One winter night, I was getting gas before a night out with friends. It was freezing cold outside, and I was going to fill my tank, so I set the auto shutoff and went inside to warm up and pay. I ran into a friend inside, and we chatted for a couple of minutes before I paid for my gas.

As I drove away from the pump, I heard a loud scraping sound and a minor crash, and I suddenly realized I had forgotten a very important step.

Me: *Walking sheepishly back into the gas station.* “Um, I think we’ve got a little problem…”

Gas Station Attendant: “What’s wrong?”

I point to the gas pump and… the two feet of torn hose hanging from my gas tank.

Attendant: “Hey, at least you stopped. Most people are so embarrassed they drive off.”

Friend: *Laughs hysterically.*

I have worked most of my adult life in different gas stations, usually in the evenings or overnights, so I’ve seen almost every ridiculous or crazy thing you could imagine. I also know the rules and the laws pretty well, seeing as I’ve been doing this line of work for many years now. This interaction has stuck with me, though.

It was late evening, and it had been pretty slow when this tall dude comes in.

Tall Dude: “Hey! Can I get a charger for [Popular vape] and a can of this [Popular tobacco-less chew]?”

Me: “Sure thing! Got your ID on ya?”

Tall Dude: “Uh… no. But I’m twenty-four! And I have my social security card and insurance on me!”

Me: *Putting everything back.* “Sorry, but I can’t accept either of those. Find your ID, though, and I’ll be more than happy to get those back out for you!”

Tall dude seems to accept this and goes back out to his truck. I notice his girlfriend is in the truck with him, and they talk for a minute. Then the girlfriend comes in

Girlfriend: “I need that charger and that chew. I have a picture of my ID on my phone.”

I don’t even move to pull the items out.

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell them to you. I already denied your friend, and even if I didn’t see y’all talking and you didn’t ask for the same exact thing he did, I can’t accept pictures of IDs.”

Girlfriend: “Well, why not? The gas station down the road lets us all the time, and the cops accept pictures of IDs. We’re both twenty-four. Just sell me the stuff!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not losing my job over a can of chew. Anybody can tell me they’re any age, and I have no way to know if you are telling me the truth or not. Pictures on your phone can be edited really easily.”

The girlfriend huffs and starts poking through her phone. [Tall Dude] has come back in with his social and insurance and is trying to hide behind his girlfriend.

Girlfriend: “Here!” *Shoves her phone in my face.* “This is my Instagram, and this is a post I made on his birthday, specifically saying ‘Happy 24th Birthday, [Tall Dude]!’. You can’t edit Instagram like that! Just sell me the chew already, or I WILL be calling your boss! Jeez! It’s just a job, you are taking it waaaay too seriously!”

I just look at her for a second, hoping against hope that one of them will realize how absolutely ridiculous they sound.

Me: “No. Instagram is not a valid form of ID. At all. If the other gas station wants to accept your pictures of ID, that’s on them, and you can try over there, but I will not be selling anything to y’all. Have a nice night.”

Girlfriend: *Loses it.* “I will be calling your boss, and I hope you lose your pathetic little job, you f****** b****!”

My relief comes in as the couple stomps out, still berating and cussing me out.

Coworker: “What in the h*** happened?”

Me: “Apparently, I’m supposed to accept Instagram as ID now…”

I was running a gas station in the nineties. The town bylaw stated that we had to close at midnight. Doors locked, lights off, registers and gas pumps shut down.

On Wednesdays, we would give a ten-cent discount on premium gas. Had a regular customer who would only come in on Wednesdays, filling up numerous gas cans. One Wednesday night, at ten minutes past midnight, as I was finishing the closing process, he drove in, pulled up to a pump, and tried to come into the store.

Me: “We’re closed.”

Customer: “You need to reopen the store right now so I can get my discount on premium.”

Me: “Okay, pal, that’s not happening. Lights are off, pumps are off, registers are off, we’re closed, end of story.”

Customer: “If you don’t reopen for me right now, I’m gonna call the manager tomorrow and get you fired.”

Me: “Go right the f*** ahead, moron. I’m the manager, that’s my name on the door. I’m not gonna fire myself.”

Customer: “Then you’ll give me the discount in the morning?”

Me: “I absolutely will not. The discount is on Wednesdays, it is now Thursday. By town bylaw, we are closed. You have one minute to get off the property before I call the cops.”

The guy drove off, and I never saw him again after that.

At the gas station where I work, we are required to scan everyone’s ID for age-restricted purchases, no exceptions. This is a company-wide policy and has been for a few years now. Most people don’t have a problem with it, but I had one guy in particular…

Me: “All right, just need to scan your ID.” 

Customer: *Pulling out his ID.* “You know, this is getting a little ridiculous. I’m almost forty!”

Me: “I totally understand, but it’s a policy set by corporate, not us. Do you have a loyalty card?” 

Customer: *Grumbles, ignoring my question.*

I take this to mean he doesn’t, so I tell him his total and to swipe his card. He does, but instead of finishing the transaction, it discounts part of his order. Yep, he’d swiped his loyalty card.

Unfortunately, our registers have an annoying glitch where when someone swipes a loyalty card on the payment screen, it freezes the whole thing, and we have to reboot it.

Me: “I’m sorry, my register just froze; I’ll have to move you down to the next one.”

Customer: “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?!”

I ignore him and restart his transaction on the next register.

Me: “Okay, just need to scan your ID again real quick.”

Customer: “Are you f****** kidding me?!”

I’m completely done with him at this point and just stare until he pulls it out, complaining the whole time. Then I have to manually put in his discounts, irritating him even more. Finally, I’m able to get him out the door, and I give him my biggest, fakest customer service smile on his way out.

According to my coworker, he’s always like this. I can’t imagine wasting my life being so miserable all the time.

Two guys came up to me while I was gassing up my car.

Guy #1: “Hey, do you know what the plastic tip of a shoelace is called?”

Me: “I do; it’s called an aglet.”

Guy #2: *To [Guy #1]* “See, b****, I told you!”

They went inside, and I finished putting gas in my car. Just as I was about to leave, [Guy #2] stopped me, gave me a Snickers bar, and left.