From Drive-Off Dramaqueen, April, 2011:
Oh. My. Gods. I swear, someone left the door open at the loony bin or something, because they're all coming in full force to this gas station. Including, but not limited to, this gem, which just happened.
There was this old lady, I'd say probably a good 60-65 years of age, with leg braces and those half-crutches that have the thing that wraps around your forearm. She pulled up to the store, waited for an hour for the place to vacate, pulls around to a pump, comes in, and demands, NOT ASKS, DEMANDS, that somebody come out and pump her gas for her, because she's disabled.
I'm the only one in the store currently, so I say (insanely politely, as I've only been at work about an hour and hadn't had a bad custy yet!) "I would be happy to come out and pump your gas for you, ma'am, I just need to wait for the three customers who are in the store to pay and leave, I cannot leave the building with customers in it."
"NO. I HAVE *insert random mumbly-joe event here* TO BE AT IN FIVE MINUTES! YOU PUMP GAS NOW."
Really? Because you've sat here for an absurdly long time before coming in and demanding this.
"Well, ma'am, I'm the only attendant on duty right now, I can help you as soon as the store clears out. That's it."
She huffs and puffs, and decides to have me check 13 different gift cards to see if they had balance left on them.
Thirteen cock-sucking empty fucking gift cards.
And of course, it's my fault they're showing "empty" since none of them have been used!
So finally she puts $10 on a store credit card and walks back out to her car and sits in the driver seat, honking at me every two minutes while the other customers who were here first, and who are picking out their things are still shopping.
Almost a half hour later, and I did kind of feel bad about that, but not really, from the way she bursted in here, I finally got out and pumped her gas. Gas is like 3.40 a gallon or some shit and she ended up with 2.9 gallons.
She grabs my arm as I walk past, back in toward the store, and starts shouting that she "should get more gas than that, gas is 3.40 a gallon and she paid 10 dollars!"
I whip out my ipod, sick of her shit, and wrench away from her.
"Touch me again and I'll call the cops. As it stands, you just assaulted me. Now here, I have a calculator. $10.00 divided by the $3.40 ass-ragingly high gas price equals 2.942 gallons. That is what you received, that is what you paid for, don't come here again."
"How dare you talk to me like that, I'm a paying customer!"
"And I'm not required, as the only person on duty at this station right now, to leave this building for any reason. I'm sorry you have problems getting around, but maybe you should go to PamSu (hehe competitor) down that way" I point, "or the other OilSpill down that way," again, point "or any of the five Birthdays on Uni Ave. They all have two or more people working at any time. We do not. We are also the busiest station in this area, and, as such, we do not have time to leave the store and argue over whether or not we're "cheating people out of gas" at the pump. Because we're not. We just passed the mandatory yearly inspection with flying colors. So if you don't mind, I am going back inside, because it is cold, and I am only wearing a t shirt, and now my arm hurts."
Now, I understand, I do, I totally get the disabled thing. I spend a good deal of my time helping my mother, who is disabled, and my grandma and great aunt, both of which are disabled, and my mentally handicapped uncle. So, before the flame war starts on that end, let me just make that clear. I have nothing against people being disabled and needing extra help. But I will not stand by and be accused of cheating people, and I will not stand by and be abused or have my kindness taken advantage of.
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