I thought this old and tired “they constantly ask me for my ID, thinking that I am a cheerful teen, yet I am 30 [40 etc.: leave numbers for your vivid imagination]” was buried in the outskirts of the Internet Hall of Cringe, yet I was seemingly wrong.

I was at the supermarket, picking up some little pre-mixed martinis to enjoy in the sun, when I sensed the store manager hovering behind me. “Got any ID for that?” he asked, sighing protractedly. I didn’t. “But I’m 30 years old,” I said, motioning towards my face. “See? 30.” He laughed as if I were an over-confident sixth grader trying my luck. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, scooping up the cans. “Sorry, no can do.”

Right then I felt like kicking over a nearby cereal display, spilling Shreddies everywhere. Think I’m a teenager? Watch me act like one, then. But I’m 30, so…my impulse control kicked in. [Oh God—E.T.]

People love to say “consider it a compliment!” when you get mistaken for someone a lot younger, but I don’t at this point.

[Blah-blah-blah, I saw some shit, despite looking like a baby, blah-blah—E.T.]

I don’t think I actually look physically younger than 30. But—like other millennials—I possibly give off a younger “energy.” ©

...Unsolicited advice: please, don’t take people’s politeness too seriously.