11 2004 |
I was in a hurry, trying to get to work, so I didn't pay much attention to it. I got out, and started to open my gas-cap.
An older grease-monkey approached, and asked "fill'er up?" I was taken aback -- who has heard of a full-service gas station these days? In my confusion, I said, "yeah."
This was followed by sitting in my car, counting my cash to see if I could afford a full tank. I had only planned on putting $10 in -- but the question fill'er up stumped me. Can you say, "no"? I suppose I could have said "just ten bucks, thanks," but that would have taken a presence of mind only someone in anticipation of a full-service pump would know.
As I totalled my cash (I had enough), the pumpboy disappeared. Do I stop the pump when it's full? Am I allowed to touch it, or will full-service wrath befall me? Where do I pay -- pay him, or go inside? So, I washed my own windshield...or was he going to do that when he returned? I was out of my element, unsure of what to do.
At around 11 gallons, he reappeared and waited the last few seconds until the pump snapped off. He topped it off, getting the round price of $24. I counted out my bills, a twenty and four singles, and drove off.
Crap -- was I supposed to tip him? Fuck -- I can't go back there again, can I? I'm in a tip-based service industry myself: I remember the customers that leave no gratuity. Now that I did cross a line, spurring the full-service wrath, I best watch my step from here on out.