confessions of a...

gas station attendant.

I haven't babbled about ridiculous work stories here for a while, so I thought I'd make a trip back to blog land...

...mostly because it's been 3 hours since I left work and I STILL have Miley Cyrus' new song stuck in my head. I usually switch between the top 40 station and the oldies station at work, but tonight I guess I had it on top 40s the whole 8 1/2 hours. Bad choice Batman. Life is hard. My soul is sad.

I'll make it through. I know this because there have been stretches of long, hard days, which I think any person working in retail can attest to. A few weeks ago I had such a terribly long week that I made a list of all the crap that happened. It went like this:
Ostracizing father customer: 1
Curdled/Coagulated milk explosion: 1
Can of Sparks, exploding & sticky: 1
Crazy drunk crack-head zombie, returning twice for beer: 1
Can of Coors Lt, exploding and foaming: 1
Stoned old woman, whining, pouting, in a swimming suit, with Dr-from-Back-to-the-Future-esque hair, begging to use a lighter to light her joint in the store, almost crying as I kick her out and threaten to call the cops: 1
Tail pipe falling off on my way home from work: 1
PMS: 1
Snooty woman incapable of pumping gas: 1
(I'm sure there's more that I'm forgetting.)
Sarah: 0. zilch. nada. none. empty. done. ugh.

It started with "I'll scan these for you so you don't have to over-exert yourself. I don't want you to have to work."
And ended with out-dated curdled coagulated stinky ass milk exploding on the out-dated shelf in the cooler.

Sometimes I just feel like I need a vacation.
Instead, I bought a new vehicle, thinking that would give me lasting comfort of not having to fix my (old) car atleast twice a month and the expense digging its nasty head into my grocery funds.
My (old) car is for sale in front of the store. Tonight an older gentleman, who is set on winning the lottery, lectured me on how I need to get it detailed (despite the fact I spent 2 hours cleaning it this weekend) and washed and waxed. I politely reminded him of the forecast for the new few days, calling for thunderstorms, of the severe variety. Also, I just don't care.

In any case, there are some days that I'd just like to pin a button on my uniform that says "I'm pretty sure I'm smarter than you. Don't make me prove it."

This is a kind reminder to not treat your gas station attendant like poop. Get off your phone. Don't pay in all pennies, nickels, and dimes. Don't poop on the seat. Don't wash your car with the squeegies. Don't put dead animals/animal parts in the garbages. Don't complain about our prices (we can do anything about it anyway). Don't throw stuff at us. Don't belittle us.
We're humans, too.
And sometimes we have dance parties.