When I was in college, I worked evening shifts at a gas station. I typically worked at least four nights a week and would be the only employee on shift at that time because most of the night was too slow to warrant more than one staff member. That being said, there were some rushes, typically at the start of the shift when day-shifters got off work and came in for gas and about three-quarters of the way through my shift when overnight workers were stopping for coffee before heading into work.

As this shift was primarily worked by me, and I was a reliable employee, when we had new employees start who would work my nights off, it was my job to train them.

On one such occasion, after a couple of weeks of training [New Hire], my boss let me know that she wanted to make the transition to the new hire working alone. With this in mind, I was asked to essentially not work for the last evening of training her and to only observe and be available for questions. This allowed [New Hire] to get a feel for what the shift would be like alone while still having me as a safety net, and it let me see if she was really ready to work alone and report back to my boss.

The problem with this was that I really struggled with not jumping in to help. I could appreciate the benefit of just letting her figure it out unless there was a big issue, but in practice, I just wanted to take over because A: I wanted things done right, and B: it was really boring just observing.

Knowing this, my coworker who was on the shift before me and [New Hire] hung around to chat for a while after her shift and encourage me to let [New Hire] handle the initial rush. This is where we met the second problem with this plan: I still had to keep an eye on things, and there are only so many places to do that from, so I was still behind the counter near a second register with a closed sign up.

Customers understandably saw me there and expected me to assist and/or thought I was being a lazy “kid” just talking to my coworker. I tried to politely redirect people, letting them know my register was closed and the other employee would assist. I even said a couple of times that I was just training and there to answer questions as some snide remarks were made.

Finally, one customer decided he was going to make me do my job, I guess. He walked up to the register next to me, pushed the closed sign out of the way, and deposited his items on the counter. He didn’t say a single word but made it clear he was not moving.

Trying to not make a big deal of it, I just quickly checked him out in hopes I could put the sign back and keep directing people to [New Hire], but the damage was done. Most of the line moved over to my side, including people I had already directed to [New Hire].

I understand why people thought I should be running a register, but really, if a register is closed, you don’t get to decide to open it or decide what the employee’s job is at that given time.

When I was in high school, I worked at a gas station — one of the ones that pumped gas, washed windows, and checked oil, and had a garage and a car wash. We had to wear uniforms, so we all looked the same.

Directly next door was a veterinary office, with a prominent sign on the main road and on the building itself. A customer pulled in while a few of us were standing in the parking area directly in front of the office. She rolled down the window.

Customer: “Do you know where the vet’s business is?”

I don’t know why this occurred to me, but we were teens and egging each other on.

Me: “Take a left at the end of the parking lot and then the immediate left after that. Then take a left just after the first house and look for the parking lot on the left.”

We all stood in the same circle in the parking lot, right in front of the office, and waited about a minute until she pulled up from the other side.

We all just stood there watching her as she parked. She never even acknowledged our presence.

I had just started working at a gas station, and someone was paying for part of their purchase with a gift card. I had never done that, so I called a shift lead over to help me. We used the remaining $60.39 on the card and the customer paid cash for the rest.

The next day when I got there, I heard the manager talking with the general manager.

Manager: “We’re missing $60.39 from yesterday’s tills.”

Me: “Oh, that must be from the gift card transaction I did yesterday.”

I explained.

Manager: “What did you do with the gift card?”

Me: “I threw it away since it was empty.”

Manager: “What?! You’re not supposed to do that!”

General Manager: “You should’ve asked for help if you didn’t know how to do something!”

Me: “I did. [Shift Lead] helped me.”

Manager: “Go out and dig through the dumpster and find that card!”

I was in there for like thirty minutes before I realized that I did not need to take that for a job paying $7.50 per hour, and ‘twas my last day.

We always have deals on soda. Right now, we have one where you can buy one Mountain Dew for $1.99 or two for $3.00. I always end up having this conversation.

Customer: “The sign said two for $3.00!”

Me: “Yeah…”

Customer: “But you’re trying to charge me $1.99.”

Me: “How many sodas do you have?”

Customer: “One.”

Me: “And that’s how much one costs.”

I love seeing the anger switch to the realization that they’re the idiot who didn’t read the sign.

Content Warning: Death

My father was in a bad car accident on the thirteenth of February, and unfortunately, we had to take him off of life support on the fourteenth. As I lived closest and my family lived three hours away, I got to the hospital first and had to deal with answering the same questions over and over from my family.

I’ve taken off work, and so has my partner so that he can support me. He lost his grandfather last Saturday, so it’s not been the best of weeks. I haven’t eaten for most of the day as I’ve been too worried about my dad and too focused on what had to happen.

Finally, we head home from the hospital. I realize I need to eat something, so we stop at a popular gas station that makes good sandwiches to order. After placing our order, I kind of just stand there, full zombie mode engaged. I just want my sandwich, a good cry, and sleep.

The man behind the counter decides my face doesn’t look cheerful enough.

Employee: “You should smile! You’ll be much prettier if you smile!”

I absolutely hate this day and literally have no filter left.

Me: “I just took my father off life support and he died. I’m not in the mood to fricking smile.”

All color drained from the employee’s face, and he just shut his mouth and look back to what he had been working on. My partner thought this was hilarious and wouldn’t let me feel bad about ripping the guy a new one.