Got gas?

Before self-checkout at the big box stores, we had self-serve gas pumps. Hubby and I have our preferences, although we each buy gas at either place. Last weekend. I could not find my favorite when the tank screamed “empty” so I swung into hubby’s favorite. On every single tank dangled a sheet of paper declaring, “Out of regular and premium gas.” I swung out of that station and went to one neither of us favored.. Twice I did the credit card swipe to release the gas. It refused to recognize my card. I hung up the hose and went inside. The clerk studied the situation, her fingers on the cash register. “Hmmm, looks like the hose is not hung up right.” She ran out and fixed it so the cash register would approve my card. Later, I had to again choose one of Hubby’s favorites to insure a full tank before a long drive. The station had lots of bays, each with at least one customer waiting their turn. I joined the queue and waited. And waited. I overheard someone say, “the pumps are slow today.”Finally, the customer pulled away and I pulled forward. I inserted my credit card. Nothing happened. I made sure I punched all the right keys. The screen said, “select fuel and start filling.” I pulled the handle for fuel. Nothing happened. I inserted deeper and squeezed. I twisted it sideways and squeezed. Nothing. I canceled the transaction and started all over. Nothing. After the third time with no gas flow, I walked over to the store.“I can’t get it to pump gas.”The clerk walked over confidently, “That screen needs to be replaced.” She made sure I entered my credit card information correctly and walked away knowing it would work.It didn’t.I went inside to report the problem.“Let me do a prepay, that will do it,” she accepted my credit card and my request for $30 worth of gas.I returned to the pump, assuming it would work.It didn’t.I went back inside, “Still no gas.” “Come on over to pump seven. I will switch the prepay to that pump,” she said.Sounded good, except a big truck sat there being filled. I parked behind it and waited.Once he hung up the hose, the owner said, “Can you back up? That other truck is in my way.”I thought I was supposed to go next. But I backed up my four-door sedan and the monster truck barged forward before I could pull forwarding.I pulled around to the now open eighth gas pump. I was not about to start the whole credit card thing again when I had already paid for gas. I went back inside looking for the clerk. She had disappeared. Holding the receipt, I waited for her to reappear. I preferred to not have to explain everything all over again.She came back.“ Another guy drove in, so I am at number eight,” I said.“I know. He pumped your gas. He didn’t use the full amount. He paid for the gas. Some of the money went back to your credit card. I will switch the rest over to pump no. 8.” (That is the shortened version of our much longer conversation.)I went out and finally began pumping gas. It flowed so slowly that I watched the gas price change penny by penny. Eventually I used up all the prepaid gas money and left.Fortunately I did not need to buy anymore gas until I arrived home. I made sure we went to my favorite gas station to buy it. I had had enough of Hubby’s gas station for a while.Joan Hershberger may be reached at joanh864@gmail.com