Having seen recent articles pertaining to the subject of this post, I was persuaded to contribute another data point to this relatively new phenomenon that has appeared in a number of regions. Perhaps it will shed some light on potentially effective treatment of this impediment to effective customer relations.
In a recent visit to our neighborhood drugstore, I was pleased to discover the addition of a new aisle, devoted to the stocking of drinking wine. As is well known, drugstores are a bit of a misnomer, dating back to the days when their primary offering was drugs. Today, one can find all manner of sundry products, such as shoelaces, candy, and, now, drinking wine. Drinking wine, as most people know, is wine that is not meant to be collected, such as any wine costing more than 10 bucks, but rather drunk in the course of Tuesday evening's dinner. But I digress.
To my delight, our drugstore offered a fairly decent stock of drinking wine, so I proceeded to put a number of these in my cart. As I approached the checkout counter, I noticed the stern look on the faces of the drugstore staff, and the old familiar chill ran up my spine, as it did when I was in junior high and the truant officer glanced my way, or at the National Lab before I retired, when I approached security guards bearing loaded M-16's.
When I had placed the wine on the checkout counter, I was startled when the clerk, a very large ominous-looking woman, demanded to know my birth date. You heard right; I, a retired man collecting Social Security, was being carded! When I recovered sufficiently to question the necessity of providing such personal information, she explained, as if speaking to an imbecile, "I can tell you are old enough to buy alcohol, but the computer can't." Sigh. Another instance of drugstore resistant staff, this one of the adult-onset imbecillus variety.
In a recent visit to our neighborhood drugstore, I was pleased to discover the addition of a new aisle, devoted to the stocking of drinking wine. As is well known, drugstores are a bit of a misnomer, dating back to the days when their primary offering was drugs. Today, one can find all manner of sundry products, such as shoelaces, candy, and, now, drinking wine. Drinking wine, as most people know, is wine that is not meant to be collected, such as any wine costing more than 10 bucks, but rather drunk in the course of Tuesday evening's dinner. But I digress.
To my delight, our drugstore offered a fairly decent stock of drinking wine, so I proceeded to put a number of these in my cart. As I approached the checkout counter, I noticed the stern look on the faces of the drugstore staff, and the old familiar chill ran up my spine, as it did when I was in junior high and the truant officer glanced my way, or at the National Lab before I retired, when I approached security guards bearing loaded M-16's.
When I had placed the wine on the checkout counter, I was startled when the clerk, a very large ominous-looking woman, demanded to know my birth date. You heard right; I, a retired man collecting Social Security, was being carded! When I recovered sufficiently to question the necessity of providing such personal information, she explained, as if speaking to an imbecile, "I can tell you are old enough to buy alcohol, but the computer can't." Sigh. Another instance of drugstore resistant staff, this one of the adult-onset imbecillus variety.
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