I’m young and female. I’m fueling up at a nearby gas station. I am completely minding my own business and have made no indication whatsoever that I need any type of help. It’s worth noting that I’m the only female currently pumping gas; all the other customers at the other pumps are male.

The gas station attendant comes over and instantly gives me “creepy” vibes. He tells me I’m pumping gas wrong, takes the gas nozzle out of my hand, and proceeds to demonstrate the “right” way to pump gas — which involves tilting the nozzle a grand total of ten degrees to the side and using both hands on the handle. This is something I can’t do as my left hand is full with my wallet and keys due to women’s clothing lacking any form of pockets.

Attendant: “You’re spraying gas all over the ground, and you’re going to get it all over yourself. This is how you need to pump gas.”

Me: “Yeah, there’s so much gas on the ground already.”

The attendant looks down. The ground is literally bone dry; there isn’t a drop of gas on it.

Attendant: “There’s no gas on the ground.”

Me: “That’s my point.”

Attendant: “You have an attitude problem. I’m just trying to help you.”

Me: “I don’t have an attitude problem; you do. I never asked for any help.”

Attendant: “You have a major attitude. I’m only trying to help here!”

The gas pump shuts off as it has filled my tank. Luckily, I wanted a full tank. But if I had wanted to stop after twenty dollars, for example, I wouldn’t have been able to since he took over pumping. The attendant also hangs up the nozzle himself, which fails to give me the option for a receipt.

Attendant: “And you should put your keys and wallet in the car when you’re done with them so you can use both hands on the handle. You should be glad I’m preventing you from getting gas all over yourself.”

Me: “My door locks automatically after so much time; I’m not about to lock myself out.”

Attendant: “Geesh, what’s your problem? I’m only helping!”

Me: “Next time, ask if the person wants help.”

He left at that point, muttering something I didn’t hear under his breath. I left, too. When I got home, I immediately filed a complaint with the gas station’s company. I only got a form letter in response; I have no idea if they took further action that I wasn’t privy to.

I work at a car wash.

Customer: “Excuse me! I just thought I would let you know that the vacuum isn’t working. I would like the seventy-five cents it took back.”

Me: “The one with the out-of-order sign?”

Customer: “Yes.”

Me: “The one with the tape over the coin slot that had to be removed before putting any money in?”

Customer: *Huffy* “Yes! Do you have a point?”

Me: “Just checking. Let me get that refund for you.”

I had been working at a petrol station for roughly three months. It was a part-time job around university, but as it was summer I could work extra hours, so I was pretty proud that after just three months, I was trained up to work the closing shifts by myself. This wasn’t a problem; I loved the responsibility and I’m good at what I do. However, I’d still never had to handle a customer threatening to report me whilst I was on my own.

The petrol station closes at 11:00 pm and I was scheduled to finish at 11:15 pm as most of the work could be done while still serving customers. At 11:00 pm, I had locked up everything except the one pump that was pay-at-the-pump; customers could choose to use their card there or to pay at the kiosk. I went in the back to do the last paperwork and lock the safe up. I came out of the back at about 11:10 pm and saw a middle-aged man getting irate at the one pump that didn’t have a padlock hanging from the handle. I still don’t know how he didn’t notice.

I unlocked the shop door and went out to talk to him.

Me: *Politely* “We closed at 11:00, sir. I can’t serve you, and now I need to lock the pump.”

He huffed, and I was expecting to hear something about how the pump was unlocked so he should be able to use it. But no, his first comment was:

Customer: “But the lights inside the shop are on.”

This was a supermarket petrol station that sat apart from the main superstore. The main store closed at 10:00 pm, but the main electrics are all linked, so as there was a night shift working in the main store, the lights in both places were on. It’s not environmentally friendly but just how it worked.

Me: *Still politely* “Sir, the store is closed; there are only workers—”

Customer: *Cutting me off* “No, the lights in the petrol station are still on. That’s misleading! It made me think you were open. They should be off.”

I looked back at the kiosk that I’d just walked out of and managed to stutter:

Me: “Well, yes, because I’m still in there to lock up.”

He immediately started to lecture me that it was illegal to mislead customers like that, and he couldn’t seem to understand that the lights had to be on so that the staff could finish their work. He was insistent that he was going to file a complaint with the highest authority that he could find.

I don’t know if he ever did, but I can imagine he would’ve been laughed out of the store for suggesting we should have to work in the dark.

I stopped by a gas station at about two o’clock in the morning. I filled up my bike in a howling gale and driving rain, took £20 out of my pocket, and walked inside to pay.

Cashier: “Take your helmet off now!”

Me: “I’ve got the cash here for pump number three, £7.00.”

Cashier: “You’ve got to take your helmet off.”

Me: “I’m soaked and it’s pouring with rain. Here’s the cash.”

Cashier: “TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF OR I’M CALLING THE POLICE!”

Me: “Call them.”

I stood back and waited.

After ten minutes, the police arrived. The cashier went on a big rant about me coming in and not removing my crash helmet.

Officer: *To me* “Can you tell us what happened?”

Me: “I just walked in holding out a £20 note, ready to pay a £7 fuel bill.”

Cashier: “He has to remove his helmet; it’s for safety and to stop thieves.”

Officer: “Would you remove your helmet, please, sir?”

Me: “You are asking me to undress in public, but okay. These are the rules: I will remove my helmet and offer him this £20 note. If he doesn’t take it, I’m leaving. Fair enough?”

The police officer looked at me as though I was an idiot but said:

Officer: “Okay, sir.”

I undid the outer cuffs of my waterproof suit, removed my outer waterproof gloves, undid the inner cuffs, and removed my inner gloves. I then unfastened my helmet and removed it, revealing a full-face silk balaclava.

I held my hand out to the cashier with the £20 in it.

He spluttered a bit and shouted:

Cashier: “TAKE THAT OFF, AS WELL!”

Me: “Nope, you said in front of these two police officers that I had to remove my helmet. I did. I offered you the cash; you refused it. Good night. Officer, I did what you said and removed my helmet. I offered him money, and he would not take it. I’m leaving.”

I walked out and got dressed, leaving the cashier shouting at the police. Nothing came of my malicious compliance.

Related:
Shut Up And Take My Money! Part 2
Shut Up And Take My Money!

Customer: “I paid for a twenty-four-ounce coffee, but it wasn’t even filled halfway! It was filled maybe eight ounces!”

I could have stressed to the customer that the coffee is only a dollar, or that half of twenty-four is twelve, but instead, I had to go with the most obvious rebuttal to this stupid complaint:

Me: “Sir, you fill your own cup.”

The customer glared and stormed off. As a human, I remain confused… but as a gas station attendant, I am not surprised.