April 24th, 2009

me

Tales of woe from a petrol station

Happened today at a small, independent (or, according to the sign outside: Independant) petrol station in a largish village in East Yorkshire.

When I pulled up ( I was the only car there), the attendant was standing outside smoking and talking on her cellphone (are you even supposed to smoke on the forecourt?). She gave me a fed-up look, put out her cig and went inside ready to serve me.

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Here I was tempted to reply either
a) Sure, I couldn't be worse at it than you or
b) No, because you are being paid to do this job, and I'm not.
But instead I just took out 32.12 UKpounds in cash, handed them to her, and walked out, before I lost it and said something that would have made me a very sucky customer indeed.

I wish I were making this up, I really do.