Security sucks.

Okay, it doesn't really suck. I like being safe. But it is inconvenient sometimes.

It's the small things that amuse me.

Hearing my favorite song while in a store and not getting caught singing and/or dancing to it. Women who can, with a straight face, be confident in their ability to vote Republican right now. It's either laugh or cry at that one. I choose pointing and laughing. My attention whore of a dog, who sidles up to within a millimeter from my hand and breathes heavily until I rub. Yes Ruby, I know you are there. Yes, I am also withholding pets just to see how long you will hold out until you give me a nudge. I'm sorry. I love you. Guys who wax all their body hair off. I'm a big proponent of 'manscaping', but at the end of the day I have to spend more time on grooming than you do. So yes boys, I will chuckle at you if your pecs gleam brightly in the midday sunshine and your arms and legs are smoother than mine. And finally, watching my daughter annoy the crap out of her bunny until he can't take it anymore and nips her.

Oh hush! She doesn't get hurt and she totally deserves it. Girl's gotta learn.

Would you trust that face?

Anywho... Back to my long and drawn out point.

Using my debit card amuses me too. 

As soon as I'm done hauling my 'selection of swag' (read: groceries and/or children's clothing because I'm "Mom", not 50 cent) onto the checkout line, I whip out my purse, slide out the debit card, swipe that sucker and quickly enter my pin; before putting it all away again as fast as I can muster. Faster than the person at the register will notice if all goes to plan. 

Why, you ask? Because I'm a child. 

But it's become a game to me. A sacred and treasured flight of fancy into ridiculousness. A small respite and a moment of barely concealed glee when the checkout person looks to me expectantly, after scanning my items, and I pronounce, "It's debit." It's usually accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a small smirk. Again, I'm a child. They give me a look that implies I might like to swipe my card, I give their register a look that implies they might want to check the screen and the little moment where it dawns on them that I have already done my part in this transaction makes me, perhaps a little excessively, happy.

As I said. Small things.

So you can imagine, my dear reader, the outrage... the chagrin... the downright indignity I suffered today at Walmart, when after completing my small pursuit of merriment, the lady looks right back at me and says:

"I'll have to see some ID Ma'am."

Excuse me? I must have misheard. Is my PIN no longer good enough for you? Is my face not the very model of trustworthiness and honesty. Do you know who you are dealing with here, lady?! (Can I italicize that sentence any more?)

In actuality I said, "Really?" and handed over my driver's license.

And she shrugged and said, "New policy."

I said, "That's ridiculous." And then I thanked her and moved on with my life.

Well maybe not quite. But I will. As soon as I hit 'publish' on this bad boy.

Moral of this post? 

Screw you, overly ambitious security measures and worry-worts who caused them, let me play my game in peace. The whole point of the debit card and PIN was to speed up the checkout process and make banking a little more secure. It's been working for decades, please don't mess with it now. 

You paranoid freaks.