NaBloPoMo: March 8, 2010 “Fuel Gauges, Pumping Gas and Drive-Thrus”
My car was running on fumes; I mean my car was all but completely out of gas, according to my fuel gauge. But, as we all know, fuel gauges are infamous for pulling practical jokes. Some of them are even considered to be downright hateful and play cruel jokes on unsuspecting drivers. Take my fuel gauge for instance. The night before, when I arrived home from work, I swear the tank was at least 1/8 full or no more than 7/8 empty… depending on which side of that half glass thing you fall on. Anyway, the next day I was running late for work and somehow my fuel gauge knew that. I don’t know how the nasty little bastard found out, but he knew it. I can’t prove it right now, but I think the dang thing might have had something to do with me running late to begin with. So, when I sat my rushing butt in my driver’s seat and hurriedly turned the ignition switch, and as my engine hummed to life, I scanned my dash instruments just like you‘re supposed to, and at that moment I thought I heard a faint giggle as my eyes swept across the gas needle…which was buried under the dreaded E… and I’M RUNNING LATE! DAMN YOU FUEL GAUGE!
“How could that have happened? Last night I had gas in the tank, dammit! I know I did…didn’t I? I gotta get gas…can I make it to the station? Maybe if I coast down the hills and stay off the pedal as much as I can… Come on, come on….a little farther…one more hill….whew! Ok! Yeah….I might make it to work on time after all!”
I pulled up to the pump with hope… “I hope this is quick.”
I swiped my card in the little swiper slot, entered my “PIN number” (which, by the way, apparently stands for Personal Identification Number number…sorry, just one of my peeves) then what appeared on the tiny, filthy, barely legible screen utterly burst my little bubble of hope… “See Cashier”.
So, off I go in an old-fat-guy trot to see the cashier. I stepped into the spacious convenience store and in front of me is a long counter with two registers and people in line at each. The first line is a guy leaned up on the counter with a card in his hand and an aggravated look on his face, there was no cashier at the register. At the other register was a cashier and in the line was a guy obviously having trouble figuring out how to use the little handheld card swiper slot thing. Behind him was a woman with a Twenty in her hand. I was headed toward the first line when I noticed the woman in line two reach the Twenty over the shoulder of Confused Guy to the cashier and turn and walk out, so I went to line two. Of course, as I took my place behind Confused Guy to hand the cashier my Ten….wait, what? the cashier was walking to the other register to help Aggravated Guy! %#(&%@@!!
As the cashier got to the other register with Aggravated Guy, a woman walks in an hands a Twenty over AG’s shoulder, turns and walks out!
All I want to do is hand my Ten over some poor guy’s shoulder so I can get my @#$#$#^ gas and get to work before it’s time to clock out!
Why is this cashier working two registers?! Why is the cashier going to whichever register I’m NOT at?! Does this Einstein think having two registers and only ONE cashier makes the lines move faster?! This idea has sprang into his Giant Gulp numbed mind because he is so awed by the Double Drive-Thru that McDonald’s has cruelly foisted upon us…oh yeah, they want us to think that because we are given two of the big menus to order at that we are somehow going to get to the (SINGLE) money window and on to the (SINGLE) food window faster! Unless they have doubled up on McBurger flippers, McMoney takers, and McBag hander-outers, I don’t think we are gonna get out of there one McSecond faster! Does anyone else see this? Am I the only one? Not to mention now we have to decide which order line to get in, the one with the giant SUV loaded with a bunch of howling kids or do we get behind the Toyota Corolla with the three old Blue Hairs trying to calculate their senior discount? I mean, really, another decision in our already busy lives? Good Lord!
Well, anyway, I finally got my Ten handed over CG’s shoulder and my gas pumped. Since I was already late for work I decided go to McDonald’s for a bite…you get through there so fast these days.