Tonight, my friend Ben and I had agreed to watch a football game at my place, and have some pizza and beer.

We stopped at Magpies for pizza, and then Circle-K on the way back. After grabbing a six pack of Rolling Rock and another six pack of Dos Equis, I went up to the counter to pay. The woman, maybe in her early 40’s took one look at me and said, “you’ve got a pretty cool brother, don’t you?”

Shocked, thinking to myself “unless this woman is some super-hacker working at a Circle-K as an alibi or something – she can’t possibly know who my brother is, NOR figure out that I’m related to him in a split second.”

Instead of showing too many of my cards, I stuck with “huh?”

“Oh honey, you’re not even 17 yet! It’s alright, I’ll still sell to you – you look enough like him. What’s your real name, anyway?” she asked.

I told her that despite my apparent babyface, I was in fact Dave Robbins.

“Sure you are – Dave,” she said winking. “You weren’t really born in 1986. What's your real name anyway? You look like a Michael.”

“So I bet if I told you that I’m a stock broker – you wouldn’t believe that either, would you?”

“Oh honey!” she said, letting out a roar of laughter, as she handed me my two six packs and said “I can help you sir,” to the man standing behind me.