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Sixteen years old, working at a liquor/convenience/gas station store that also had the only official fish weighing scale in town. It’s late at night, and these two VERY old women come in. They are leaning on each other, whispering and giggling like a couple of teenagers. They grab a gallon bottle of Blue Nun and hoist it onto the counter. I look at each of them in mock severity and say, “I’m sorry ladies, but I’ll need to see some ID for that.”
They wreathed in smiles and said, “Really?” They were digging out their licenses and showing them to me, both of them beaming with pride. I rang them up and they were on their way. I like to think I made their night.