After a string of drive-offs — asking the cashier to turn a gas dispenser on, pumping the gas, and then driving off without paying — the gas station I work at institutes a new policy where a customer wishing to pay inside after pumping needs to leave some form of payment or their keys. They can’t leave their ID as they can easily drive off without it and simply go to the DMV to get a replacement. Everyone is okay with this policy except one “special” customer.

Customer: “Turn pump one on for me.”

Me: “Were you going to prepay or just pump and pay after?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t know how much I want so I want to pump first.”

Me: “Our pumps allow you to pay outside, as well.”

Customer: “I don’t trust those things.”

Me: “Fair enough! The options available would be to either leave your keys or some form of payment.”

Customer: “I’ll leave my license.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that’s not one of the available options.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “We’ve had people drive off without their license. Leaving your keys or a form of payment, preferably cash, insures the gas will be paid for.”

Customer: “This is ridiculous. I’m here all the time, always around this time.”

For context, even though I’ve only been here a few months, I usually always work the same shift.

Me: “I’m usually always working this shift at this time. I’ve never seen you before and your vehicle does not look familiar. I don’t know you so I’m not allowed to turn on the pump without your keys or payment.”

Customer: “Whatever.”

The customer goes back to his car and comes back in.

Customer: “Here.”

He throws an old-looking debit card on the counter.

Customer: “You said a form of payment, so there you go. Turn on the pump now.”

Me: “I should also let you know that if the card doesn’t work, and you have no alternate form of payment, the police will get involved quickly.”

Customer: “Are you threatening me?”

Me: “No, just merely stating facts. If you don’t pay for the gas, you will be getting a visit from the police. There are cameras everywhere and you’re on at least three right now.”

Customer: “Whatever!”

He throws his keys at me.

Customer: “Now turn it on. I’m not going anywhere.”

Me: *Overly cheerful* “Thank you! See you in a bit!”

He did end up paying, but not before causing a scene in front of a store packed with other paying customers, all of whom agreed with me that the right thing to do is ask for some assurance they will pay.

A coworker accidentally locks her keys inside her car while at a gas station. Luckily, she has her cell phone to call for help, but while she’s waiting for help to arrive, someone approaches her.

Stranger: “Could you please move your car out of the way so I can get gas?”

Coworker: “I’m sorry, but I’ve locked my keys inside—”

Stranger: “Okay, but can you still move your car so I can use the pump?”

I am a female cashier. I’m the only one working in the front, while my coworker is in the back stocking. I am supposed to have help, but my help went home sick early, so I have a good six hours working alone in the front.

At 7:00 pm, I close the bathroom for the night and put up the, “SORRY, I AM BEING CLEANED; PLEASE BE PATIENT!” sign. We don’t have an “OUT OF ORDER” sign or a “CLOSED, SORRY” sign.

Somewhere around 8:00 or 9:00 pm, a customer and his girlfriend walk in to use the bathroom.

Customer: “Is the bathroom being cleaned?”

Me: “It is out of order.”

Customer: “Then put up an ‘Out of Order’ sign so people know.”

Me: “We only have one sign, sir, but it’s out of order.”

Customer: “We have been waiting for this bathroom for ten minutes and it says being cleaned. You need to put an ‘Out of Order’ sign up if they are out of order.”

Me: “This is the only sign we have. I don’t have an ‘Out of Order’ sign.”

Customer: “So write a new sign. Let me take it down.”

Me: “We have a policy against handwritten signs.”

Customer: “That seems unlikely. Never? No handwritten signs? Ever? This is the second time I have had an attitude from you. You don’t remember me? I had an issue with you before.”

Me: “I don’t remember you.”

Customer: “I’m [Customer]. I come in here all the time. You don’t remember me? Really? Wow.”

Me: “I don’t remember you.”

Customer: “You wouldn’t sell me beer even though I am twenty-seven years old. I sent my girlfriend in and you wouldn’t sell it to her. I shouldn’t need ID; I am an adult.”

Me: “It’s the store policy. I am not selling to anyone without ID.”

Customer: “Well, you will. You will remember me this time. I want your name and corporate’s number. I am going to call about you. I didn’t say anything then, but I am now. I am going to call. My name is [Customer]; remember that. Do you remember her, [Girlfriend], my girlfriend? Do you? Because you will. You had an attitude last time.”

He starts talking to her in Spanish, which I can understand a little bit of. I am just standing there hiccupping, tears running down my face, probably looking like a giant f****** toddler. I just can’t stop crying, and when he talks to me, it gets worse. I feel like I am three steps away from a panic attack.

My coworker comes out from the back.

Coworker: “You need to leave.”

My coworker picks up the phone and goes into the back. The customer calls after him.

Customer: “Oh, your coworker needs you, coward.”

Me: “I was trying to be nice. Please go.”

Customer: “You can change this meeting. You can change it. You had the bad attitude and now you want to change it? That is on you.”

At this point, his girlfriend finally says something.

Customer’s Girlfriend: “Let’s go.”

The customer flips his switch like he has three personalities.

Customer: “Hey, hey, I am not going to call. What do you want? What would make this better?”

I am sobbing now and telling him to, please, just leave.

Customer: “Hey, I won’t call. I am not going to call. See, I am not going to. Here, you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

More incoherent sobbing on my part.

Customer: “Here, go on a date tomorrow and calm down. Take them out somewhere nice.”

He suddenly offers me money!

Me: “I don’t want it.”

Customer: “No, here, take the money. You look like you need a break. It will help you be—”

Customer’s Girlfriend: “Let’s go.”

He put $40 on the counter and left.

They stood outside the door talking for a few minutes. I hope she was yelling at him. Then, the police showed up because my coworker had called them.

I hate work sometimes.

It is New Year’s Day and I am working the early morning shift at my Gas Station. We are situated next to a strip mall that has a small police office attached to it.

A woman walks in, who has obviously been partying pretty hard. She’s still in her party outfit, hair is a mess, make-up smudged, and she’s walking a bit haphazardly.

Customer: “Yeah… could I get a burger?”

Me: “We don’t serve burgers; we’re just a gas station.”

Customer: “This is a gas station?”

She had to walk past all the pumps to get inside here.

Me: “…yes. There’s a burger place in the strip mall but as it’s New Year’s Day I am not sure they’re open.”

Customer: “It’s New Year’s Day?”

Me: “…Maybe you need more help than I can offer? There’s a New York State Trooper office just opposite us.”

Customer: “I’m in New York?”

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I’m on a business trip with a colleague. I’m not very experienced with travelling, while he has been all over Europe due to work or pleasure.

Soon after we leave the car rental, the tire pressure alert on our rented car goes off. We stop at the first gas station on the road. The attendant, a young, mild-mannered man, comes out of the shack to greet us.

Attendant: “Hello. Do you need petrol or diesel?”

Colleague: “Hello. Neither. Our tank is full, but is it possible to check the tire pressure?”

Attendant: “No problem.”

He goes inside the shack, returns with the pressure gauge hose, fits it to the column, and starts checking the tires. I’m embarrassed that he’s doing all this for free, since pressure checking is complimentary and we’re not buying gas. During our entire exchange, the attendant is polite and smiling.

Attendant: “All in order. Anything else?”

Me: “Yeah, is it possible to get two coffees at the bar?”

I figure that if I pay for the coffees, I can at least leave a tip for the work on the tires. We get inside the bar and the attendant prepares two coffees using a small espresso machine, of the kind you find in households.

Me: “How much for the coffees?”

Attendant: “Nothing. Coffee is free.”

Me: “Oh, come on. Do you at least have a tip jar?”

Attendant: “No, really. There’s no need. It’s on the house. It’s fine.”

Stranger and stranger. I’m puzzled by this, but my colleague seems fine with it and I don’t want to drag this for long, as we still have a day’s work ahead of us.

Colleague: “Well, all right, then. Thank you very much and goodbye.”

Attendant: “Have a good day.”

We leave in silence. I’m still mulling the whole thing over.

Me: “Do you also think he had just murdered the real attendant and was just waiting for us to leave so he could run away with the cash?”

Colleague: “I don’t know, but this is the creepiest R&R stop ever.”