During my graduation internship, I sometimes helped out with tasks that didn’t directly relate to my assignment. One of these tasks was to deliver a completed machine to a client with the little truck the company had.

I had done this once before so I felt comfortable driving it. Near the delivery point, which was about ninety minutes away from the company, the warning light came on that I had to refuel. I was a bit worried since I had not done that before and wondered how different it would be.

Stopping at a pump, I was anxious but still wanted to try and figure it out myself first.

I must have been there for at least ten minutes, circling the little truck, getting increasingly more anxious. I found a small tank, but it seemed way too small and didn’t have that gasoline smell.

There was another bigger tank under the truck bed, but it didn’t have a cap I could screw off; instead, it had a slot for a key. In my mind, this meant it could be dangerous and I could mess up something very badly if I tried to open it without being 100% sure it was what I thought it was.

I was starting to feel more self-conscious about not being able to do this, so I decided to call my internship supervisor for help. They were only able to tell me that the gas tank was on the right side. In hindsight, I could kick myself for not inquiring further since both of my options were on the right side.

I was thinking that potentially I could head into the gas station and ask for help from one of the employees, though this brought on the all too familiar “I don’t wanna be a bother” thoughts.

Time kept on slipping away before I had to bully myself into going into the gas station to ask for help.

I still can barely believe how helpful those employees were, going out of their way and helping me even though they weren’t required to. This very nice employee followed me back out to the little truck and repeated some of the steps I did to determine that the little tank probably wasn’t what I was looking for. He convinced me reassuringly to try and open the bigger tank with one of the keys I had on the keyring. Getting it off, it did have that distinctive smell.

The employee gave me a bit more advice on how I could determine these things in the future and to not worry so much about not knowing it perfectly. He inquired whether I needed any help with actually refueling, but I assured him I could do that.

A little later, coming down from this spike of anxiety, I paid for the gasoline, thanked the employees as wholeheartedly as I could, and went on my way.

I’m extremely thankful for their help, and I am confident that, should I be in a similar situation, I can think back on this event and be able to ask for help more easily.

A customer put a taped credit card into the card slot at the gas pump. It got stuck.

Me: “I have to help another customer, and then I’ll be out to help you try and get it unstuck.”

When I looked out the window, she had pulled her jumper cables out of her trunk to try and use one of them to pull her card out of the machine.

It is the beginning of winter and it’s starting to get very cold at night. One cold day, I realize that my car is very low on gas and go to fill it up at the gas station. When I try to fill it, the automatic stop function keeps turning the gas off after barely putting any in my tank. If I manually hold it, the gas splashes back out of the tank. Some of you may know what is likely happening, but I do not and I call over the gas station attendant.

The gas station attendant tries the same thing I am doing with the same results. He also happens to have a friend filling up, and they both look at the pump and my tank, try some troubleshooting, and chat with each other. Eventually, they come to a conclusion. To preface, they both have accents that lead me to think they are not from the area, and I have no idea if the following is something that happens in other countries or if a language barrier made the communication even stranger.

Gas Station Attendant: “Someone has put something down in your car. Down in the tank. Did you put something there?”

Me: “There is something in my gas tank? No, I definitely didn’t put anything in there.”

I’m thinking maybe they have seen this happen before.

Gas Station Attendant: “Yes. You did not put anything there? No? Perhaps you have… an enemy? Someone who is angry and put something in your car? Do you have any enemies?”

Me: *Even more confused* “No, I don’t think I have any enemies.”

I ended up leaving without gas, and after sharing the story with my family, my dad explained that with the weather change and low fuel level, what had likely happened was that a small amount of water in the tank had frozen and was preventing gas from entering. I had to get rides to school for a few days until it got above freezing. And to my knowledge, I did not have an enemy!

I work at a gas station that sells pizzas. You can either buy a whole pizza or we sell them cut into quarters. It’s late in the day when my manager receives this call.

Customer: “I came in earlier today and I got one of your pieces of pizza and it was absolutely disgusting. It tasted like cardboard.”

Manager: “I’m sorry abou—”

Customer: “I need you guys to make me two whole pizzas to make up for your mistake.”

Manager: “I can offer to either replace the piece or give you a refund, but I’m not going to give you—”

Customer: “Do you even know who this is? I’m [Customer]. I come in there every day and get a piece of pizza, and this is how you are treating me?”

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m not sure who you are. We have a lot of regular customers.”

Customer: “Oh, my God. I come in with [Friend], and we get [Pizza Brand #1] and sit in the cafe and eat. Everyday.”

Manager: “We don’t sell [Pizza Brand #1]. You want the store on—”

Customer: “Don’t lie to me!”

Manager: “We sell [Pizza Brand #2]. Have for over ten years. We’ve never sold [Pizza Brand #1]. The only [Gas Station] that sells that brand is the store on [Street]. Call them.”

The customer huffed and hung up the phone. My manager called the other store and warned them about the upcoming phone call. They just laughed and said they knew who she was, and if there was a problem with her pizza, she should have said something while she was eating it. I don’t think she was going to get her free pizzas.

About a year into my job at a gas station, we join in several other gas stations to switch over to prepay-only pumps. I personally see drive-offs a few times every time I work, so I am happy to see the change. Customers, however, resist the change as much as they can from threatening to not get gas here anymore to getting me to turn on the pump for them because our system still allows it for semi-truck drivers that use special cards to pay.

One day, a lady I have never seen before pulls up to the pump and grabs the nozzle, expecting me to turn on the pump for her. I announce over the speakers the same speech I’ve been giving everyone that won’t read the prepay signs on the pumps and continue to wait on other customers in my line.

She ignores me at first, but she hangs up the nozzle after a minute, makes her way into the store, and starts in at me.

Customer: “Why can’t I get gas outside?”

Me: *Politely* “We’re a prepay-only store now. You’ll have to put money into the pump before getting your gas.”

She seems confused at first, but we get through the transaction; she puts in $30 unleaded onto a debit card and heads out to pump her fuel. She doesn’t put the whole $30 into her vehicle and heads back in to speak to me.

Customer: “I want the cash for the fuel I didn’t use.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I forgot to mention that any unused money is automatically refunded back to the card once the nozzle is hung back up onto the pump. I have no way to give you cash back from the transaction. It may take a day for the refund to appear on your bank statement, but it will be there.”

Customer: *Angry* “Give me the cash back!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, but I can’t do that. It’s refunded automatically. You still have the money; it’s just on your card.”

She leaves the store, and I think I’m done with her. Nope.

I continue with my work, helping customers in the store for several minutes, and I look outside. A cop has pulled up to the woman’s car and she’s talking to him, occasionally pointing at the store, and I already see the headache coming. I tell my coworker to run the register as the cop comes in and asks to speak to me.

Me: “What can I do for you?”

Police Officer: “This customer called us and said you’ve been very rude to her and have refused to give her money back that she didn’t use for her fuel.”

I tell him what happened and how refunds for gas work.

Me: “If you wish, you can come back with me to the cameras to watch the footage.”

Police Officer: “That’s okay. I’ll inform her of what really happened.”

I didn’t see the cop and lady talk as a rush hit the store then, but one of my regulars told me that the lady flipped me off after she got into her car so the cop wouldn’t see her do it.