Showing ID

I like to think of life as a series of experiences...some (most?) of which you learn from, others which you simply squirrel away in the back of your brain for that elusive novel you plan to write someday when your kids are grown and you're too old to even care whether anyone buys it...but, I digress. 

My bakery job provided an interesting experience today. Still Finding Herself (whom I'd like to rename "Reality Bites") made the mistake of selling wine (we sell tiny, plastic bottles of wine) to a couple of underage, undercover operatives and next thing we knew, there were plain-clothed police officers swarming the counter (Ok, there were only two of them, but they sure managed to be in the way). It was an honest mistake. An avoidable one, yes, but also an understandable one. We sell wine so infrequently and our customers are generally so geriatric that asking for ID is not part of our routine. 

With a $500 fine slapped on the bakery, we (she included) kind of assumed she'd get fired. She didn't, which is particularly good because they are slapping her with a fine that will range from a minimum of $300 to a maximum of $3000. She won't find out until she appears in court. I understand that they need to be strict in order to get businesses to follow the liquor laws, but there is something incredibly sad about the fact that this girl, who is part-time, will have to work at least 45 hours in order to earn enough to pay the minimum fine. 

Ah, food service, dramatic and depressing.