Robbing the cradle
Jun. 5th, 2008 08:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fbhjrSo we went out to dinner tonight at O’Connor’s. My wife asked for a beer. The waitress asked for her ID.
“Really?” my wife, who had just had her hair done, asked. “I didn’t think to bring it.”
“Sorry, but we have to for anyone who looks like they might be under 30,” the waitress said.
“Really?” my wife asked again.
The waitress seemed to get the picture she was off by a bit.
“Oh, I’m sorry if I insulted you,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You made her night.”
My wife has always liked older men. Instead of the 1 year older my ID says, now I can pretend to be 14 years older at least.
“Really?” my wife, who had just had her hair done, asked. “I didn’t think to bring it.”
“Sorry, but we have to for anyone who looks like they might be under 30,” the waitress said.
“Really?” my wife asked again.
The waitress seemed to get the picture she was off by a bit.
“Oh, I’m sorry if I insulted you,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You made her night.”
My wife has always liked older men. Instead of the 1 year older my ID says, now I can pretend to be 14 years older at least.
