You Know What? The Dick At The Gas Station Is A Dick

OK, so past month or so I've stopped at the gas station on my way to work to gas up on Tuesdays, which are Discount Tuesdays.  So, like other hardworking Americans, I'm in a rush.  I don't think that means that the guy at the other side of the counter has to be a dick.  He knows all of us are just stopping in real quick on our way to work, so why can't he just be polite and courteous with the 30-second conversation we have while I pay for my gasoline?

But I don't.  This fat dude with a mustache and 80s hair threw my credit card and receipt on the counter instead of handing it to me.  The nerve!  How much effort does it take to be a decent Midwestern human being and hand those things over to me?  What the fuck is this, New York?

So when I had to fill up today and saw him, I had low expectations that our interaction was going to be civil.  There was another line for a cash register, and I was hoping I would get her, but I got this guy instead.  I couldn't get out of it, obviously, so I was just going to be as curt as possible and get out of his toxic tentacles ASAP.  I quickly gave him my pump number and showed him my identification after he saw that the back of my credit card said "See I.D."

Looking back, I was surprised that he took the proper discount out of the gas coupon I had for Discount Tuesday.  Don't know why; my problem with him isn't that he is stupid, but he is an asshole.  But I felt my soul kind of open up.  I felt like I was in an emotional shell, and I guess I took him hitting the "20-cent off" button the cash register as a sign of personal warmth or something, because I think I said something to the effect of, "Oh!  So you're not an asshole!  Cool!"

And just as my attitude started to lighten, I guess what amounted to a regular came through the door, and as soon as this guy saw him, he paid attention to him and started ignoring me.  So my hearty "Thanks!" as he handed me my receipt wasn't even fucking acknowledged because, even though he was facing me, he was talking to this dude who was being helped by the cash register down the counter.  And once again, I left humiliated by this dumb motherfucker.

The worst thing about this piece of shit is that he is either the manager or the guy who owns the franchise.  His dumb, fat mug is on the door, for crissake.  So if I go in to fill up my car in the morning to the afternoon, I'm going to have to face this execrable mass.

I think I'll have to gas up either some other time or some other place.