Gas Pains - Final Update: 27 April 2001

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A bit of an introduction is in order, I think. I wear many hats in my life; the one I'm going to talk about for the purposes of this web site is the job of Petroleum Transfer Engineer, or, to use the common slang, a "gas jockey". I've been doing this for quite some time, and for obvious reasons, I'm not going to reveal my place of employment or my name. You can know that I am in Canada. How's that?

Periodically I plan to update this site with the most obtuse acts performed for my entertainment each day. (Trust me, there'll be plenty.) Please take note that while the site is slightly fictionalized to protect the identities of the people and places involved (not that they deserve it, but..), every story contained on this site is 100% true. I will make up nothing.

And before I begin, this site got its inspiration from (besides the clueless people I see every day) Jet Wolf and her wonderful, entertaining site, Operators Standing By. Click the image below to go there.

Before I start, I should probably describe the place at which I work. It is a gas station/restaurant/truck stop/car wash; on the main drag, yet virtually impossible to enter from two out of four directions. The station is spread out over a fairly large area. The main building houses the gas station and restaurant. In front are 16 gasoline and diesel pumps. About a thousand feet away is a propane filling station. Near it is a separate set of high-speed diesel pumps for truckers' use only. Around back is the car wash, weigh scale, sani-dump, and several other things.

Last night (Sunday night), I was busily cleaning up the truckers' island. This involves sweeping up the sawdust they have spread on the ground to soak up the diesel they spill (which I might add they spilled because they left the high speed nozzles unattended, as they are not supposed to do), changing trash cans, putting fresh paper in the receipt printers, changing light bulbs in the canopy, etc etc etc.

So a car pulls up to me.. a newer metallic tan colored Cadillac, with gold where a normal sane person would leave it chrome. The driver rolls down his window.. I figure I'm going to be asked "How do I get going back east on the highway again?" as I do 170 times a shift.

"Now listen to me and listen good," I was told in a stern voice. "When you do my windows and check my oil you'd better not get a smudge or a streak anywhere on this car. Don't argue, just do it."

So I didn't argue. I wiped clean all of his windows all around, and the headlamps and tail lamps. I checked his oil and transmission fluid, and both were good.

I bit back the snappy response I'd thought up and said politely, "Actually sir this is the diesel island for truckers and other cardlock users only. If you need gasoline you have to use the retail pumps out in front of the garage."

He screamed some four-letter words at me, nearly frothing at the mouth, and drove off in a huff onto the highway, nearly causing a chain reaction pileup in his wake. And all told, he didn't end up with any gas.

Next, the tale of the twit with the truck. Guy comes up to me. "Can your truck wash take an F250 with a lift?" It's a touchless wash, so I say, "Sure, there's nothing it'll strike. Did you want me to look at your vehicle to make sure--" "Nah," he said. "If you say so, I believe you." and went to purchase a ticket.

Next thing I know I am hurrying over to the wash because a customer came up front and said something bad was going on. What I find is a Ford F250, all right.. a Ford F250 of about 1984 vintage with a 10" lift and about 44 inch super swampers on it. The tires got wedged in the guide rails--the pieces of tubing designed to keep you in the right position as you drive through the wash. The guy's super-long CB whip antenna has about the last 3 feet of it dragging on the ceiling. And he's all irate because I told him it would fit. This is without even the quadrunner which was in the bed of the truck.

Me: "What can I get for you?"
Customer: "How much are your cigarettes?"
Me: "$6.10 a pack or $41.29 a carton."
Cust: "Okay."

Me: ".......Did you want any?"
Cust: "Oh yeah. Yes please."
Me: (another pause) "...... Okay, which ones?"
Cust: "Oh, something menthol, I don't care."
Me: (looking at our rack of cigarettes which have about 8 kinds of menthol) "Well, there's this one.. this one.. this one.."
Cust: (after looking at the racks thoughtfully) "Players Extra Light King Size please." (note: not menthol)
Me: "Just one?"
Cust: "How much are they?"

Me: "Six-ten for a pack, forty-one-twenty-nine for a carton."
Cust: "Oh hell, that's too much. I'll go somewhere else." [leaves]

Customer: "I'm paying for the gas."
Me: "Okay, which pump number are you on?"

Customer (looking thoughtfully towards the pumps): "The one on the inside."

Me: "I have six pumps on the near island and ten on the far one, sir. Which one's yours? What number?"

Me: (desperately wanting to point out there is no "white van" button on my keyboard) "Was it regular or super or diesel or.."

I ask the customer if they know how much their sale came to and of course they don't. So I go outside and ask the pump jockey which one "the white van" was on. Turns out there was no white van.. but the tan colored Explorer was on pump 4 for $50 of super.

(Tell you what, you look around, look at every item in the store, build a shopping list, bring it all to me when you have it, and I'll take care of my spare time by serving the 20 odd people who've queued up behind you while you were screwing around, okay?)

(I check the code. The way our wash works, you purchase a code. The system generates a five-digit number for your specific purchase, and the number is only good once.) Me: "Well, sir, the computer says you used this code 10 minutes ago."

Customer: "Like hell I did!! I typed it in, then got out and folded in my mirrors, took off the antenna, and when I got back in, it said "Wash not ready - enter code"."

Me: "Well, there's the problem I think. As soon as you enter your code, drive in right away. Otherwise the wash "times out" and essentially gives up waiting for you."

Customer, irately: "So what you're saying is your signs lie and you want us to use the wash with our mirrors out and antennas up."

(Hmm.. or you could do all that shit before you type in your code, Einstein..)

Before I get into the fun and insanity today, let me welcome everyone who got here via the OSB page. I just noticed JW has mentioned me while she goes on vacation, and I'm honored. ^_^ Hope I can entertain you with the idiocy here, and hope she has a good vacation!

The rules about smoking and having flammable things within 25 feet of a gas station are there for a reason. Not to inconvenience you, and I know 'it's cold and I got my wife and kids in the car!', but there have been instances of fumes from the filling process being ignited by vehicles left running. Anyway, on with the follies..

One of the pump jockeys pointed out to me on Saturday's shift a group of people who'd gotten out of their van to stretch their legs and have a smoke. They parked their van over the fuel storage tanks. Six tanks, each holding 10,000 gallons of fuel ranging from 87 octane Regular to 94 octane Supreme to #2 Diesel.. and so on. Anyway.. I go over and have a chat.

Me: "Hi, can I ask you to put out the cigarettes please?" *points to the No Smoking sign beside one of them*

The response, of course, was "Oh, sure" and.... every one of them dropped their cigarettes on the ground and rubbed them out with their shoes' soles.

One of the most frightening things I have ever seen was a propane cylinder with the top valve guard bent as if it has been pounded with a ball peen hammer, attached to which, by a strand of twine, was a sparker--the device that is shaped like a large safety pin and has a flint and an abrasive surface on one end.

Finally, a story about the car wash and fire. A few years ago someone's car caught fire in the wash. Yes, it caught fire, and no, it wasn't the cause of the wash - it was either bad wiring or a bad motor or something else, but it had nothing to do with the wash. Ever since, when offering a car wash, occasionally someone will respond, "No thank you, I hear your car wash catches cars on fire."

Now, if I was thinking properly, I would say, "Yes, but the car wash is running, so they cancel each other out."

Customer: It leaves streaks and blotches all over the car and there's no soap and no brush.

Me: Well, it's a touchless wash, sir, that's why there's no brush, but I know for a fact the detergent company was here 2 hours ago and filled us up with soap.

Customer (now irate): Well, there isn't any f__king soap there now! Just the wand.

(The wand? Naaah.. you can't mean..) Me: All right, I'll come take a look at it, sir. Be right out.

I go outside and see that yes indeed, the customer has been washing his car with the garden-hose-like sprayer at the sani-dump.

To the kid in the metallic-blue Toyota Land Cruiser on Thursday night - the reason I turned around and walked back into the building, refusing to serve you, has something to do with the fact that you gunned your engine and lunged at me when I crossed in front of your vehicle to serve you, then laughed when I picked myself up off the pavement.

Brief side note: I'm contemplating creating a message board on one of those free sites. More info on the next update.

Cust: Well Tom, this is Larry So-and-So from Hicktown just down the road. I was there yesterday for gas and your attendant forgot to put my gas cap back on.

Me: All right, sir, let me look around.. For what type of vehicle? (rummage) Yes sir, I have here a cap that looks like it will fit a 1989 Suburban.

Me, staring like a deer into headlights at my manager who is watching and hearing my half of the conversation: Well, sir, my recommendation is that I can attach a note with your name on it to the cap and the next time you come by you can pick it up.

Cust (after a stunned silence): So what do you do with other people who have to spend $10.98 to buy a new gas cap at Canadian Tire 'cause your attendant was too stupid to put it back on? Huh? You have to mail it to them, don't you?

Me: All I can suggest sir, is that I mark it and leave it here for you, and you can pick it up when it's convenient for you.

Cust: I'll be in to pick it up tomorrow, Tom, and I want the name of your manager so I can talk to him while I'm there.

Customer (after having JUST turned away from a sign that says 'If Door Is Locked, Washroom Is In Use'): "Can I get the key to the bathroom, please?"

Customer, as I am giving her the change for a $1.43 purchase from a US $100 bill (Canadian value: $145): "No! You have to give me my change in US bills 'cause your money's no good."

A guy arrived in my station with his truck coughing and sputtering. Pulled up to the propane pump. Told me he JUST made it - he'd run out of propane about a mile back and switched over to gasoline with enough time left to make it in here. Filled up his propane tank. Truck wouldn't restart. Switched over to propane. Truck wouldn't catch still. Pushed it to the gas pump, added half a tank of gas. Still no go. Now is the time he chooses to mention that this happened the last time he ran out of propane too, about 4 years ago. They had to put on a new carb that time. "I hardly ever use gasoline," he told me. So I asked when he'd put the gas that was in his tank, in the tank. "Well, it's the same stuff that was in there 4 years ago, so at least that long."

Cust: And a car wash.
(substitute 'lottery ticket', 'pack of cigarettes', etc., as required)

A customer - I call him that because they are all customers now matter how rude, unintelligent, or clueless they are - jawed on his cellphone all through my attempts to get him to communicate with me tonight. I asked him what kind of fuel he wanted. Asked him if it was a fillup or something else. Asked him if he wanted his oil checked or windows washed. Asked him if he wanted a car wash or anything else from the store. Asked him if he wanted to pay by cash, credit, debit, cheque, or what have you. Et cetera. The only response I got out of him was a half-nod-half-shake of the head and an upraised hand. At one point he did say to the person he was calling, "Yeah, I'm at the gas station," so at least I can assume he was on the same plane of existence as the rest of us, just that he was a tremendously clued out moron.

Here is a hint. Don't think just because you are in a part of the country where your first language isn't dominant, that no one there speaks that language.

Run this phrase I heard tonight through BabelFish and see what exactly I mean.

As promised, I have created the Gas Pains Message Board for your chatter. Feel free to join in. :)

Sunday, 15 October 2000 - I used 'rabid' in the last title a little too soon..

Take note: It's not often you will find an entire night devoted to one person. It took me a bit of time to figure out exactly how to phrase this one exactly. That, and I had the weekend off. This is my first time back at the computer since Thursday.

I am cashiering on Thursday night, working through a rush of people, when one of the pump jockeys comes in and asks me where the transmission fluid is. I tell him if we have any, it's outside with the other oils and lubricants, and I described the size and shape of the bottle to him. He goes outside. In a few more minutes, a woman comes in and snaps, "Gimme a flashlight!" This was at about 11 o'clock, by the way. So I handed her our flashlight, not getting so much as a thank you, and she stormed out. I continued serving the line-up and got them out of the station.

The next thing I knew, she was back inside looking rather upset. She said, "Look, do you have any ATF fluid, 'cause the guy outside says he can't find any and that he thinks you might know where some might be but he doesn't want to bother you to go look for it." I answered, "Well, I can check the side storeroom, but I doubt there's any there.." and headed outside with her. Our side storeroom is on, as the name suggests, the side of the building, the side that faces the propane and the car wash, and on that side is a pay phone on the wall. As I rounded the corner, someone talking on the phone LEAPT out towards me and hollered, "DO YOU HAVE ANY ATF?!" After jumping back out of reach, I said, "Please wait a moment, I'm checking into it and I'll be right back." I went into the storeroom and turned it upside-down.. no ATF anywhere. I go outside to tell the two ladies the unfortunate truth, and as I'm locking the door, I hear, "Well, you'd better f__king get your shit together, hadn't you?" from the mouth of the first customer. I turned around and asked what she meant and was greeted with a string of profanity- and curse-laden rantings.

She demanded to know my manager's name and my name, as is the way with most of these, and I obliged. I also did something hardly any of them expect, which often seems to take the wind out of their sails: "And your name is?..."

Uneasily, she told me what her name was. For the sake of argument let's call her Bertha. Bertha stomped off towards the inside of the building with her friends (from the phone) at this time, and I went inside to resume cashiering. I did this for a moment or three, but Bertha and her friends proceeded to stand in the short hallway that connects the bathrooms, garage, convenience store, and restarant. I should add that this was after throwing the flashlight at the pump jockey who was covering for me on cash, saying loudly, "I guess I should give this back to them for their WONDERFUL help." So she stood in this short hallway, at the restaurant end of it, and proceeded to loudly badmouth our service and our efforts. After it had gone on long enough, I approached her.

Me: I am sorry that we don't have any transmission fluid right now. Is there anything else I can do for you?

I tried to explain that there just plain wasn't any left. Bertha told me that wasn't her fault.. I'd like to know how it became my fault, though.

Bertha: You are a GAS STATION on a MAJOR HIGHWAY, you KNOW you are going to have lots of people coming through here! You should build up a back stock of this stuff!!

Bertha: But you're a GAS STATION! On a MAJOR HIGHWAY! You're supposed to keep a backstock!!"

Bertha: (condescendingly) Then maybe it's time for a change in your management.

Me: I'll be sure to pass all of this on to the manager, Bertha is it?.. (*nods*) ...so that he can understand what's going on--

At this point, Bertha and her friend stomped past the "Wait to be Seated" sign and plopped down in a booth, continuing to be very vocal. They could be heard throughout the entire building.

A while later, the friend came back and asked politely for the flashlight again, so I gave it to her. They returned outside, and that is the last I saw of either of them--or our flashlight. There was a large garbage pile of empty bottles of ATF of various kinds, soaked (used) paper funnels, and soaked paper towels on one side of the building.

If Bertha does follow through with her threat to complain to the manager, I've suggested he listen to her complaint and ask in return when she plans to return our flashlight.

Woman tries to pluck a drinking straw out of the carton of them on the countertop. Succeeds but also dumps the remaining 199 in the box on the floor. Turns to me and without batting an eyelash says, "Your straws fell on the floor" and walks away.

I finish serving a line of about 20 people. I turn to try to fill up all the empty coffee pots/restock the emptied napkin/straw/etc dispensers/and so on. Someone watching from the other side of the store strides up to the counter, waving a stack of lottery tickets. "Now that you're not doing anything, can you check these for me?"

I am called out to fill someone's vehicle full of propane. I go to open the hatch on his cube van and remove the dust cap, open the spit valve, etc., and am told "I'LL f___ing do it!". I get pushed aside while the customer opens his own dust cap and spit valve. I leave these open when I am done filling so that he can "f___ing do it" then, too.

Got reminded by the above, of an incident from a while back. A pump jockey was filling some guy's 1986 Bronco up, and as I walked past it, he pulled the hood release. Thinking this indicated he wanted his oil checked, I stopped and reached over to open the hood. He bails out of his truck in a lather, shouting, "HEY! Don't touch. This is MY truck." So not only did I not touch, but the pump jockey came with me, leaving the super important fellow to finish his fill off on his own. What surprised me was that he wasn't talking into a cellphone too--those kind usually are.

I ring up a sale.. with tax, comes to $40.19. Guy hands me some money, says, "Don't worry about the pennies." This might be fine if he had given me, say, $40,25.. but when he only gives me two twenties, it's just arrogance and stupidity.

How do I begin to explain this.. the gas station/convenience store is not a flea market. You don't have room to haggle. If I say something costs six dollars, and you stand there and say forlornly "I only have five and a quarter", the thought that pops into my head is not "Let me lower the price to meet him", it's more like "This guy needs to go find 75 cents somewhere". Now naturally, if you're short one or two cents, I can meet you on that, but when the total purchase price is $5.85 and you only have $3, either put stuff back or start digging.

Someone came up to the till tonight and tossed a sub sandwich on the counter. As I rung it up, she said, "I was trying to get you to tell me if these were any good." I then realized she had indeed been doing this, but I had not registered it as being directed at me, as 1) she was facing away from me and 2) she was on the completely opposite side of the store, standing in front of the sandwich rack. I figured maybe she was talking to her imaginary friend or something.
(On a side note, what do you think an employee would say if you asked them if the items they were being employed to sell were 'any good'?)

Friday, 03 November 2000 - Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated..

Sorry to have vanished like that. In addition to having a busy busy time in the past while, things might be changing in my life soon. If they do I will still try to find some use for Gas Pains, but we will see...

For now I will try to catch you up on the mayhem of the past couple of weeks.

Had a guy in a BMW a while back who yelled at me while I was starting to fill his car. "HEY! Watch the paint!" he hollered, angry that I dared to insert the nozzle into the tank of his car. He was probably upset that I had my grubby gloves near his car, too. He wanted a fill, and someone else pulled up to the opposite pump, so I started filling them as well. I turned to see him trying to finish up his own sale. "I'll get that, sir, in just a second," I offered, but he snapped at me that he was in a hurry or something like that. He pulled the nozzle out with the trigger still set, and poured about half a gallon of gas all over the side of his car.

I'd just like to mention at this point that I am as upset about the price of gas as the rest of you. So screaming at me that you 'just paid ten cents cheaper than that this morning' isn't going to get you any sympathy. It's not like I can say at that point "Well, hell, you caught us, hey Joe, take it down to whatever this guy says he paid this morning!"... we don't offer to beat our competitors' prices by 10% like electronics stores and such.. in fact, in most major company-owned stations, these days, prices are set by the head office, who phone the station and say "You will set your price to so-and-so many cents a liter... now go do it." So if you can find a better deal than what I have to offer, take it (hey, I do it too). But don't act like I should cut the price just because you think it's high.

Cust: "You have shower today?"
Me: "I beg your pardon?"
Cust: "Shower, free for trucker no? Where you shower?"
Me: "... Oh. Down this hall and on the left."

Me: "Which pump number is yours, ma'am?"
Cust: "Pump 16."
Me: "Okay, that's $32.50 please.
Cust: "Is that the wine colored Neon?

(Umm... Idunno. What car is the one you parked at Pump 16? Or did you just pull that out of a hat?)

Don't throw money on the counter/at me/at my attendants. Unless you want your change/credit card/whatever thrown back at you. When I say "Five dollars please" and hold out my hand this is not an invitation to dump $4.89 in change on the counter and just walk away. And for those of you who go to places where the till is just inside the door (like my place was before it was renovated), you are hereby NOT invited to open the door, stand outside, and lean in and/or stretch and/or throw your money in the general direction of the till. Come inside, stand in front of me like a civil, coherent human being (I know that's a stretch for some of you), and do business.

If you want to get the deal on a special, get the items specifically mentioned in the special. If it says you get a regular size Pepsi and a small bag of regular chips for a buck fifty, then no, you can't substitute salt-and-vinegar, barbecue, smoky bacon, or any other kind of chips. And you can't buy two regular or one large Pepsi and a large family-size bag of regular chips and expect the same deal. Yes, I know there's fine print on the sign. I know the full story isn't contained in the ten-inch-tall lettering of the main part of the sign. That's how advertisers work. Don't blame me for it. Either buy the deal and pay the cheap price, or don't buy the deal and pay the full price. There's no grey area in between.

I found this written down in my notes from last week: There are few things quite as disgusting in this world as a young lady who might otherwise be described as 'attractive' coming in to purchase chewing tobacco for herself.

There's a restaurant attached to the service station I work for. You have figured that out, if you've read stuff in the past on this site. The restaurant is run as an entirely separate entity. Different management, different staff, different bank deposit, et cetera. But nevermind all that for a moment. You wouldn't get a prescription from the drugstore in your local mall, take the receipt to the hardware store next door, and expect to pay there, would you? So why the hell do I get so many restaurant bills -- with, might I point out, THANK YOU - PLEASE PAY YOUR SERVER in red on the bottom of them -- plunked down on my gas station counter?

Last but not least for this update, a sad observation on the state of humans as a whole. As mentioned in the opening, the station is in an area where there are only two ways to access it by road. On one of those roads, just about 12 hours ago as I type this up, a semi took an offramp too fast, flipped, crashed, and burned, with one fatal injury. There were a few people who were curious about whether or not there were injuries, and how severe it was.. but the majority of people were incensed at the medical examiner (coroner), police, and fire department keeping the truck blocked across all three lanes of the highway. "How dare they not clear the road, I had to take a detour that added ten minutes onto my trip!" was a common complaint.
The other comment which sprouted up today as a result of the crash was speculation on what really happened. (I guess the skid marks on the circular, tightening off-ramp, which led right to the overturned truck, weren't evidence enough.) Other truckers declared that he couldn't've possibly been going too fast on a curve. Instead, the most likely reason was that "some (expletive) four-wheeler" probably pulled out in front of him and cut him off. Yes, I know that truckers feel that people in passenger vehicles are the worst scum on the planet and that no one understands how much truckers have to go through and that without truckers, the Earth would stop turning, but hey.. the real issue here is that some poor guy died and wild speculation combined with incorrect assumptions doesn't do any good towards him, or his company, whose name was plastered along the side of the rig, at least where it wasn't burned off. Don't use someone else's loss to blow your own horn and air your particular beef. That's just plain wrong.

Everyone has to have a period of time without updates, I guess, and everyone has at least one "I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long" moment. This is one for me. I've been too stressed/busy/et cetera to update, but the mayhem has continued.

Cust: How much is your wiper fluid?
Me and a co-worker: Three-twenty with tax.
Cust (rabidly): THAT'S HIGHWAY ROBBERY! I COULD GO TO THE SUPERMARKET AND GET THREE OF THEM FOR THAT PRICE!!!
My co-worker: We understand.. I agree with you. If you'd like to talk to the manager he's in his office--
Cust: I drive a big truck!
My thoughts: And this would be of importance to this conversation becaaaause?....

End result: Customer rants some more and goes to buy the jug of wiper fluid anyway. My co-worker and I, not exactly reduced to cowering heaps by this lady, resume doing our work.

A man comes in nearly foaming at the mouth. He screams at me demanding to know the name of the woman (he used a derogatory term, actually, but anyway) who was on cash the day before.
Me: "I wasn't on yesterday, sir, so I don't know... can I help you with--"
Cust: "She f__ked up my car!! She said you were out of gas line antifreeze--"
Me: "And we are out of it, sir, at least in the little bottles. It is carried in our gasolines, though--"
Cust: "Shut the hell up! I told her I needed antifreeze and she sold me THIS and it f__ked up my car!!"
Customer slams an empty one-liter bottle of Prestone Engine Coolant (and antifreeze) on the counter and walks out.

Okay, I can see the guy would be upset... our staffer should've known the difference. But damn, so should HE... Prestone has this picture of a radiator on it if I'm not mistaken... and hey, has any real gas line additive you've ever seen been colored fluorescent green? C'mon.

Cust: "I need to get my truck washed! How come the wash isn't open??!"
Me: "Well, sir, because with the wind at 70 kilometers an hour today, the wind chill temperature is minus 58 degrees. A little too cold to be running the wash today."
Cust: "I'm due at an important meeting downtown in 10 minutes!! I need my truck clean!"
(Hey, just a wild thought, but if you get to that important meeting with a clean truck which has all its doors frozen shut.. won't that make just the same impression?)

One last thing for tonight... If you are shopping for someone else, at least obtain the authority to make decisions. When I ask you if you want the Encore on your lottery ticket, don't shout across the store (or go out into the parking lot to your car and ask) "Honeeeey, do we want the Encore?" It's a two dollar lottery ticket, dammit, not a house. Either get it or don't. Stop wasting my and everyone behind you stuck in line's time.

Me: What pump are you on, sir?
Cust: Twenty-six dollar.
Me: .... Was it gasoline or diesel, sir? (I have one gas sale and one diesel sale on my screen)
Cust: Gas! Twenty-six dollar gas!
Me: I have a gasoline sale on pump 9 for thirty-six dollars, sir..
Cust: Yeah yeah! I told you already! Twenty six dollar pump 9!
(On a side note, if we ever get to the point where we have twenty-six dollar gas, first of all, I'm retiring my auto, and second, I'll quit my job so that I don't get shot at the pump or something. 80 cents a liter is bad enough.)

An American in a motorhome came in to prepay for his fuel. I understand that in the States, one must pay before one gets gas. (Many an American comments on this difference when they get to Canada... enjoy it while it lasts, because with the number of driveaways we are getting these days, it soon will be like it is in the States.) Anyway, he prepaid for 40 dollars of diesel. I set it up and reserved the pump for him (when I make the sale on our cash register/pump controller, it sets up the pump so that it will dispense no more than the prepaid amount--in this case, 40 dollars). When he got outside he found the attendant being screamed at by a pickup truck driver who had driven up, picked up the nozzle, and started pumping, ignoring the attendant's request to let her fill his pickup truck with another pump. He complained (loudly enough that I could hear him through the closed front doors) that forty dollars wasn't even half a tank for him and how we should have let him fill up for whatever he wanted. He continued to rant and scream about how a "f__king shitty operation" we were, and subsequently threw down forty dollars and left.

I then set the motorhome up on another prepay and he got his fuel and went on his way, shaking his head at the outrageous behavior he'd just witnessed.

Me: Good day sir, what can I get for you today?
Cust: Grunt.
Me: I'm sorry sir? I didn't catch that.
(Ultimately I get the word "fill" out of him)
Me: Certainly sir, do you want a fill of regular or super?
(Customer nodded when I said 'regular' and turned and walked away)
(As I'm topping the sale off at $63.00)
Cust reappears from whereever he went: "Is that twenty??"
Me: No sir, you said a fill.
Cust: I said twenty bucks, asshole.
(Customer throws two tens at me and drives off)

I don't know what is sadder--the fact that he would steal fuel from me, or the fact that he doesn't have the nuts to go through with it all the way.

Friday night I'm working (of course) and find that one of my coworkers hasn't been seen for 20 odd minutes. So I ask the cashier where Bill is.

"Oh, he's in the shower," she tells me.

So I go back there, wondering what he could possibly need a shower for--maybe he got doused in propane, maybe someone splashed him with gas--and I find instead that he's standing as close as he can to a shower that's running scaldingly hot, full-blast, with a screwdriver in his hand, trying to poke at the innards of the broken-off faucet to get it to shut off.
Letting the shower run wasn't an option, because of course first of all the hot water would run out, and after that, all the water we spend gobs of money to get trucked in every day would be pissed down the drain. So as I hack away at the drywall to try to find the access panel for the water shutoff, Bill explains that he came back into the showers room to use the washroom across the hall, heard the shower running with the door open, and came in to find the faucet broken off and a miniature Niagara Falls spilling about.

No one said a word to any staff member. Hey, if you were scared you might've been held liable for damages, all you had to do was say something like "I walked past the showers and this one was turned on with the handle broken".. we never would've known it was you... Sheesh. :P

Last but not least, I overheard this gem as one lady talked to another while walking out the door:

"I noticed something with my Lexus today. You know when you turn the CD player off? It goes back to the beginning of the CD when you start it up again. I'm going to take the car in on Tuesday and get them to fix it."

I was processing a sale for a customer on Tuesday.. he handed me his points/loyalty card, then his mastercard, and after I swiped them thru the reader, I handed them back to him together. This, apparently, is a major major no-no, and the man pointed this out by completely freaking out, ranting about how holding the two cards together would cause one to 'demagnetize' the other. "I've had to replace this card three times in the past 6 months, eh? What do you think about that??!" he blurted out. I chose not to point out that he was stuffing them into the same pocket on his wallet, meaning they were pressed up against each other anyway. He finished signing his name on the copy, snapped "You're welcome" at me, and stormed out.

A co-worker related this one to me:

Christmas Day, the restaurant part of our station closed up for the day. This upset more than one party, none more than the person who stood there and screamed at the cashier about her bizarre and 'stupid' behavior, eventually screaming rabidly about 'you people and your F__KING PAGAN HOLIDAYS' giving him a hard time. He also complained that it'd been like this all over the country. So, for all those who happened across this person while he wound his way 'all over the country', I am here to say I feel your pain.

Early Wednesday morning, while it was still fairly dark, I was washing the windows of a pickup truck that was hauling a trailer full of snowmobiles. The guy refused to let me fill him with diesel, insisting he hold the nozzle while I finished his windows. (In fact, nobody needs hold the nozzle as it has a hold-open catch, but what the hell, why not). He finished pumping and got into the truck. I was leaned over the hood and windshield, wiping the latter clean with the squeegee. Imagine my surprise when he put the truck in gear and lurched forward! I leapt out of the way and stared at him, and he stared back at me in return, then went to park his truck so he could go in and eat in the restaurant. So imagine my second surprise when he came up to me and said, "You sure did a piss-poor job on my windows, you didn't even FINISH the one side." Well, yes, running over the attendant tends to cut short his time allotted to providing you with a service.

Sadly there will be no more tales of my woes at the gas station. Why? Because I have left that job for greener pastures. That is correct, that is correct! I'm taking a job better suited to my skills and abilities, in another place, still local to me. The nature of my new job (teeming with confidentiality) means I won't be able to do to it (on the web) what I have done for pumping gas, but I have another idea. I have a funny feeling my drive to work will expose me to some of the poorest driving on record. (Partly because I see it every day anyway.) I have created a new EzBoard community where the trials and mishaps of trying to stay alive on our roads will be discussed. Yes I know there are half a billion sites just like this elsewhere on the web. But this one's mine. <g>

Before I close this one off, I figure I can tell you this now: The gas station I worked at, as described on this page, does not exist in the form described. These stories, while all true, have been collected from several years working at various customer-service-oriented jobs, including a Beckers' convenience store in Brougham, Ontario; an Esso station in Midnapore, Calgary, Alberta; a PetroCanada station in Cochrane, Alberta; and several other places I have dared to call home.

Thanks for reading, and please feel free to join me on the Gas Pains EzBoard community. We'll have a blast there. :)