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To The High School Kid That Asked Me To Buy Him Beer

To The High School Kid That Asked Me To Buy Him Beer

Hey there, kid. How was class today? Hope your weekend ended better than it started. I really do mean that, by the way, and I hope that this sincere explanation provides you with the closure you’ve likely been searching for over the last few days. You see, even though you reminded me a lot of myself when I was your age, I had no choice but to deny you.

I’ll begin by complimenting you on your overall strategy. Bravo. While I obviously wasn’t privy to the preliminary conversations that likely occurred in your murdered out Tahoe, I have to assume that you executed accordingly in all phases of the game. From identifying a somewhat chill looking dude that was clearly above the legal drinking age (me), to stalking said dude throughout the supermarket until he was isolated and vulnerable (buying whole wheat angel hair pasta), you never took your eyes off of the prize (a case of Bud Light).

Most importantly, though, you deserve to be commended for your forthright approach to Hey Mistering. The fact that you didn’t even try to spit some bullshit story about losing your ID or something is very commendable. You are a true straight shooter, and for that, I tip my cap to you.

Remember, just because you didn’t take home the W doesn’t mean you should hang your head.

With that being said, I’ve identified a few areas that I believe have room for improvement. First, you probably shouldn’t initiate a conversation with a stranger who you’re about to ask to commit a crime by saying, “Hey, chief.” Just a bad start there. Now, it wouldn’t have made a difference because in Texas, “Sale to a minor is a class A misdemeanor, punishable by a fine up to $4,000, confinement up to a year in jail, or both.” I’m not trying to catch a case for anyone, but I’m really not going to put myself out there for someone that big times me by calling me “chief.”

Second, I would advise against inviting the guy you just “Hey Mistered” to drop by the party for a myriad of reasons. While I understand you were being nice, I really began questioning myself after this all went down. I’m fairly certain I don’t look like the kind of guy that would hit up a high school party, but I have to admit that your invitation made me question everything about myself. Was I giving off the burnout vibe? Maybe my casual Friday attire was a little too casual. Thanks for the existential crisis, chief.

Third, you were dressed like you just left a Lumineers video. I know it’s been warm here lately, but tap the brakes on the designer tank top, bud.

Listen, don’t you go hanging your head, kid. We’ve all been there before — 16, no fake ID, and big Friday night plans to get as drunk as humanly possible and hang out in a parking lot somewhere. Or maybe your boy Tanner’s parents were gone and you guys were going to have a small get-together that would inevitably spiral out of control after Hunter, Brad, and a whole crew of seniors show up and take your girls. The point is, you can come back from this.

At the end of the day, at least you were the one with the balls to approach me. That says something. And after I let you know that there wasn’t a chance in Hell, you didn’t beg me like some desperate little prick. You just said, “Whatever,” casually walked back to your Tahoe, and tore ass out of the parking lot blaring that Chainsmokers’ song (I don’t know that for sure, but I figure that’s how it went down).

You’ve got heart, kid. You may dress like a douche and have an entitled demeanor about you, but you definitely have heart. Keep fighting.

Image via Shutterstock

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Dave

Lawyer. Writer. Dude doing business. I'm the meatloaf guy from tv.

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