For the SECOND time, the unintelligable gas station attendant at the BP near my house fucked me over. No, literally bent me over my car with his sneakly prowess for undermining innocent customers.
Let me preface this with I rarely stop at that BP because it's always overpriced and crowded, but I was running late this morning, so it left me no choice.
The only pump open was Full Service, and I didn't have the time or patience to maneuver into Self to wait, so I pulled up.
And there he was. My nemesis.
A cocksucker with a clipboard.
"$15, Regular, Unleaded please."We stare at each other for a moment intensely like two gun fighters in a western showdown.
He says, "Will that be cash or credit?"
I hear, "I'm about to fuck you big time."
He fills the tank as some jackass behind me inches closer to my bumper. The station is packed and I need to get on the road to work. I hear "Lanes blocked at Stockton & LaSalle due to an earlier accident" on the radio.
I sigh defeatedly as the attendant walks up to my window and shoves a crumpled receipt into my hands.
"Thanks", I mutter and shift to drive to try and catch the light at Clark & North. By the time I uncrumple the receipt, I am already speeding down Lake Shore Drive with the rest of the morning commuters.
"$45.50!!!???"
That motherfucker got me again.
I drive a Toyota Scion XB. It clearly does not need premium gas. Hell, I could fill it with lawnmower clippings and it would run. The most I ever pay to fill up is $25, if that. My knuckles turn white against my black steering wheel.
At this point I am pissed and shove the crumpled receipt back into my purse. I drive angry all the way to work.
And it's raining. And traffic blew on the Stevenson. And now I'm at the office and someone drank my Vitamin Water.
Fuck you, October 16, 2007.
I'm done with you.
June 2018
7 years ago
