gas station attendant.
Sometimes you have those nights that just make sense to end with a dance party/sing-a-long. This one happened to be brought to you by the Beatles' Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club album and a few tricky customers.
A new Sonic opened just down the road from the store last week. Apparently this is a huge deal for NE Wisconsin because there has never been a Sonic in or around the area. (In fact, the closest was Indianapolis, Indiana...some friends of mine road tripped there in high school for some Sonic food on a whim. Crazies.) This new Wisconsin Sonic has required the local police to direct traffic, parking lots full of traffic cones asking cars to weave this way and that way to finally reach their destination of pull-up-and-order fun. Waiters/tresses skate around and bring you food and fun whilst you sit in your car and drop a fry under your seat. Of course in order to get here you had to wait in the biggest traffic pile-up you'll ever see in a 100 mile radius of Sonic. It's bizarre.
Late Wednesday evening an elderly gentleman came into the store to pay for some gasoline. He slowly made his way inside and up to the counter as I greeted him and asked how his night was going. (Surely I should've learned by now that to ask how someone's day is is not the safest question.) He grumpily paid for his gas and then began going on an on about how pissed he was about the whole Sonic fiasco.
"They skate to your car!", he grumbled as I questioned (to myself) why this is such a terrible thing.
"You can't even eat inside! You have to eat in your damn car!", he proclaimed.
I responded, "well sir, I think that's just how Sonic's are. It's all part of the experience."
"Well it's a damn lousy experience. What the hell are you supposed to do in winter! It's lousy!", he grumbled again.
Seeing that my conversation with this man was going to be a losing battle, I simply told him, "I'm sure that's part of the reason that they never had Sonic's in Wisconsin before. The whole idea simply doesn't make sense for a good deal of the year."
He got more upset. Realizing he wasn't upset at me I wished him a good night. He wasn't quite finished venting, "And they have those terrible commercials...two HOMOS sitting in a car talking about stupid shit. HOMOS. I don't want to see that. That's terrible. If you're gonna sell food, tell me about the food. Don't show me two homos in a car and expect me to eat at your place."
I think all I could muster up at this point was "uhhhh, ok."
(this is just one commercial with the two guys he was talking about.)
I spent the few minutes after he (finally) left thinking about how generations other than my own react to marketing. Apparently to this man, two men sitting in a car being witty or dumb means two gay men are being terrible role models for the rest of the world. Some people may not understand the type of marketing that they are using. Some may just not like it. I understand these things...but to assume so passionately that you're seeing two gay men interact and have that bother you so much should really make you question yourself and your own morality, not of those actors you're seeing. Social norms and trends are such interesting things to consider, debate, and watch unfold.
(end sociological rant.)
All that to say, I went to my car, got a Beatles CD and turned it up. I started dancing around between customers, replaying my favorite songs, humming along. My bliss multiplied as Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds came on and a man shopping started singing along, which made a guy in line start singing, which got passed on to someone who walked in the door. It was lovely.
The album ends with a reprise of Sargent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club and a lot of silliness. As the last song played, someone opening up a door to the beer cooler yelled "SARGENT PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUUUUUUUUB BAAAAAAAND!"
It made my day a million times better. I'm thinking about making CDs of the Beatles anthology and having Beatles nights at the store. ...because really, who doesn't like the Beatles.
9.04.2009
8.26.2009
confessions of a...
gas station attendant.
I don't mind if you come in in your pajamas ladies, but please wear a bra.
And on other days you may wear skanky clothes in my store, but please keep your ladies in their place.
I want to retort stupid questions with stupid answers.
Like such as:
"Do you have milk?" ......and I'd say, "We are those Wisconsinites who don't believe in milk. No."
"Is this green button enter?" .......and I'd say, "NO! That's the time travel button. It'll bring us back to '85."
"Is your gas leaded? It just says regular." ......and I'd say, "Yes, we were magically able to skirt around strict laws since the '70s."
"What's this thing?" (pointing at the ATM) .....and I'd say, "It's a magical Mario mushroom dispenser. If you're lucky, you'll get a One Up and get an extra life."
"Do you hate your job?" .....and I'd say, "Yes, but only when people like you come around....otherwise I kind of love it."
All real questions.
Also, why is it so hard for a boy to ask a girl out? Is it the awkward counter between us? Huh. This sucks.
I don't mind if you come in in your pajamas ladies, but please wear a bra.
And on other days you may wear skanky clothes in my store, but please keep your ladies in their place.
I want to retort stupid questions with stupid answers.
Like such as:
"Do you have milk?" ......and I'd say, "We are those Wisconsinites who don't believe in milk. No."
"Is this green button enter?" .......and I'd say, "NO! That's the time travel button. It'll bring us back to '85."
"Is your gas leaded? It just says regular." ......and I'd say, "Yes, we were magically able to skirt around strict laws since the '70s."
"What's this thing?" (pointing at the ATM) .....and I'd say, "It's a magical Mario mushroom dispenser. If you're lucky, you'll get a One Up and get an extra life."
"Do you hate your job?" .....and I'd say, "Yes, but only when people like you come around....otherwise I kind of love it."
All real questions.
Also, why is it so hard for a boy to ask a girl out? Is it the awkward counter between us? Huh. This sucks.
8.25.2009
confessions of a...
gas station attendant.
I really love to high five people.
Sometimes it's my job to decide what to put on the marquee.
Recently, I grabbed letters from the back room, dragged the tall ladder out of the shed and carried it to the marquee all while giggling like a little girl.
One by one, I took the letters down from the last marquee message, made a neat stack of them, and then began assembling my new message.
Letter by letter, I began to get more excited for the nights to come where I could display awesomeness and have fun at work and get to see a new side of my regular customers. After putting up all of the letters, I compulsively centered the words on the board before I climbed down the ladder and skipped back into the store.
I took one last look:
STOP IN FOR
FREE SMILES &
HIGH FIVES!
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.
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.
4.17.2009
confessions of a...
gas station attendant.
Rules for flirting with the gas station attendant:
1. Generally DON'T do it.
2. If you must do it, do not suck.
3. If you are flirting, (your age divided by 2)+7 should not equal a number any larger than the girls age. Example. Dude is 38. 38/2=19+7=26. I am not 26. You are too old for me.
4. "Blah blah blah Gamblers hockey goalie stunk hot dogs blah blah blah You Single? Wanna date?" Is the worst line ever. I was so shocked that my reply sucked, you big creepy 40something lisper creep. Yes. No. Sorta single. Not looking for anything. No. No no sorry. Bye. Crap.
5. You wearin' perfume? Also not a good thing to say.
6. Don't flirt when you're completely obliterated. "Your skin complexion is just PERFECT! I want to high five you so bad right now." Is not a great line. It was great when you fell over trying to open the door to leave, though.
7. Don't insult my job then try to flirt with me. Even if I thought you were cute before, you definitely aren't now.
8. Don't flirt if you are married. This applies especially to the guys that are married and don't wear wedding rings. Scandalous and dangerous and go home to your wife.
9. You single? Who wants to know? Generally the best answer is no. Not single. Sometimes I even switch my ring over to my left hand. It's that serious.
10. If I flirt back, you are entitled to engaged in casual flirting every time you stop in and I'm there. This does not mean love.
11. If you are a knight, and you are there to sweep me away, give me 15 seconds to turn on the alarm and lock up.
Rules for flirting with the gas station attendant:
1. Generally DON'T do it.
2. If you must do it, do not suck.
3. If you are flirting, (your age divided by 2)+7 should not equal a number any larger than the girls age. Example. Dude is 38. 38/2=19+7=26. I am not 26. You are too old for me.
4. "Blah blah blah Gamblers hockey goalie stunk hot dogs blah blah blah You Single? Wanna date?" Is the worst line ever. I was so shocked that my reply sucked, you big creepy 40something lisper creep. Yes. No. Sorta single. Not looking for anything. No. No no sorry. Bye. Crap.
5. You wearin' perfume? Also not a good thing to say.
6. Don't flirt when you're completely obliterated. "Your skin complexion is just PERFECT! I want to high five you so bad right now." Is not a great line. It was great when you fell over trying to open the door to leave, though.
7. Don't insult my job then try to flirt with me. Even if I thought you were cute before, you definitely aren't now.
8. Don't flirt if you are married. This applies especially to the guys that are married and don't wear wedding rings. Scandalous and dangerous and go home to your wife.
9. You single? Who wants to know? Generally the best answer is no. Not single. Sometimes I even switch my ring over to my left hand. It's that serious.
10. If I flirt back, you are entitled to engaged in casual flirting every time you stop in and I'm there. This does not mean love.
11. If you are a knight, and you are there to sweep me away, give me 15 seconds to turn on the alarm and lock up.
confessions of a...
gas station attendant.
"Do you happen to have some day old bread? I have some seagulls that are starving.
....it's just my soft spot."
-crazy lady who proceeded to buy a perfectly delicious and fresh $2.49 loaf of white bread.
I'm seriously serious.
The distance between posts is not a sign of a distance between excitement and funnythings at the store. We've been quite busy switching over to a new brand of gas (BP) and getting accustomed to new registers. Sales seem to be up not only because the weather is finally starting to act like spring, but because of the change. I'd say 99% of the people are happy about it, the others are just OCD or have credit cards from the old company and would rather not get another gas card. Understood.
We had a huge 4-5 foot bunny on top of our deli case for Easter. I loved it for two reasons. One. Kids just loved him. "MOM MOM MOM LOOK IT'S THE EASTER BUNNY!!" was a pretty standard response but of course it varied in cuteness and excitement depending on age and awakeness. Two. I could hold immensely awesome solo dance parties behind him and no one would know. For real.
The day after Easter, one of the opening ladies hid Hector, the big bunny, in the store somewhere...hard to do, hiding something so big and white and cuddly wonderful. Well, we knew where he was, we just sorta forgot about moving him after the after work rush. As I walked into our beer cooler/cave/awesome to fill it just before closing I gasped! as Hector, the big bunny, sat atop a stack of Bud Light cases, looking at me gleefully and encouraging me to buy some beer at the local corner store. The most ridiculous part was that as I carried him out of the walk-in cooler, an entourage of gangly high school boys entered the store. Awesome.
I love Mountain Dew. I tried to quit drinking it the other day, but resulted in me giving up soon after my shift started and announcing to my Mom that I was drinking the best cup of Mtn Dew ever on the planet.
It's hard out there for an addict.
I can't wait for tomorrow night. People are going to be in a great mood: it's going to be beautiful outside, it's Friday, I'm working and I'm awesome, I'm sure the Brewers are playing and they might not lose, and it's FREE HIGH FIVE DAY.
I'm totally makin' a sign for that last one. Think I'm lyin'? I'm not.
"Do you happen to have some day old bread? I have some seagulls that are starving.
....it's just my soft spot."
-crazy lady who proceeded to buy a perfectly delicious and fresh $2.49 loaf of white bread.
I'm seriously serious.
The distance between posts is not a sign of a distance between excitement and funnythings at the store. We've been quite busy switching over to a new brand of gas (BP) and getting accustomed to new registers. Sales seem to be up not only because the weather is finally starting to act like spring, but because of the change. I'd say 99% of the people are happy about it, the others are just OCD or have credit cards from the old company and would rather not get another gas card. Understood.
We had a huge 4-5 foot bunny on top of our deli case for Easter. I loved it for two reasons. One. Kids just loved him. "MOM MOM MOM LOOK IT'S THE EASTER BUNNY!!" was a pretty standard response but of course it varied in cuteness and excitement depending on age and awakeness. Two. I could hold immensely awesome solo dance parties behind him and no one would know. For real.
The day after Easter, one of the opening ladies hid Hector, the big bunny, in the store somewhere...hard to do, hiding something so big and white and cuddly wonderful. Well, we knew where he was, we just sorta forgot about moving him after the after work rush. As I walked into our beer cooler/cave/awesome to fill it just before closing I gasped! as Hector, the big bunny, sat atop a stack of Bud Light cases, looking at me gleefully and encouraging me to buy some beer at the local corner store. The most ridiculous part was that as I carried him out of the walk-in cooler, an entourage of gangly high school boys entered the store. Awesome.
I love Mountain Dew. I tried to quit drinking it the other day, but resulted in me giving up soon after my shift started and announcing to my Mom that I was drinking the best cup of Mtn Dew ever on the planet.
It's hard out there for an addict.
I can't wait for tomorrow night. People are going to be in a great mood: it's going to be beautiful outside, it's Friday, I'm working and I'm awesome, I'm sure the Brewers are playing and they might not lose, and it's FREE HIGH FIVE DAY.
I'm totally makin' a sign for that last one. Think I'm lyin'? I'm not.
3.09.2009
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.)
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.)
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