Cash or credit?

Today I thought I may need a job before I go back to my summer job. I can't believe it will be a year since I started working at The Bowl. Anyway, there's some dinky little dress shop in the mall that has a sign in its window. The sign reads: Now accepting applications, inquire inside. Or something of that nature. So I thought... "Me? In a dress shop?.." But I inquired anyway.

The manager was an evil Russian commie and she looked me up and down. Several times. Then she did some inquiries for herself. She asked me how old I am. I told her I'm 18 because I am. She said, "No, no. That's far too young."

My first instinct was the thank her politely and walk out. But then a little demon popped up onto my shoulder and whispered in my ear "What would Daniel Shays do?" Before I knew what I was doing, I came back at her with, "Isn't that age discrimination? I'm of legal working age..." I don't know why I said that or if I even used the term "age discrimination" properly. Anyway, I just wanted to shake her up a bit. And she looked worried... Then I told her my dad's a lawyer and I asked if I could use her phone.

So maybe I'm not selling prom dresses to fat, adolescent Christmas hams. And I'm not making $6.75 an hour. And I'm not picking up conversational Russian from my would-be manager's long-distance phone calls. But does it matter? I am so easily satisfied.