Stock Personnel, Front Checkout

As Beth has pointed out, some of us have a certain proclivity for being mistaken for employees at retail and other service-sector establishments. This happens to my dad all the time, and I had assumed that I inherited some genetic predisposition or something. But when I walk out of the C&O, smelling of a day of floating in the river and drinking beer, and I'm wearing these shoes (yes, I know; Beth hates them, too), do you really have to banter me up about working the Pavillion with you tonight? I mean, I know staffing must be a problem there (shit, sound quality is), but seriously, dude, I did not see your friend with dreads walking by, nor did we work together tonight.

(Not to be a dick; I'm just saying: I really didn't look the part tonight.)