PlazaJen: Passion Knit

I stopped at Target this morning on my way to work, to procure a new lamp (because working in the Heart of Darkness has gotten depressing), and purchase every cold remedy and medicine that promises to eradicate my snuffles sooner. I was unable to purchase the kinds of medicine you take the little hard plastic card to the pharmacy, because the pharmacy was closed. I was also very disappointed that they did not have a wide selection of Theraflu.

I settled on Airborne, two types of Cold-Eeze lozenges (clinically proven to end your cold sooner!), Tylenol Severe Cold Daytime, and Theraflu Severe Cold Nighttime. I probably have enough zinc in me right now to pop pennies out my nose. (Did you know the copper penny is made primarily of zinc? There you have it. Dazzle your friends with exceptionally useful trivia.)

One of these items apparently triggered the checkout girl to ask for my I.D. However, before I could even react, she said, "Ah, no. Never mind, don't worry about it." (When I have a cold, I feel like I'm in an underwater tank and the rest of the world is moving at high-speed.) I asked her why, and she said that she didn't understand why someone needing medicine was supposed to be carded, and that she was supposed to check for ID if you looked (something) 40 years old. Now, even in my fog, my curiousity gets piqued, and I said, "Over or under 40?" (wondering, have they profiled the meth-cooker? What is the demographic breakdown? All the mug shots I've seen of meth-related criminals on the TV illustrate that meth ages you RAPIDLY. It is not kind to the skin, first of all, and you might be 25 but hooked on meth, you look like a 50-year-old battling cancer.) She replied, "Under 40, I'm supposed to card." She went on to be dismissive of the rule and sympathetic to my cold.

Huh.

I have some choices here. Either I look well over 40? Or I don't fit the meth-addict-cooker profile. Or I had a really apathetic (or sensible) cashier. I think I'll take any explanations except the first one.