Fifty Cents

What happened to the gas prices? I was gone five days and the same station I gassed up at on the way up north was fifty cents a gallon more on my return. 

What did you people do? I can't leave you alone for a minute.

Can't Win For Losing

Yesterday I spoke about a long day up North. As I passed a Shell station in Mackinaw City right at the tip of the mitt I saw gas for $3.07 a gallon. Too much, I know, but a good price for that area and these times. Yet as it was in the wee hours the station was closed. I vowed to stop by as I returned. 

Of course, by the time I made my stops in da U.P. it was I clear I wouldn't get back that far without more petrol. Thinking about that relatively inexpensive fuel, I bought a meager $10 at $3.24 when around 40 miles from Mackinaw. You know, enough to get across the bridge for the cheaper cost. 

You know where this is going, don't you?

Crossing the Mighty Mac in great anticipation, I soon made my exit by that same gas station from earlier, where its gas was then $3.28. I could have filled up completely and saved four cents a gallon.

It figures. 

The Incredulous Curmudgeon

I can be a curmudgeon. I can be impatient. I can be astounded, outraged, and incredulous all at once too. Would you like to know, as my old friend Cloyce might say, "How could that be?"

It could be like this: I walked into a gas station the other day to pre-pay for my gas. I am increasingly using a debit card at the pump to avoid precisely the type of situations which I then encountered.

The woman in front of me was buying $100 worth of scratch off lottery tickets. That's frustrating when waiting in line for something simple - give me thirty bucks on pump four please - but it's how things are. I can accept that. And at least the woman asked for five $20 tickets; she could have wanted 100 one dollar scratch-offs, right? So it should still have been a quick transaction. 

Note the operative term, should have been. The attendant slid the tickets through the slot below the glass, and was given a debit or charge card for the purchase. But then - I still can't really believe it, and perhaps you can't fathom it - she slides them back along with a quarter and tells the man, "Scratch them off for me." She doesn't ask; she orders it. 

I think all three of us in line behind her openly groaned. The look she gave us in return in was, basically, um, ah, blank you. I was here first.

The attendant, equally astounded, took a moment to react, and I don't blame him. How exactly do you react when faced with an inherently bizarre demand? He finally shoved them back out at the purchaser and said, "You scratch them."

She grabbed her tickets and stormed out, all the time muttering about how rude people are. One guy behind me clapped as she left.

I should have joined him. But what was in it's turn funny was the attendant, as I paid him, held up the woman's coin and remarked with a grin, "And she forgot her quarter!"