Tuesday, November 06, 2001

I’m coming a little unhinged and my experience at the gas station today put a fork in it. Now if you happen to be afraid of tiny narrow minds filled with hate I suggest you stop reading now. So I basically had an anger filled red-hot bouncing around in my skull early this afternoon when the gas station Taliban decided to screw with me. At this point, a little back-story is required: I am nice as nice gets to these guys because they supply me with life-giving pop. I put up with endless lines as they train new goofs in out complicated change system. I endure the complete fascination at the same items I have brought up daily for the past year and re-explain them with a smile. I don’t even mind the little “new one?” “no it’s a refill” game we play at least twice a day when everyone knows I carry a big cup and a spare no matter where I go. But today I had alls I could stands and I couldn’t stands no more. While waiting in a line of three an obvious new driver came in because she couldn’t figure out the pump. Normally I would have written her off as too stupid for a license and in need of some aggravation but the piss ants behind the counter decided that yelling at her for somehow squeezing eight cents out of a pre-pay pump was the thing to do. It took all three morons behind the counter to yell that she needed the money now! She had her mom’s gas card and was getting pretty upset. I’d love to say that I was the first to offer to pay the ransom but the guy in front of me aced me out. I think he was having the same problem with the line not moving over eight cents that I was. Ok debt paid she needs help getting the credit card to work and she is trying to ask but her voice is shaking because they have picked up the pitch and the pace of the yammering behind the counter. Somebody better let the fat guy buy his caffeine fix before bad things happened, oops too late. She has started to cry and I’m putting her a little more than six years older than Katie so my caffeine starved brain begins to think about these assholes treating my daughter like this and I accidentally let go of my BIG 64 ouncer. I didn’t think they could get much madder until I bumped into the lighter display. Big dumb SORRY expression took the focus off the girl and the guy with the dime helped out by taking his paper from the middle of the stack and “accidentally” spilling the top three or four onto the floor. Dime/papers guy was walking out with crying girl presumably to help her with the pump while I refilled the bucket o’ pop. I also had to do my favorite sterilization trick [the taps on the sides of coffee machines dispense wicked hot water for cleaning] thus making things just that much better for the fellas. As I made my way back up to the counter, I felt the need to smile and compliment the three wise men on a job well done. My day got a little better after that when I realized that they didn’t ask if my pop was a new one. Epilogue: Bullshit filter: Everything happened as stated but I’m not sure if I dropped the pop on purpose or if it was just one of many mini-strokes I’ve been having lately. The lighter displat bump was accidental because I was a little flustered with all that pop soaking into the giant floor mats. If there was an actual hero in this situation it was the guy in front of me but screw him, I’m the one with the pointless web void to fill. 12:00:00 AM    says you