I get "you don't look like a Sharon" quite often when I pick stuff up.
Not to do with picking food up, but I know what you mean, one day many moons ago I left the house in a hurry to get a train to Stansted Airport so that I could have a leisurely brunch in the restaurant Giraffe.
At check-in I showed the passport I’d grabbed on the hurry-up.
The check-in agent said, “I prefer you with the shoulder length hair Jean-François”
I’d grabbed my wife’s passport in my haste to get to Liverpool Street for the train!
I called her, and she broke the land speed record up the M11 from London in her little Fiat, but I made the flight.