confessions of a...

gas station attendant.


I have favorites. Different kinds of favorites....favorites that come in daily, favorites that I don't get to see very often, favorites that I'd rather not see very often even though I enjoy short visits, favorites who I know will hang around so I can run in the bathroom, favorites who will help me shovel, favorites who bring me cookies, favorites who spend a LOT of money, and super-duper-all-time favorites....
Most, of course, fit into more than one of those categories, but it still doesn't change the fact that my insides get excited when the bell rings and they walk through the door. I realized recently that a big part of me will be missing if I ever change jobs. Over the years, I have formed relationships with people that most would classify as the strangest and most unorthodox type of relationship they have ever heard. This is a common feeling.
There aren't many places where you can frequent one business and form a relationship with an employee. Coffee shops and bars are the easiest. Gas stations, I'm sure, are on some folk's lists, but I think that I transcend the awesomeness of every other gas station attendant....ever. I think I would win an award for my customer retention and what-kind-of-cigarette-you-smoke-memory. Of course there are people who don't like me, and no doubt people that I don't like either.
I'm trying to figure out if I'm really as awesome as I just made myself out to be...

Two customers I feel I couldn't do without:
Heath. Number 1 all-time awesome customer. Comes in every night after 6:30pm. Diet Pepsi, Doritos, Butterfinger, & a sandwich. Occasionally Powerball, a Red Bull or Busch Light. Always feisty. Always awesome. He fits every category for favorite. He is also my neighbor. He fixes my car. He comes to the rescue when I have creepy lurkers.
Tom. Number 1 most favorite, butterflies in the stomach when he walks through the door, always makes me smile customer. He moved back home to Illinois in the fall. By far the most predictable customer. Camel Lights, Jacks sausage pizza, Miller Lite. Occasionally Reese's PB and gasoline. Always a smile. I still miss him. I told him so last night. He reciprocated. I melted. I wish that he'd walk through the door one night and completely surprise me. Alas, he's 3 hours away and who knows if he ever had a ridiculous crush on me too.

*sigh*
It's a rough job. I get so attached.
I've helped people quit smoking. I've helped people start. I've calmed down a soon-to-be-father in a rush on the way to the hospital. I made friends with the neighbor kids. I had an 80 year old Irish man sing a song to me. I high-five the Schwan's man every time he comes through the door. I have dance parties.
I get grumpy. I kick people out. I clean poop off the walls. I dump mop water on my feet. I break a bottle at the end of the night. I clean up and entire gallon of spilled milk. I shovel. I clean out garbage cans. I change the marquee.


and I love it.

(usually.)