Sorry, we have to ask everyone...

After a year long stint working in Yates (the classy Pub chain for the social elite..) I was pretty sure that I would never want to work in a bar again. There's the abuse you get from customers, the mopping up of vomit on a weekly basis (hey, I did say classy) and the fact that you're spending all night with alcohol and you're not allowed to drink any. It's like being a diabetic locked in a chocolate factory. You watch the buffoons staggering around loudly making points that never lead anywhere and having long winded debates with the quiz boxes, then you think, I'm not like that when I'm out, am I? Then you realise that you're not, and you are in fact quite a lot worse.
This week has seen the final nail in the coffin for any remote chance there was of me considering a bar job again. The already strict rules concerning serving underage customers are apparantly about to get even tighter. The government is working on a policy that would mean a three strikes and you're out approach to serving people under the age of 18, that could end up with any offending bar being closed down. Which I imagine would have a knock on effect on the fines imposed (which are already outrageous) for any bartender who makes the mistake. I believe it's something in the region of fifty pounds at the moment, an amount that would take someone working in a place such as Yates (a company which is a big fan of the minimum wage) approximatley 6 months to pay off. Just going by my earnings on that estimation.
My problem was, and is, that I find it impossible to ID underage drinkers. Not just because my maths is poor and by the time I've worked out how old they are from looking at their date of birth the bar has usually closed for the night. But because all it takes is one look at those young eyes so full of hope practically begging you to allow them the gift of getting hammered and I'm transported back to the summer of 2005. Back to a time when Take That were still just a 90s memory that no one ever thought they would see again and no one had heard of Amy Winehouse. A time where a 17 year old boy named Edward used to stand on tiptoes in the local Lloyds, making his voice deeper and praying that if he smiled at the bar staff enough, maybe, just maybe they'd not question his age.
Everyone had the friend who caused the group to get thrown out of almost every bar for the crime of looking youthful and not being blessed in the height department. In my group, that friend was me. Of course you're friends always say the same thing "Never mind, we didn't want to drink in there anyway" but you know inside they're thinking 'For God's sake, will you just bugger off home, we're trying to get pissed and you're baby face really isn't helping!'
How can I be expected to be the guy that I hated when I was 17? The guy who says "Sorry, we have to ask everyone", or "We only accept passport or license, I'm afraid that hand written note signed by your Mum isn't going to help".
I just can't, which means my days of pulling pints are definatley behind me for as long as the government are still employing the 'mystery customer' approach to underage drinking (which I think is entrapment but that's a whole other post in itself). The smoking age is going up to 18 and I hear they're thinking of doing the same with driving? We're turning into a country where teenagers are persistently told that they no longer have the right to do the things they've been looking forward to doing since they were youths e.g. binge drinking, smoking until you're throat is hoarse and driving wherever the mood takes you (not all in the same night obviously, unless you really want to live outside the law).
These limitations can only give rise to anger, resentment and rebellion, and with that ahead I reckon we're all going to need a stiff drink.