Two For The Road

An Open Letter To The Guy That Works At The Gas Station

Dear Sir,

First allow me to begin by saying I am not a person who usually complains about the blue collar working man and/or woman, especially those that have to deal with customer service issues. I deal with people myself on a daily basis seeing as I work in retail. I know as well as the next guy that the normal paying customer can be a pain in the ass with a world of aggravation and some to spare. This, however, does not give you the right to provide me with horrendous customer service and expect me to accept and pay for said service without opening my mouth. I don't know where you are from, I assume though, from your accent you don't get choked up from hearing a rousing rendition of Born In The USA. Actually I don't either although I can assure you I am a true red, white, and blue-blooded American son of a bitch and if you knew my mother you would know I speak the truth. Since I am one-quarter Native American Indian I am truly one of the very first of the original gangstas. Even though my heritage is lost, watered down, or otherwise MIA, mostly due to the fact that after that first fateful Thanksgiving all the Indians decided they now wanted to become members of the Fakahwe tribe (you know the ones that walked around the Midwest for years asking "Where the f*ck are we?), I still deserve to be treated as a valued customer. If the shoe was on the other foot and you pulled into my gas station I would have served you differently than you did me. I feel that I need to note here that although I did say "my gas station" I do not really think it is in fact your gas station. I mean if it is, that's cool, in fact it might be better if it is since there is no way you will still be open and operating come Mother's Day with the type of customer service you are offering. But I digress. Oh, that means I got lost in my own thoughts and wandered off the subject, but I assure you I will not leave you dragging through this quagmire any longer than I need to. Oh, again I apologize, a quagmire, is, well, never mind just forget it. You do, after all, have customers you need to ignore and argue with, now don't you. As I was saying, let's reverse the situation and make you the customer and I will put on the crooked hat with the bent up rim of "Gomer Pyle: Pump Jockey". The first thing I would have done as soon as I was able to is I would have approached your car window and said something to the effect of "Hi, can I help you?" and then waited for you to tell me the amount and type of gas you wanted me, Gomer Pyle: Pump Jockey, to stick down you automobiles waiting gullet. As you can see I, unlike you, would not have continued the conversation I was having with the other guy at the station. Which brings me to a question, was he a new hire and were you training him? Because if so, I hope I was the example of what not to do. Anyway, let's say you wanted the same type and amount of gas I did, so after you told me that you required me to dispense twenty (20 see that's what that number looks like) dollars of regular petrol I would have removed your gas cap, removed the nozzle from the pump, put in 20 on the preset dial (which by the way comes in real handy and I suspect you might be using that little feature a little more in the future;). Then I would have placed the nozzle in the cars tank tube and began to give Malibu Barbie (that's my cars name you uncivilized man beast) a little drinkie pooh. Having done all of this correctly would have resulted in me getting twenty dollars of gas, instead the pump continued to pump until my little flirt on wheels was all filled up. Before you say anything, I know that is a lot of things to do and remember but no one held a gun to your head when you applied for the job, now did they? If they had told you all of this at the interview perhaps you would have opted for the brain surgeon career, that might have been a little easier. I guess you didn't notice me trying to get your attention, I mean I only waved at you, banged on my window, and flashed the crisp twenty dollar bill at you. Of course, how could you see me, you were still talking, still oblivious, and still stupid. You exited your little douche bag aquarium and when you walked by my car I informed you that I only asked for twenty to which you replied "Twenty?". Here's a little exercise I want you to do, do it a few times if you need. Ask anybody else who might be in the room with you to participate as well, it might help and make this easier. What I want you to do is say these two things to yourself - "Twenty dollars" and "Fill it up" and tell me do they sound the same? The easy answer here is no, they don't, not in any language. Now we had a problem. Many years ago, for a few months, I too worked at a gas station. Hey, times were hard so shut up! During those few months I never over pumped, not once, not even by a penny. You know why? Because I used the preset numbers on the pump, idiot. Of course if I had ever over pumped I would not have complained, argued, or whined about it. All of which you did, even going as far as tell me you were going to call the police and report me for theft of $3.55 of gas. Now I don't know if you did write down my license plate number like you said and called the police but I do know this; if I get a knock on my door and have to answer questions about the "Three dollar bandit" this won't be the last you hear from me. I know where you work, at least for now you do anyway. After I left and thought about it for a little while I realized I would have done something different and no it wouldn't have been to give you the money so it didn't have to come out of your pocket as you were so quick to point out. I don't care, and yeah by the way, I did have it on me. So you got punked. But as I was saying, the one thing I would have done differently is if I had known you were going to pump my car until it was full regardless of how much I asked for, I would have only asked for ten bucks! So when your paycheck is three and a half bucks lighter than usual let this be a lesson to you. Listen to the customer, and do what they ask you to do, it is, after all, only your job. Oh, and the other thing, don't fuck with the Cheekies! And next time you best squeegee my windows if you know what's good for you!