I can’t even begin to tell you how little happened today.
I had a decent burger for lunch, if that counts for anything.
There was one weird moment, when I was buying cough drops at a nearby Duane Reade. The woman at the register said she needed my birthday before she could sell them to me, and then intimated she might need to see some form of ID. Now, admittedly, what little I know about cooking meth comes from watching episodes of Breaking Bad (and, I think, an episode of Frontline), but I’m pretty sure none of the active ingredients is menthol, honey, or lemon. I’ve had to show ID, and sign, when buying allergy meds, even when it’s ostensibly over-the-counter, and I’m pretty much okay with that. (The Frontline ep indicated this has actually been successful in the war on illegal drugs.) But for natural honey throat lozenges, hanging out with everything else? And just asking me for my birth date? What if I lied?
Note to Duane Reade: I did lie.
I lie when stores as for my postal code. I hate that.
I’m not a fan of that either, and usually lie then too, but I can at least understand it. They’re looking for demographic information about their customers. I don’t feel like I should be under any obligation to provide that information, but it at least makes sense. “We need the birth dates of everyone who buys these here Burt’s Bees products or they can’t leave the front register with them,” on the other hand, doesn’t make sense as a store policy.