Tuesday, June 20, 2017

The lights were on but no one was pumping

It's not uncommon when filling up your car late at night to meet some pretty disinterested petrol attendants. However last night I didn't meet one of those...in fact for a while there was no one there at all...

Ahh, hello?

I have three regular places where I fill up on the way home after my radio night shift is done and dusted, all at various points on my journey home. 
The first one is only a few blocks from work if I know there's barely a whisper of fuel left in the wagon's tank and more than likely I'm driving on vapours. 
The second one is halfway home and I head there when I believe I won't have enough juice to cruise through the back half of the ride home. 
The third one is conveniently right near my house and at the bottom of a hill so if I run out of petrol at the top of the roundabout, I'll just coast down and fill up there. Well that's the theory anyway - so far thankfully I haven't had to do this. 

Last nights adventure was at the second one - the fuel light announced it's presence just before I hit the freeway and I figured rather than attempt to squeeze out the last drop, I'd throw some fuel in the tank - at least enough for the next couple of days (especially at the prices last night...I'm happy to fuel up again later this week when the price drops.) 
So I rolled in to the brightly lit service station, picked my pump, put in the nozzle, squeezed and...

Okay so the guy manning the store hadn't activated that pump. I'll give it a minute. 
Click. Nothing. Click.
I looked over to the station and couldn't see anyone in there. Okay then, maybe they're stacking shelves or helping someone. I'll give it another minute.
Click. No petrol. 
Okay this is going well. 

Why won't you work?

At this time a guy driving a souped up Ford Focus RS rumbled in and parked at the next bowser, obviously in need or some more juice to rip apart some more unsuspecting back roads. He found the same problem I had, nothing was coming out of the pumps.

'I really don't think there's anyone here to activate the pumps mate' I called over unhelpfully. 

He nodded and walked over to the store to find someone who could give us the precious petrol to get home. However when he got to the doors, they remained closed. The lights were on, the doors just weren't letting anyone through.
A woman in a 4X4 rolled up and was quite unimpressed by the lack of service. As was the guy who just got a lift to the shop to get some munchies.

'You're f##king joking mate!' he exclaimed before wandering off into the night. 
Welcome to the first service station without anyone there for actual service. While waiting indefinitely I mentioned to the guy with the Focus that I loved the look of his car (I did actually, it sounded mental and with it's custom front mounted intercooler and other bits and pieces it really did look and sound the business) he thanked me and exclaimed that it was the best car he'd ever owned. It was then when I noticed that he was wearing a shirt with only one button done up. 
Either he was so excited about driving the thing that he barely remembered how to dress himself or he had no money to pour into an outfit, having spent his last cent on the car.   

No money for buttons when driving this thing!

After what seemed like an ice age, our small group heard an argument coming from the back of the shop and then a lone attendant rolled up, completely nonplussed over the small horde now forming at the door. Figuring he would finally realise we weren't there for his autograph and he'd finally released his iron grip on the pumps we walked back our cars and happily found the petrol was now flowing. 
However he wasn't happy with what was going on at the pump on the other side of me.

'To the girl using pump seven, you can't use your phone and the pump at the same time!' he barked over the loudspeaker. 
Oh good, he's in a grumpy mood. 

However when I went to pay, he seemed rather jovial. No explanation though at about what had gone on. Not even an admission of having to go the toilet and locking up the place because no one was around or blaming the delay on a lazy co-worker out the back. As far as he was concerned, it's perfectly natural to disappear for a time with no explanation. 
Maybe next time a simple sign on the door would suffice?


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