I was 22 years old and in line at the grocery store to buy beer for my husband. Just as I finished unloading my groceries a long line of customers formed behind me, because I REALLY needed an audience for this awkward moment. The cashier took my license, swiped it, and the computer beeped. “It says on you’re license that you’re not 21 until April 2005,” she loudly accused. It was true – my license had that stupid red box around my picture and red lettering that said “Underage until April 2005.” Only today’s date was November 2006. So I told her. “Um, yeah. But it’s 2006.” To which she responded in an even louder, defensive tone, “It says you’re underage until April 2005!” and thrust my license in my face. This went on for a few minutes, her voice getting louder and mine getting mousier. I could feel all eyes staring me. If I wasn’t underage, there was still no way I was walking out of this store without shame. It finally clicked with the cashier that I wasn’t a punk kid trying to get away with something, but she wasn’t about to get embarrassed. Keeping the focus all on me she had me pay for my groceries with my card and my beer separately with cash. Why? I still don’t know. I made my husband buy his beer for a very long time after that. Liz – VT