A smile and a handshake ain't gonna cut it

Ah the succulent joys of a Monday.

A woman, after selecting a couple movies and a realistic dong, threw them up on the counter neatly along side a credit card. Consequently, I inquired if I could see her ID to back up said credit card.

Nope, they forgot their wallet at home. She allegedly left her house early to be able to pop into my store on their way to an appointment of some sort and somehow forgot to make sure she had her wallet along. Never mind that I don't know of many people who routinely carry their credit cards loose upon their person. This omission however is totally OK because they "shop here all the time."

Right.

Then my eye falls upon the name imprinted on the humble card. It's unmistakably masculine. Whereupon I ask with inner trepidation if the card is actually hers.

Nope. It's her husband's. That makes it alright, right?

The fuck you say. Ringing up a healthy sales total for someone with no credentials as to their identity on a card belonging to someone else? Not going to happen sister. But thank you ever so for checking to see if a turnip truck passed by this morning.