Gas Station Daze: Part 5: He'll Never Do that Here, Again

I had Thursdays and Fridays off but had to open the station at six o'clock in the morning on Saturdays and Sundays. On summer mornings, after I put the money into the till, turned the sign lights on and unlocked the doors, I got out a hose and sprayed down the lot. In the winter, I shoveled any snow that had fallen overnight off the walkways and threw kitty litter on the steps. (This gas station boss taught me to always carry kitty litter in my car in the winter. I didn't think it did that much good until I saw it work. If you are stuck, a sprinkle of kitty litter and off you go--unless you are really stuck (snow up to the frame).) A snow plow came in and plowed the lot.

One early summer morning on a Saturday not long after I was hired on, I had sprayed off the lot and sat waiting for the action of the day. My boss usually came in at about eight o'clock on Saturdays. Shortly before eight, a man drove in with several people in the car. I went out to see how much gas he wanted.

"Fill it up, check the oil and wash the windshield," the man said.

I did not point the sign out, which I never again did after the Canadian incident. I put the gas nozzle in the tank and turned it on. Then I checked the oil and washed the windshield. By that time the tank was full. I hung the hose up and put the gas cap on. (In those days very few gas caps were strapped to the vehicle fill tube.) I strolled to the driver's window and told him the amount.

"What?" the driver asked. "I only asked for five dollars worth!"

"I heard you say, 'Fill it up.'"

"I did not and I'm not paying more than five dollars."

Just then my boss drove up. "Here's my boss." I waved for my boss to come over. "I'll see what he wants to do." I met my boss halfway to the customer's car and told him what happened.

"I'll take care of this," my boss said. He sauntered over to the car, said something and pointed to the garage door. My boss went over and opened the garage door so the customer could drive his car into the garage. He guided the driver over the hoist.

"Anybody who wants to get out of the car better do it now," he said before lining the lifting pads of the hoist with the car frame. I figured he was going to pull the gas tank drain plug to drain the gas out. The driver was the only one to get out of the car. Then my boss raised the car about six inches off the floor. I knew this meant he wasn't going to pull the drain plug, but it didn't make any sense.

"I'm going to siphon the gas out into a measuring can," he told both me and the customer. Now it made some sense. He raised the car so the gas would siphon out faster. The part that didn't make sense was there was no need for that and pulling the plug would have been faster. But he was the boss and I didn't question the boss--especially in front of a customer.

He pulled the measuring can off a shelf, wiped the dust off it and went into the back room for a siphon hose. When he came back he was carrying a hose that was about one eighth inch in diameter. That didn't make any sense at all. A hose that small would take forever to siphon out just five gallons and he had to siphon out at least fifteen gallons!

My boss shoved the hose deep into the tank, moved it back and forth a bit, put his thumb over the opening of the hose and pulled about half the hose out and held the end over the opening of the can. He took his thumb off the end of the hose and the gas squirted out. Then he said to me, out of the customer's earshot, "Check that in about fifteen minutes and let me know how full it is." Then he went to the back room and started doing the book work.

The gas had barely covered the bottom of the can by the time he told me that and I had walked over to see how fast it was filling the can.

I went out and waited on a couple of customers and after fifteen minutes, I checked the can. It showed almost three gallons in measuring glass on the side of the can. I told my boss and he just nodded. About five minutes later, he went out and checked the can. It took nearly five more minutes to fill it up to the five gallon mark. It had taken twenty-five minutes to siphon out five gallons. This wasn't making any sense to me at all. Why didn't he get out the hose with at least an inch diameter and get the job done?

My boss took the can out and dumped the gas into the underground tank that fed the pumps. Then he repeated the process to get the gas going again and returned to the back room. After about forty-five minutes had passed the driver danced back and forth like he was about to pee his pants. "I can't wait for this," he said. "I've got to get going."

"You'll have to pay for the gas we haven't siphoned out," my boss told him.

"Anything," the man said. "I just don't have time for this."

"We only have about a gallon before the can will be full so I'll minus the cost of ten gallons from what you owe."

"Do whatever," the driver said. "Just get me out of here."

My boss watched the gas and once it reached the five gallon mark he pulled the hose out of the tank and drained it into the can. Then he took the can out and dumped it into the underground tank. He came back and subtracted ten gallons off what the customer owed. The driver tossed a few bills on the counter and my boss gave him his change then went into the shop and lowered the hoist. The driver backed out of the garage. My boss smiled, waved and said, "Come back, again." The car tore out of the station so fast I was surprised there wasn't fire shooting out of the exhaust pipes.

"If that ever happens to you again," my boss said, "get the car up on the hoist first thing."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"He can't drive off on you if his car is in the air, can he?"

"No, I guess he can't, but what about that dinky little hose?"

"I hate it when people try to get away with a full tank of gas by claiming they only asked for a couple of dollars worth when they asked for a fill up. I knew he was going somewhere but I wasn't. So he'd either be late or he'd pay up."

"I see," I said.

"There's one thing I'll guarantee you," my boss said. "He'll never do that here, again!"

This is my final installment of Gas Station Daze. I worked at this gas station for three years when one of my friends suggested I apply at the boat factory where he worked. I got the job and although I have had several jobs since, I have never returned to working in a gas station. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed my days in a gas station daze. Here are links to the other installments.

Part 1: Hot Young Women

Part 2: Robbed

Part 3: Read the Sign, Hey?

Part 4: Flat Tire!