I’m hosting a birthday party for myself in a week and, last night, my boyfriend and I went to get the drinks. Yes, we’re both of age, as are our guests. We loaded up the cart after doing our math on how much 20 people can drink of any given beverage; coke, juice, sparkling wine. I glanced in the cart, double checked my numbers, and headed to the cashier. 90 bucks.
The cashier looked up at us, our glass bottles and 32 cans of soda, and gave us that look. That ‘assumed alcoholic’ look. She scanned, picturing me so drunk I could fall off a stationary chair. I actually felt the need to justify myself to the cashier, explaining we’re hosting a party and not planning a three day bender. It was the level of judgment in her eyes reflected back at me that left a bad taste in my mouth all day; that stereotypical ‘college drunk’ feeling. Is it so hard for my local customer service agent to believe that I might not choose to drink? That I can buy alcohol with no intention of being out of control?
I’d make a speech about being seen for the person I am, but chances are the people reading this understand.
The cashier looked up at us, our glass bottles and 32 cans of soda, and gave us that look. That ‘assumed alcoholic’ look. She scanned, picturing me so drunk I could fall off a stationary chair. I actually felt the need to justify myself to the cashier, explaining we’re hosting a party and not planning a three day bender. It was the level of judgment in her eyes reflected back at me that left a bad taste in my mouth all day; that stereotypical ‘college drunk’ feeling. Is it so hard for my local customer service agent to believe that I might not choose to drink? That I can buy alcohol with no intention of being out of control?
I’d make a speech about being seen for the person I am, but chances are the people reading this understand.
