the problem with drinking on the job

I'm rapidly heading towards 30 (the age, not the interstate), and it was a little bewildering to be dining at the country club (an experience that deserves a post of its own) of a VIP related to the university (who is well into his 80s) and be asked for my ID when I ordered a glass of wine.

In Bailiwick, everyone gets carded, so I would've had my ID ready. At the country club, not so much.

Tonight I learned that it's hard to feel professionally dignified when you are fumbling around in your purse trying to locate your ID, while the other five people at the table are just looking at you.

Someday, I'll be grateful for this.