I had run his route for him on Monday. It took me a second to register what he meant. "Are you serious?" I finally said. "They really thought I was twelve?" I didn't find the situation quite as funny.
One of the other couriers chipped in. "Oh come on, she doesn't look that young. Seventeen maybe, but not twelve."
"It's ok," I sighed. "I get it all the time."
"I bet you do," she said, nodding sympathetically. It did make me feel much better.
I would've been able to brush this off easier if I weren't mistaken for a high school student an hour later. I was sent home from FedEx because the delayed planes weren't due to come in for another four hours or more, and I needed to get to my next job before then. The Grand Rapids airport had been shut down due to heavy snow. My dad picked me up from the station (did I mention that I got stuck in the middle of my street trying to get to work this morning so my dad had to drive me?), and we stopped for coffee and scones.
The very nice woman working at the counter overheard us talking about the weather and thought she'd make conversation. "You had a snow day today, didn't you?" she said to me with a smile.
I looked up from the pastries. How did I explain to her that I was no longer in school, no longer in college even, and that I had actually been at work for two hours already this morning? I decided not to try. "Uh, yeah." I said. It was sort of true, after all. Next to me, my dad was trying not to laugh.
Just for good measure, I'm going to mention that last week at the incoming freshman orientation night I manned a table for the high school cross country team, and one of the parents asked me if I were a senior on the team. "No," I said. "I'm the coach."
It's a fact. I officially look like a child. Does that mean I still get to act like one?
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