Free Beer?

I received my most recent secret shopper assignment this morning via an ultra-classified and top secret messaging portal not well known to most frequenters of the inter-webs, Gmail. In its cryptic message it described a plot in which, I, the 21-25 year old consumer, needed to attempt to purchase beer from a store without providing a proper form of identification. If I was successful in looking old enough to buy beer without an ID, which in California is 35, or lucky enough to get a cashier that really did not care about selling alcoholic beverages without proper identification, I had the chance of walking away with multiple ounces of free brew. My consolation prize? What ever item was located near the register for less than $1 so I could walk out with a receipt to prove I was there.

Upon approach of my first top secret locale I thought I had it in the bag. The free beer was only mere footsteps, and one interaction, away. As I waited in line I noticed that there was only one person running the place, and she was doing what ever she could to get people in and out. Of course she would not take the time to stop and ask for identification from a mature individual such as myself, especially considering I was wearing my “I really do not care” uniform of gray hoodie and worn-one-too-many-times jeans.

When it was finally my turn at the register, about 2 minutes after entering the premises (which seemed like an eternity considering where I was), I was greeted with an unusually friendly cashier in some definite need of dental work. She glanced down at my purchase, was starting to type something into the register, then, as if her conscience had just switched on, she pulled her overworked fingers away from the terminal and asked me for identification. Acting like I maybe had something in my pockets, patting them frantically, as anyone would when they were this close to free alcohol, I simply told her I had forgotten it at home. Awkward silence (I was really hoping she would ask for my birthday during this time). She simply said she could not sell it to me if I could not show her my license, at which point, according to my shopper rules, I was required to select an item of under $1 to purchase so I would have a receipt to prove I actually performed the shop. I got a Resse’s Peanut Butter Cup for 25 cents and went out to the car, defeated.

Unlike my last secret shopping experience, I only had two destinations this time around, so I really needed to make this last one count. Butterfinger and I rode to the final destination with high hopes of free beverages, but my heart sank when I saw the register attendant at this establishment. A girl, younger than me, who’s father was sweeping the floors of the place, was my opponent, this was not looking good…

I sucked it up and went inside, heading straight to the back of the store where the beer was located. When I walked in the attendant looked over at me, so I smiled, you know, kind of exhibiting a normal, human reaction, but it was met with an expression of utter indifference and slight boredom. As I was walking to the front with the coveted liquid in my hands I began also eying up the candy counter, figuring out what bar I would purchase when this kid inevitably turned me down. What do you know, no sooner had I clanked the 6 bottles on the counter, the cashier was asking me for my ID. Again, I performed the leg patting act, hoping she would see how desperately I wanted those Coronas, but to no avail, I was shut down once again and walked out with a Snickers bar (to which Butterfinger commented, “You know, you do not always have to get candy, they do have gum at the front, God forbid we have fresh breath in our house”).

So no free beer, but I did get a sugar fix and a little reassurance that maybe being 25 is not all that bad:) Oh, and I also made an easy $20.