Dad Is Applauding From The Great Gas Station In The Sky

My dad owned an independent gas station. When he passed away, I ended up taking it over and running it.

In comes a customer with that particular swagger of somebody who “knows” that he’s getting his way. I carefully brace myself for the upcoming battle and put on a professionally friendly expression. He comes up to my register and tells me that he’s a good friend of [Father] and he always gets a discount.

All professional pleasantry drains from my face and I give him an ice-cold look.

Me: “You’re a liar. Please leave.”

He turns an interesting shade and roars that he’ll have my job.

Me: “First of all, you couldn’t handle my job. Second of all, [Father] was my father. Third of all, my father died four years ago, and all of his friends attended his funeral. So, no, you are not his friend and you will not be getting a discount.”

I almost wish I could translate the choked noises coming from the back of his throat to text. He turned some interesting colors, and then he fled at top speed and I haven’t seen him come back.