Is That A Felony?

Remember the story of why I can’t get a library card? I often waltz into the library masquerading as my mother, get the books I wish to read and leave the library in no time flat. I’ve been doing this for years and have it down to a science. However, my oft repeated charade was sent into a tailspin the other day and I may or may not have committed a felony.

I had some books I needed to pick up and was in the middle of running errands up town. There were of course no parking spots, so I blocked a delivery driveway and ran in, thinking I’ll be quick. I ran in, flashed my card my mom’s card to the emo teenage girl behind the desk who looked like she’d rather be off in a dark room cutting herself. “You’re card expired, you’ll have to fill out a new form,” she told me. I froze. What? Me? Fill out a form? I mildly panicked, but calmed down once she handed me the form and quickly concocted a story about misplacing my driver’s license and the lines at the DMV being too long to get a replacement, all the while shoving my id holder that actually contains my driver’s license and not my moms into the back pocket of my jeans. Thankfully she accepted my story about the misplaced license assuring me it was no big deal and was clacking away on the keyboard asking me if all the info was the same…..

Name? Check

Address? Check

Date of birth? Check

Reference? What? You need a reference for a library card, who knew? Luckily, Emo Girl at that same moment told me who was listed in the computer as a reference so I didn’t even need to guess.

Employer? Check

Signature? Check

I hastily finished the form (yes, not the first time I’ve filled out forms pretending to be my mom) and thrust it back over the counter at Emo Girl. She checks the information against the info on the computer. Then looks up at me, staring intently; “You were born in 1958?” Remembering that I am supposed to be my mother I have no choice but to nod in the affirmative and try to look annoyed that she’s even questioning me. Then Emo Girl decides to strike up a conversation:

Emo Girl: “Wow, you totally don’t look like you were born in 1958.”
Me: “Yeah, I have really good genes.”
Emo Girl: “You don’t even have any wrinkles or anything!”
Me: “I take really good care of my skin.”
Emo Girl: “Wow, did you ever have any work done?”
Me: “Of course, a little botox here and there never hurt.”
Emo Girl: “I’m serious! You TOTALLY look like you are my age.”
Me: “Uhh, thanks, I’m parked illegally outside, do you think I can get my new card?”
Emo Girl, still staring intently: “Yeah sure, hey come here.”

Great she’s just called over an older librarian, I am so busted.

Emo Girl: “Look! She was born in 1958! That makes her like 50!” She says to the older librarian. While I am rolling my eyes getting very annoyed and wanting to scream “I AM NOT 50!!” But remembering that I am illegally using my Big T’s card and since I just signed her signature, I’ve probably just committed a felony or something, I keep my cool.

Older Libraian Lady: “Emo Girl, its not good customer service to comment on people’s ages.”
Emo Girl: “But I’m totally complimenting her! She looks like she’s my age and not OLD!”

I flash the older librarian lady a silent thank you and then quickly avert my gaze elsewhere as she is staring intently too. She walks away muttering “She really does have good genes.” I could tell she wanted the name of my plastic surgeon.

Emo Girl eventually finishes my card my mom’s card and I sprint for the door like Usain Bolt doing the 100 meter dash, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough! I made it out to my car just in time to find a police man getting ready to rip a ticket off of his pad, luckily I went to school with him so it didn’t take much prompting to get him to rip it up.

So at the end of the trip, I had the satisfaction of knowing that I do indeed look like a 20 something gal (all those trips to the tanning bed haven’t caught up with me yet!), people think my mom looks like a 20 something year old who has amazing genes and an awesome plastic surgeon, and I got the library card. Mission accomplished. I can continue my little charade and the library will be none the wiser. My mom by the way, laughed her ass off when she heard the story…she’s always telling me we look like sisters instead of mother and daughter—maybe she’s right.