This afternoon at Walmart...

I had the truest of joys in meeting Henry and Sandra today.
Henry was training Sandra on how to run the cash register...the "20 items or less, express lane"...and the only lane which sold cigarettes.
I am guessing one of two things (both may be true, honestly). Only people who don't know how to count use this lane...or...they only hire people who don't know how to count to work this lane.
So, after watching 4 people unload their carts full of animal dotted underwear and scented trash bin liners...and not buying any cigarettes... I stepped up to the counter.
I said, "A pack of Camel Filters, please."
Sandra stutter-stepped, as she realized she would have to move two feet from the safety of the register and go fetch my smokes.
Henry followed her, being the dutiful "customer service TRAINER."
She asked, looking at Henry, "What kind did you want, again? Camels?"
"Camel Filters." I said, talking to her back.
Okay, now I understand the whole world doesn't have the same great taste I do and may smoke something else, or even (gasp) not smoke at all...but still.
You would have thought these two were looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. I watched them go past the Camels, maybe, six times before I had to help them out. Really, how hard was this treasure hunt?
"By your right hand. There they are." I was really quite nice with my tone.
Sandra moved to her left...
I sighed. Very quickly, I was no longer happy with her...it's those little things, you know?
"No, the other way. That is your right."
Sandra turned, scowling at me like I slapped her ass. But what was I supposed to say? She was moving the wrong way. If she kept going much further she would have been in the pharmacy.
I said nothing, only pointed to my cigarettes with my eyes, hinting the best course of action would be to turn back to hunt for my smokes.
In a very dry tone, I said, "They are the pack with the big camel on the front of them. It also has CAMEL written in blue."
Finally, after conferencing with Henry (not me) if those were indeed the right pack, she brought them back to the register.
As she scanned them, it beeped for my ID and I handed it over(want to make sure I am not some really mature 15 yr old, I guess).
This is where Henry and I no longer became friends.
He went on to explain to Sandy (I can call her that, can't I?) how important it was to check every person's ID. It didn't matter if they were 90 (yes, he said this). Even if it is your granny, check her ID every time (yes, he said this too).
Before I knew it, I said, "That's just absurd."
Henry was shocked, but before he could list statutes or codified Walmart policy...I put up my hand. Just give me my smokes.
The fat guy behind me wasn't speeding the process up, either. He kept reassuring Sandra (I like that better) how he was almost busted once too and how I may be part of some sting...hahaha...yeah, that's me alright...Officer John.
Here is the thing. Sandy will go by this as though God or, in her case, Joseph Smith wrote it as the 11th commandment.
I know she has to be careful to mind who she sells what to...but there has to be a limit. I understand, if little Timmy comes along with a Sharpie beard scribbled across his face, that is one thing. Or even the construction worker with some gray in his beard...I can live with that (sort of)...but, let's say Barbara Bush walked in...Henry would think he should card her...and, now, so does Sandra.
Do they get an "I card old ladies" sticker for their name tag?
What happened to common sense? Where did it go?
...certainly not to Walmart.