confused* No, why?
Me: *to Tesco Girl* This is ridiculous. I’m 24 in April, he’s 24 now.
Tesco Girl: I need some ID.
Me: Why? You know I’m not 17.
Tesco Girl: I need it so I can scan it through.
Me: So you can scan my ID?
Tesco Girl: Eh, no.
Me: So you don’t need to scan my ID.
Tesco Girl: No.
Me: So since you know I’m not underage, you can just allow it without me needing ID.
Tesco Girl: Eh, no.
Me: You know me! You know him! We’ve been coming here for over a year! You know us! You know we’re not 17 years old!! We come here nearly every day!!
Tesco Girl: *shrugs shoulders* I haven’t seen you in a while.
Me: And what!?? WAS I GOING TO HAVE AGED BACKWARDS IN THAT SPACE OF TIME.
Tesco Girl: *speechless*
Me: This is madness. I don’t have ID on me. I have no need to carry ID.
Tesco Girl: I can cancel the wine from your list for you.
Me: *can’t understand why she said that like she was doing me a favour* You know what, you can cancel the whole feckin’ lot! *storms off*
So I couldn’t make the dinner.
We ordered Dominos instead and I sat in a rage for the rest of the night, because I didn’t want pizza.
I wanted the chicken thing.
Which I made tonight instead.
It was lovely.