(A young man asks for a ticket for an R-rated movie and hands me his ID. I’m about to sell him the ticket when the lady behind him speaks up.)

Lady: “Wait! That picture in the ID doesn’t look like him at all!”

(I look at the ID. It appears he’s been sick since the photo was taken, but it’s clearly the same guy.)

Me: “Well, ma’am, I’m fairly certain that this is the correct ID. Now, if you’d just step up–”

Lady: “No! You can’t sell to someone with a fake ID. He could be a terrorist, for God’s sake! You should call the police!”

Me: “Ma’am, that is definitely not necessary. I am responsible for checking identification, and I–”

Lady: “I need to talk to your manager!”

(I begin to respond, but the guy politely waves me off and turns to the woman.)

Man: “Miss, I have another photo ID here, with a more recent picture. Do you think this matches?”

(He pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to her. She goes completely white.)

Lady: “Well… um… yes, that’s, uh, fine!”

(She squirms for a moment, then exclaims, “I’ll be right back!” She drops the card and leaves the theater in a hurry. I give the guy his ticket.)

Me: “What was that you showed her?”

Man: “Oh, my handgun permit.”