Out Of Gas And Out Of Patience

(It is the winter in the 70s, when people get their gas ration for the week according to the last number on the license plate. It is around 6am, and I need to drive to the gas station, get around the line of cars waiting, and open the pump. A customer in line starts shouting at me.)

Customer: “Hey! Kid! Quit cutting in the d*** line! I’ve been here an hour in this d*** cold! You can get your d*** gas when I’m done!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, I’ve just got to—”

Customer: “Don’t give me that; quit cutting in the line! Get to the back!”

(The customer proceeds to block his car in. I get out and walk to the pump. Other customers greet me by name, ask about the family, etc. Soon the irate customer pulls up to the pump.)

Customer: “Fill it.”

Me: *hangs the handle up* “I’m sorry, we’re out.”

Customer: “But I’ve been sitting here running my car!”

Me: “You should have thought of that before I had to walk up. Other customers used more gas, too. See you next week!”