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Gas Pumps
There is a few things that I just don't quite get about service stations. In the era of self serve you would expect a certain amount of accommodation for your efforts. For instance, every time that I fill up my truck, my hands end up smelling like an airport tarmac. Do you think it would be unreasonable for little wet naps or latex gloves to be provided when you're filling up? But more importantly, the thing that drives me crazy (pun unintentional) is a slow filling gas pump. I have no idea how this happens but it would seem to me it would be in the best interest of the gas station to have that damned pump filling at blazing speed in order to get you out of there as quickly as possible and the next guy on the enormously growing line up to the pump you've just vacated. The faster this process works, the less lines there are and the more likely, that you as a customer, will decide to stop at this particular Mobil station and not look for the next BP where there is no line! It's simple customer service. Just turn the stupid screw or whatever it is to make the gas flow quickly. Why the hell am I standing in the twenty degree weather watching the gas slowly creep into my tank at a velocity equal to the drool coming from my mouth when I'm sleeping? Sometimes my five year old child can count more quickly than the price display is calculating as my car is being fueled. Once the pump was so slow, that while my vehicle was running at the pump, I was actually burning more fuel than was going into the truck. My bill at the Exxon station was $1243 dollars!
Also, why is it that at some gas stations they have the little hook thingy that permits you to walk away from the noxious fume emitting pump, and allows you to get back into your car and listen to the Howard Stern segment on Lesbian Dial-a-Date. I absolutely can't stand, literally, when the service station forces you to pump, squeezing every last drop of unleaded into your 40 gallon Suburban. By the time I'm through pumping, I have to pry my right hand off with the left and then go to physical therapy for the damage done to my palm muscles. You may have heard of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome? This may be called Carpool Filling Syndrome. Thankfully though, through my single years, I've had plenty of time to have developed the muscles in my hand to the point that no permanent damage is likely.
As consumers, what is it about our obsession about getting the dollar amount to an even zero cents? I mean where is the logic? It's not as if we are concerned with having the right change and an even $20 will make our life easier than fishing in our pockets for a dime and three pennies when the total comes out to $20.13. I haven't paid cash for gas in years...because if for no other reason it takes longer! If I pay with a credit card like a normal American, I simply swipe at the pump, fill, and then forget to take my receipt so that the next guy behind me can steal my credit and number and take his girlfriend to the Bahamas. This of course is much easier than having to schlep al the way into the gas station and wait on line to pay in cash. Naturally when this does occur the attendant will ask you which pump number you used. You won't have a clue, thus you'll have to run back outside through the sleet and golf ball sized hail to your car, get the pump number and get back on line. Suddenly you'll notice that your total was $15.04 and you only brought in a ten and a five. You've got no small change and the give a penny -- take a penny tray is empty. It's at this point your thinking to yourself...I should have paid the thirty cent a gallon premium to have the otherwise unemployable immigrant fill my tank at full serve. Thank God for New Jersey!