In the U.S., New Jersey is the only state where motorists are prohibited by law from pumping their own gasoline. I need that kind of joy in my life!
Last summer, I had a long-awaited medical appointment and on the way there, I stopped to get gas. I paid at the pump with my card and started the process. When I tried to stop pumping, the lever was stuck and I could not get the gas to stop flowing. Foolishly, I pulled the hose out thinking that would stop it. Wrong! Gas sprayed all over me and my clothes. I quickly went inside to get help from the clerk. She sighed, reluctantly came to the door and looked out. She just said, “It’ll stop and your card is not being charged,” before going back behind her counter. She was not at all concerned that gallons of gasoline had spilled all over the ground, a hazard for sure, or that I was drenched. Even though I was soaked from head to toe and reeked of gas, I didn’t have time to go home and change so I proceeded to my doctor appointment. The people in the waiting room and medical staff were very understanding. But I could not wait to get out of there.
Now, it would be a dream come true to have a nice gas station attendant pump my gas, clean the windows and check the oil.
Another time at the same gas station, I only had a few minutes left in my lunch hour and had purchased an egg salad sandwich I planned to eat at the office. On my way back to the car, I looked down and saw that a big part of my sandwich was covered in blue and green mold. I went back in and the same clerk from my gas spill incident said, “That’s what you get for buying a gas station sandwich.” No apology, no offer of a refund or another sandwich, nothing. I thought about reporting her to the manager, but then learned she was the manager. Needless to say, I no longer go to that particular station.
I would love to never have to get out of my car at a gas station. When I was a kid, I remember when my dad would stop at a filling station with all of us in the car. An attendant on duty would not only fill the tank, but clean all the windows and check the oil. He would then smile, and tap on the hood to indicate we were good to go. By the way, there were no credit card purchases. My dad just handed him cash and said, “Fill ‘er up, please.”
Once we left the gas station, we would sometimes head to the A&W, where a young lady on roller skates would take our order and bring our hot dogs, fries and root beer right to the car. We never had to get out. Score!
Yes, those were the good old days and now, it would be a dream come true to have a nice gas station attendant pump my gas, clean the windows and check the oil. Seniors, people who are mildly disabled, parents with small children and others would be relieved and grateful. I would even bring cash.
