Getaway Girl Blog

Confidently Over 40

Well, okay then.

I guess that settles that.  Apparently, I look over 40, hands down, with an eye roll, a giggle and a, "Yaaaahh..."

Never mind that I'm actually 45. Tsk tsk tsk. I know I'm 45. But when the computerized WalMart cash register asks the clerk if the customer purchasing alcohol appears to be older than 40, no woman--even those just a day over 40--doesn't at least want to be asked first.

Taken down by a clerk at WalMart.  Oooh...that one hurt.

This happened to me last night when my bff Jeanine and I made a quick trip to WalMart after dinner. I need two items: a picture frame and a case of beer. The beer was kind of an after thought. I'm racing on a sailboat this weekend and the crew all takes turns bringing beer for the cooler and post-race celebrations.

I plopped my purchases on conveyor belt and the clerk rolled them to her. Jeanine read the question out loud when it appeared in big, ginormous letters (all the better for those 40+ to actually see w/out their reading glasses, I suppose) on the tally screen: "Does the customer appear over 40?" Jeanine looked at the clerk and asked, "Hey! Aren't you even going to ask her if she's over 40? Cuz I don't think she looks over 40!" (No, I didn't pay her to say that and yes, that is why she is my bff...she's my biggest cheerleader in every way I can imagine...)

That's when the clerk -- who, if I might editorialize here for a moment, looked to be 40-ish-plus her very own self, only with many more wrinkles and creases on her puffy face than mine, and who, I could even go so far as to say perhaps looked like she'd been ridden hard and put to bed wet -- actually turned her head from Jeanine, gave me the once over (yup, actually looked me up and down), rolled her eyes, gafawed a small snort, and said (out loud, even!), "Yaaaaah!" incredulously.

"Hey!" Jeanine bellowed for me, as I stood there in kind of an incredulous stupor, "That's my friend yer talkin' about!"

I swiped my card, entered my pin number and collected my receipt while the clerk stood there telling stories about the many customers who ask her that all day and how she doesn't ask many of 'em for ID because we are all so clearly over 40.

Ouch.  Ouch. And ouch again.

Taken down by a WalMart clerk.  Maybe it's time to hit the gym again. Or the Neutrogena aisle. Or start shopping for a plastic surgeon with a closet full of Botox.

Or maybe, just maybe, next time I oughta actually "take down" the WalMart clerk.  :)


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