We Want To Cry, Too

I work at a gas station for a grocery store. I love my job, but sometimes… the people.

I watch as a lady stops short on the drive up to an out-of-order pump and steps out to move the cone over to the side — a real feat, as it’s heavily weighted against the wind. She gets back in her car so she can drive up properly, then gets back out, takes the red out-of-order bag off the pump handle, and proceeds to throw it into the trash.

She goes about trying to use the pump, but after a minute, she yells that the screen isn’t working!

Gasp! Shock! And HORROR! The out-of-order pump is… OUT OF ORDER!? How dare it be?!

I ignore her yelling as I would any other crazy person doing such crazy things. She walks over to my window.

Customer: “Sir, the pump isn’t working. The screen’s not on.”

I play innocent like I didn’t just watch her do what she did.

Me: “Really? Which pump?”

Customer: “Pump number eight, I believe it is.”

Me: “Oh! I’m sorry, ma’am, but pump eight is shut down at the moment. It needs repairs.”

Customer: “It needs repairs? I didn’t know.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. You didn’t run over the cone there, did you?”

Customer: “No. I don’t think so.”

Me: “Good. It could really damage your vehicle if you were to run it over. But it’s there to let you know that the pump is out of order.”

Customer: “Is that what it means? Well, I guess I’ll go to another one.”

Me: “That would be best.”

She leaves. I want to cry.