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.)
3.09.2009
1.30.2009
confessions of a...
gas station attendant.
"Hello. How are you tonight?"
"Good. He's pumping gas outside in the grey car."
"Both cars outside are grey. You're in the one that's farther away from the store?"
"Yeah. I don't know the pump number."
"Okay. Pump 8."
"No. Pump 7. Grey car."
"Yep. That's pump 8 and he's still pumping."
"Right. No. Pump 7. "
"Pump 8 is actually on the back side of pump 7."
"Right he's on pump 7."
.....
"Okay. $30.00 on Pump 8."
"No. He's on pump 7."
"Sure. You're right."
(I'm in bold. Obviously.)
I need to know...
why
are
people
so
freaking
dumb
???
Also, we are working on making the Corner Store green. Next up: cleaning supplies.
Floor cleaner: vinegar + water.
Glass cleaner: vinegar + water + lemon.
All purpose cleaner: TBD.
We've already conquered:
lighting, garbage tossing, efficient recycling, limiting water use, promoting local businesses by selling products made locally, making really good cookies.
"Hello. How are you tonight?"
"Good. He's pumping gas outside in the grey car."
"Both cars outside are grey. You're in the one that's farther away from the store?"
"Yeah. I don't know the pump number."
"Okay. Pump 8."
"No. Pump 7. Grey car."
"Yep. That's pump 8 and he's still pumping."
"Right. No. Pump 7. "
"Pump 8 is actually on the back side of pump 7."
"Right he's on pump 7."
.....
"Okay. $30.00 on Pump 8."
"No. He's on pump 7."
"Sure. You're right."
(I'm in bold. Obviously.)
I need to know...
why
are
people
so
freaking
dumb
???
Also, we are working on making the Corner Store green. Next up: cleaning supplies.
Floor cleaner: vinegar + water.
Glass cleaner: vinegar + water + lemon.
All purpose cleaner: TBD.
We've already conquered:
lighting, garbage tossing, efficient recycling, limiting water use, promoting local businesses by selling products made locally, making really good cookies.
1.14.2009
confessions of a
gas station attendant.
It's 9:30pm and you want beer. What do you do? You come to me.Last week, though, someone demanded that wine is beer. I gigglesnorted and insisted that wine is most definitely not beer, and won the battle. (Wisconsin is liquor+wine til 9, beer til midnight, generally.)
Wine is beer though, that's a good one.
Like any gas station, we have a penny cup. I encourage penny usage, really. I actually have a secret vow to never give more than 3 pennies back for change, which means I NEVER give more than 3 pennies back for change. That's right, your 54 cents change from a soda is always, always 55. You're welcome.
However, four pennies is way too many to use from the penny cup. Three is even questionable, but four! Four is right out. Don't be that guy.
Lay off the swiss cake rolls. Everybody needs to do it. Well maybe 7% of the population could stand a daily swiss cake roll or cosmic brownie, but please succumb your desires for gooey melty chocolaty goodness for the sake that you don't need to intake 600 calories like that. It's not worth it. Pop in some M&Ms and grab a glass of wine or a pint of your favorite and chilllll out.
I'm not really sure what possesses people to stuff wads of dollas in their pockets and throw them at me one at a time in smashed, tiny, paper-cuts-waiting-to-happen anxiety balls. But don't freakin do it. I mean, I'm talking a literal BALL SMASHED to the point of you-need-5-minutes-to-straighten-these-bills kind of SMASHED. It's annoying. Plus! You threw them at me like I'm a garbage can, and I don't appreciate that.
Oh, don't throw your credit card at me either. As a matter of fact, don't throw anything at me. I am not one of those sticky fly stripes. I am human. I am not garbage. I have feelings.
Uh, good quote:
"I'm gonna buy this (lighter) for my lezbo friend. Oh yeah. I'm getting this for little lezbo. She'll love it." -crazy lady #67
We know when you are pooping. That's all.
It's 9:30pm and you want beer. What do you do? You come to me.Last week, though, someone demanded that wine is beer. I gigglesnorted and insisted that wine is most definitely not beer, and won the battle. (Wisconsin is liquor+wine til 9, beer til midnight, generally.)
Wine is beer though, that's a good one.
Like any gas station, we have a penny cup. I encourage penny usage, really. I actually have a secret vow to never give more than 3 pennies back for change, which means I NEVER give more than 3 pennies back for change. That's right, your 54 cents change from a soda is always, always 55. You're welcome.
However, four pennies is way too many to use from the penny cup. Three is even questionable, but four! Four is right out. Don't be that guy.
Lay off the swiss cake rolls. Everybody needs to do it. Well maybe 7% of the population could stand a daily swiss cake roll or cosmic brownie, but please succumb your desires for gooey melty chocolaty goodness for the sake that you don't need to intake 600 calories like that. It's not worth it. Pop in some M&Ms and grab a glass of wine or a pint of your favorite and chilllll out.
I'm not really sure what possesses people to stuff wads of dollas in their pockets and throw them at me one at a time in smashed, tiny, paper-cuts-waiting-to-happen anxiety balls. But don't freakin do it. I mean, I'm talking a literal BALL SMASHED to the point of you-need-5-minutes-to-straighten-these-bills kind of SMASHED. It's annoying. Plus! You threw them at me like I'm a garbage can, and I don't appreciate that.
Oh, don't throw your credit card at me either. As a matter of fact, don't throw anything at me. I am not one of those sticky fly stripes. I am human. I am not garbage. I have feelings.
Uh, good quote:
"I'm gonna buy this (lighter) for my lezbo friend. Oh yeah. I'm getting this for little lezbo. She'll love it." -crazy lady #67
We know when you are pooping. That's all.
1.11.2009
Confessions of a...
Gas Station Attendant.
Just a few things we need to you know, or we know you know, or we think you know but will never understand...
I am not a meteorologist. I have learned that if I don't look up the weather forecast before work that I will suffer scorns and doubt regarding my worthiness of a human being.
I am not a tomtom. I did, however, casually (regrettably, sarcastically, girlishly) fall in love with a fellow of the same name. In any case, I might give you incorrect directions, but probably not. Just because I am female does not mean that you need to negate everything I tell you and go find a 47 year old balding male to ask (who will undoubtedly give you the same directions as I).
I will not give you matches. Why? We don't have any. Why? Are you paying for them? I didn't think so.
We are not public dumping grounds. Please keep your fish guts, toenails, ashtray inhabitants, and gallon jugs of mayonnaises to yourself. They stink, they're gross, they start on fire, and they are just plain weird. (Not. Even. Lying.)
I am not stupid. I do not hate my job. I probably don't have anything better to do than work on a Friday night, no. I'm sorry that you think less of me. I probably don't like you for that.
I have favorites.
I love vacuuming every night.
Even though I say "it's ok" that you just walked on my freshly mopped floor, it really makes me sad inside.
Yelling at me doesn't get you anywhere.
IF you are 40 years old, you should be versatile enough to pump gas from any type of pump. I will come out and help you, but please don't swear at me. You pushed the help button, so that's what I'm doing. I'm even ballsy enough to say that anyone with a driver's license should be that versatile.
(more to come.)
Just a few things we need to you know, or we know you know, or we think you know but will never understand...
I am not a meteorologist. I have learned that if I don't look up the weather forecast before work that I will suffer scorns and doubt regarding my worthiness of a human being.
I am not a tomtom. I did, however, casually (regrettably, sarcastically, girlishly) fall in love with a fellow of the same name. In any case, I might give you incorrect directions, but probably not. Just because I am female does not mean that you need to negate everything I tell you and go find a 47 year old balding male to ask (who will undoubtedly give you the same directions as I).
I will not give you matches. Why? We don't have any. Why? Are you paying for them? I didn't think so.
We are not public dumping grounds. Please keep your fish guts, toenails, ashtray inhabitants, and gallon jugs of mayonnaises to yourself. They stink, they're gross, they start on fire, and they are just plain weird. (Not. Even. Lying.)
I am not stupid. I do not hate my job. I probably don't have anything better to do than work on a Friday night, no. I'm sorry that you think less of me. I probably don't like you for that.
I have favorites.
I love vacuuming every night.
Even though I say "it's ok" that you just walked on my freshly mopped floor, it really makes me sad inside.
Yelling at me doesn't get you anywhere.
IF you are 40 years old, you should be versatile enough to pump gas from any type of pump. I will come out and help you, but please don't swear at me. You pushed the help button, so that's what I'm doing. I'm even ballsy enough to say that anyone with a driver's license should be that versatile.
(more to come.)
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