Did you know that, when the little man inside the gas station swipes your card for you, you don’t have to get a specific amount and then stop there like when you pay with cash on the inside?
I didn’t. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Today, I needed to put gas in my car because I’m a responsible human being (not really). So, after I got out of lab, I went to the gas station to fill up my tank. I figured it would take a couple minutes and then I could go about my day.
I have never been more wrong.
So, I get to the gas station, hop out of my car, forget my credit card, crawl back in my car to dig it out, swipe it on the little swiper thing, and nothing happens.
You know how the little screen always goes, “Credit or Debit?” Well, it didn’t show up. It just stayed suspiciously blank. So, being the genius I am, I swiped it again.
Still nothing.
So, I figured, “Third time’s a charm!” and I swiped it again.
Whoever thought of that phrase should be shot because they are a filthy liar.
So, I went inside.
I waited patiently in line behind two people, walked up to the little man, gave him my brightest smile, and said, “Can I have $10 on pump 5, please?”
He frowned at me, took my card, swiped it, and I left to merrily pump my gas.
But my life is never that easy.
I noticed, as I was walking to my car, that the screen hadn’t cleared.
“Well,” I thought to myself, “maybe I just need to hit the button for the kind of gas I want. Maybe it just needs a little prodding.” So, I hit the button, and nothing happened. Well, it beeped at me very angrily.
“Well,” I thought again, “the screen for the credit card is messed up. Maybe this screen is messed up too. Maybe it really has cleared and is waiting on me to pump the gas.”
Just to be safe, I stuck the gas thingy that bestows gas upon your car into the gas receptacle (I’m full of technical terms today) and squeezed the trigger.
The screen was not broken. It just wasn’t working.
So, assuming my gas pump was broken, I went back inside. I waited until the little man was done dealing with the two people in front of me and said, “It’s not working. What do I do?”
“You have to push the button for the gas – either the 92 or the 87.”
“I did. The red light beside the 87 is staring at me evilly.”
The man behind me started laughing. The little man at the counter sighed and told me to try again.
I went back outside and jabbed the button a few more times, assuming I was right and the screen was broken. It kept beeping angrily at me, not working.
I went back inside.
He saw me coming.
I was very afraid his eyes were going to get stuck in the back of his head.
He made me wait for him to check out two more people and then said, “You told me pump 1. You’re at pump 5. I need your credit card so I can refund you and put the money on pump 5.”
“I said pump 5!”
“No. You said pump 1. I put your credit card in pump 1.”
I decided not to argue with the man who was going to give me my money back and went back to my car to get my credit card.
By the time I got back, there were four people in line. I had no clue this gas station could ever be this busy. Like the patient little creature I am (that’s a joke), I waited until he had taken care of those four people and then signed the receipt he gave me and handed him my card to swipe again.
“Now, you want $10 on pump 4?”
“Yea… NO! Pump 5. I’m on pump 5.”
He frowned at me again and swiped my card. I hoped it was the right pump.
I went back out to my car, and the screen had cleared.
“Aha!” I thought, “It’s not broken.”
So, I merrily pumped my $10 worth of gas, but it did that annoying thing where it stops right at $9.99. Of course, I needed that penny’s worth of gas. So, I tried to do that thing where you pinch the trigger super fast and light and only get 1 cent out of it.
I failed.
Somehow, I ended up with $10.10. I felt terrible. There was no way I was going to drive away, owing the gas station 10 cents. I would feel like I was stealing. I would feel guilty for forever. I was also getting the feeling the little man was getting really sick of seeing my face.
But my conscience won out. I dug around in my car and found a dime.
I walked back in and saw his eyes narrow and his frown deepen. I smiled the most cheerful smile I could manage and said, “I went 10 cents over. Sorry!” as I handed him the dime.
He gave me a look of terrible pity and horror, held up his hand as though to keep me from coming any closer, and said, “Go. Just go.”
So, I left.
And then, I got home and told Twin the story. That’s when I learned that the 10 cents was actually charged to my credit card. So, the poor man probably thought I was the dumbest creature he’d ever come across.
To make matters worse, I was wearing my scrubs. I hope he doesn’t think badly of my entire profession because of this. Poor guy. But now he has an extra dime!
Stuck Inside an Endless Melody 