The Art of Buying Wine
My daughter and I were in Michigan last week. While there, we went to Walmart. It just called to us. You know—There’s no place like home.
We cruised up and down the aisles, putting groceries into our cart, including a bottle of wine from the store’s meager selection. Then to the check-out, where the grocery bill was tallied and I was asked for identification to prove I’m old enough to buy the bottle of wine. I am seventy years old, but I understand there must be an across-the-board rule for this legality. No problem.
Then the clerk asked my daughter for her ID.
?
My 34-year-old daughter had left her wallet in the car. We couldn’t buy wine.
“Wait,” I asked, seeking clarity, “She has to prove she is also of age?”
“Yes.”
“What if she just leaves the store? Can I then by the wine?
“No.”
“What if we both go out and I come back in alone?”
The clerk looked uncomfortable. “As long as you don’t come back to me.”
In other words, once the clerk knows there’s more than one person in the shopping party, all parties need to prove they are of age, no matter where they happen to be at checkout time. We were dumbfounded, as was the gentleman in line behind us. He, too, had questions for the cashier.
We left without the wine and headed for the bigger grocery store directly across the street—the one with a far superior wine selection. This time we were both armed with identification, just in case state or municipal law required this pervasive hunt for proof of age.
Our new clerk was very friendly. As she began to formulate a question, my daughter and I both readied our drivers’ licenses…
“Do you have mPerks?”
Huh?
The clerk repeated herself, but I still didn’t understand—which I attributed to my hearing impairment. But my daughter understood enough to realize we were not being asked for ID.
“No,” my daughter replied. The clerk never asked for ID. Not mine. Not my daughter’s. And we walked out with wine—bought and paid for.
This got us to thinking Walmart was off-base: If parents leave work after a long day, pick up offspring at daycare, and want to stop at Walmart to buy wine for dinner, store policy forbids it—unless, perhaps, the parents engage in the questionable practice of leaving their children in the car, unattended.
And what if, while a parent is at the check-out counter—alone—the parent’s cell phone rings and the clerk hears this part of the conversation: “We’ll do that as soon as we get home. Just wait. I’ll be out in a minute.” Surely the cashier then has a clue that the parent has hidden an underage child in the car while trying to buy alcohol. Can the sale move forward? I should think not.
What if my demented mother had been with me—who, at the age of 90, no longer had ID? (There is no way I could have safely left her in the car alone.)
Decades ago, I lived in New Orleans where there existed drive-thru liquor stores. You could buy booze without getting out of your car. I thought it was crazy, given the high incidence of drunk-driving there. But maybe it was the better method for laying eyes on all parties accompanying the booze buyer.
Walmart Drive-Thru Liquor. Hmmmmm.
Nah—then kids would have to ride in the trunk.