Most people get road rage...
Jul. 27th, 2005 01:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senoritafishI get gas station rage. I'm going to have to start avoiding small Arco stations. Every time I have a bad experience at a gas station, it's at one of those.
First there was this incident (my, venomous, aren't I?).
A few months ago, I was at the one at HB Central Park. The machine refused to take my cash, so I went inside and gave the woman behind the counter my last remaining bills. Not much, probably enough to get me to work and back. I put in my gas, the pump clicked off, and I looked up at the meter and saw a dollar less than what I'd given her. I went inside to see what had happened, and she told me, "No, you only gave me this much." I had counted it before I gave it to her, and it certainly wasn't in my pocket anymore. I was so mad, I forgot the nozzle was still my gas tank and drove off - I'm very lucky I didn't rip it off or I would have been out even more.
Then yesterday, I stopped on the way to work. All the pumps on one side were full so I pulled around to where a single car appeared to be finishing up. It was a white Buick LeSabre convertible, a little shabby looking (but I'm a fine one to talk, the Trooper is covered with dust and bird crap because I park under a tree). A blonde woman was sitting in the passenger seat smoking, and finally the driver comes out of the convenience store. He opens the door and then stands there digging around in his pockets. He pulls out his smokes and a lighter, looks at them for moment, then starts fiddling about in his pockets again. Then he looks around the seat, then in the door pocket. Pulls out a cigarette, sticks it in his mouth, and digs in his pockets again. Dig, dig, dig. This goes on for a full five minutes. I wouldn't mind if he's lost something, but he's parked right between two pumps, so nobody else can use either of them. The guy on the other side of the island is even looking at him and shaking his head. I haven't said anything to him, but as the other guy leaves, having been there half as long as the guy in the Buick, he accidently touches his horn as he leaves, and Mr. Digger, finally in the seat with the engine running, turns around and flips me off.
I pull up to the pump (leaving enough room for someone behind me), he swerves around behind me, and dammit, I should have kept my mouth shut, but I say loudly, "Yeah, thanks very much for the bird, I wasn't the one that honked!"
"Well, I'm sooorrry!" he yells back, not sounding sorry at all.
"And you were taking up two freakin' pumps!" I retort, whereupon I get the bird again, and he and his passenger roar off with much shrieking of tires.
I could have handled it better, I suppose, asked "did you lose something? Can I help you find it? would you mind moving ahead a little?" instead of just sitting there getting irritable.
But today, I'd just rather think he's an idiot.
First there was this incident (my, venomous, aren't I?).
A few months ago, I was at the one at HB Central Park. The machine refused to take my cash, so I went inside and gave the woman behind the counter my last remaining bills. Not much, probably enough to get me to work and back. I put in my gas, the pump clicked off, and I looked up at the meter and saw a dollar less than what I'd given her. I went inside to see what had happened, and she told me, "No, you only gave me this much." I had counted it before I gave it to her, and it certainly wasn't in my pocket anymore. I was so mad, I forgot the nozzle was still my gas tank and drove off - I'm very lucky I didn't rip it off or I would have been out even more.
Then yesterday, I stopped on the way to work. All the pumps on one side were full so I pulled around to where a single car appeared to be finishing up. It was a white Buick LeSabre convertible, a little shabby looking (but I'm a fine one to talk, the Trooper is covered with dust and bird crap because I park under a tree). A blonde woman was sitting in the passenger seat smoking, and finally the driver comes out of the convenience store. He opens the door and then stands there digging around in his pockets. He pulls out his smokes and a lighter, looks at them for moment, then starts fiddling about in his pockets again. Then he looks around the seat, then in the door pocket. Pulls out a cigarette, sticks it in his mouth, and digs in his pockets again. Dig, dig, dig. This goes on for a full five minutes. I wouldn't mind if he's lost something, but he's parked right between two pumps, so nobody else can use either of them. The guy on the other side of the island is even looking at him and shaking his head. I haven't said anything to him, but as the other guy leaves, having been there half as long as the guy in the Buick, he accidently touches his horn as he leaves, and Mr. Digger, finally in the seat with the engine running, turns around and flips me off.
I pull up to the pump (leaving enough room for someone behind me), he swerves around behind me, and dammit, I should have kept my mouth shut, but I say loudly, "Yeah, thanks very much for the bird, I wasn't the one that honked!"
"Well, I'm sooorrry!" he yells back, not sounding sorry at all.
"And you were taking up two freakin' pumps!" I retort, whereupon I get the bird again, and he and his passenger roar off with much shrieking of tires.
I could have handled it better, I suppose, asked "did you lose something? Can I help you find it? would you mind moving ahead a little?" instead of just sitting there getting irritable.
But today, I'd just rather think he's an idiot.
