No Offense

One of my favorite things about New Zealand so far is the plethora of signage reminding me not to be offended. For example, at the post office, there’s a big sign next to every window that reads “Do not be offended when we ask you to remove you’re hat.” And they will. I know this because of all of the times I’ve been in line with Collin (who is a hat aficionado and would never deign to be seen without one.) All I want, after those long waits in line, is for Collin to be a little offended. But apparently that’s too much to ask, because he always stays cool as a cucumber. Even when I once asked him, right after he took off his hat, “Are you offended?” The postal worker was not amused and Collin was still not offended.

This signage was more relevant to me on my birthday dinner. There was a big sign that said “No offense: If you look 25 or under, we will card you.” I waited patiently to be carded. Then I kept waiting. I mean I had just turned 26. Surely I don’t physically age that quickly. And while the drinking age here is 18, and I know them asking for ID would mean that they think I’m a sophisticated looking 17 year old trying to pull a fast one on them, it would still be nice if they asked.

Finally, I took the situation into my own hands. “Are you going to card me?” I asked. The waiter looked at me, not bemused or with a single strand of hair out of place. “No.” “But don’t I look 25?” “No.”

Signs be damned. I’m offended. And apparently advanced looking, age wise. Happy Birthday to me.