Skip to main content

A Moral and Gas

Speaking of Costco, I found myself there again yesterday in order to fill up my car with gas. Its pretty cheap there, and as I am now an exclusive member with access to all the rights and privileges associated therewith, I thought I might as well take advantage of it.

For some reason, Costco employs a man whose sole duty is to watch people pump their gas at the station. He walks back and forth, inspecting people’s gas-pumping techniques like a military commander inspects a soldier’s barracks. As I pulled up to the station I thought to myself that having the man there was pretty silly. Filling your car with gas is a pretty simple process, especially since the pumps have those little computers that won’t let you get any gas until you pay, so I think everybody there could probably handle the job without any supervision. After all, we are Costco members, we’re smart enough to recognize the cost-efficiency of buying in bulk, so we’re more than qualified to pump some gas.

I was waiting for my tank to fill up, simultaneously filling up with derision for the attendant man, when a lady in a mom wagon-style SUV pulled up to the pump on the other side of me. She got out and went about her business, but I paid her no attention. I was washing my windows, which was covered in the slaughtered remains of innocent bugs. The gas man came my way, and suddenly spoke.

“Ma’am, you need to turn off your vehicle before fueling.”

The lady with the SUV said, “Oh,” and turned off her car. I was in shock. She seemed to be in her mid to late 30’s, and yet did not have the common sense enough to know she had to turn off the engine before pumping gas. I was standing not five feet from her car, so I wondered what might possibly have happened if the gas man hadn’t been there. I don’t know much about mechanics, but I suddenly imagined her vehicle exploding, killing us both instantly in a tragic and news-worthy sort of way.

So as I got into my car and left, I cast a warm smile of appreciation at the man. His job must be tedious and boring, but clearly some people just need a little extra help. Somebody's got to do it.

Mr. Gas Station Attendant Man, I salute you.

Comments

Gregory said…
I wonder how much he gets paid.
Anonymous said…
Matt? Matt Haws? Is it really you?

You know, A certain friend informed of a certain persons certain blog, so I decided to check it out and see if it was for real... And whaddya know! I stumbled across this little treasure.

Oh, by the way-- That friend was one Celeste Baillio... So who am I? I'll give you a hint:

"Hssst Yow!"

Alright, alright. It's me, Trevor. It's great that you're holding up! Drop me a line sometime, "George."

From, Jude Law-- Er, Trevor
planetdiamond_productions@hotmail.com
Matt Haws said…
good to hear from you, Trevor. What are you up to?
gladys said…
He gets paid some $17+ an hour. Aparently it's an easy job, so it is more contested among certain older, more veteran Costco employees. I would imagine he has probably been employed there a few years. Most employees there are able to maintain their regular raises, as well as annual bonuses. It isn't entirely unrealistic that he is easily earning more than $20/hr.
Matt Haws said…
Man! Where do I sign up??

Popular posts from this blog

God Bless Us, Every One

Call me a Scrooge, but I've found that the last couple of years Christmas just hasn't carried the same sense of wonder and excitement it once did. When I was a kid, I was ready to pee my pants every day in December just thinking about the twenty-fifth, which crept closer so slowly that the month was always filled with blissfully tortuous anticipation. The sense of suspense, the agony of not knowing what the fantastically wrapped boxes contained, was only heightened by the lights, the music, the snow, and everything you knew meant it was Christmas time. Back then, my heart's desires cost about twenty bucks and, tragically, seemed both completely unobtainable and the key to my whole life's happiness. This was the season, then, when miracles of a very practical kind could happen; objects only admired on the shelf, or at a friend's, or in some abstract sense of obsession could literally become my own and wind up, eventually, in pieces somewhere in my closet. I like to c...

The Only Thing We Have to Fear...

It's October, which means not only do I get to start dipping into my nifty fall wardrobe but also that Halloween is upon us. I think its great that we devote specific holidays to various basic emotions of the human psyche. Halloween = fear, Valentine's day = love, Thanksgiving = gratitude, St. Patrick's Day = envy, and Christmas = greed. We're just missing wrath, lust, pride, sloth, gluttony, and inadequecy. Clearly, more holidays are necessary. But that's a subject for another day. We don't want to give Halloween less than its due. Because seriously, how cool is Halloween? Its way off the scale on the cool-o-meter. When else can you see even the most pious and sensible people indulging in a little of the supernatural and occult by dressing up their children as vampires, witches, or ghosts? Well, that's how it was back in my day anyway (which was soooooo long ago), but today kids dress up as Jedi, princesses, Harry Potter, or Spiderman. They are totally miss...

Backstage Confessions

A production of a play is made more by what you don't see than what you do. When you go see a play (as I'm sure you often do, since all readers of my blog are cultured and intellectual), you don't see the hours and hours and HOURS of rehearsal and discussion and preparation the cast and crew gave to put the show together. You don't see the intricate web of movement and interaction I can only call "the backstage dance." It's made up of all the cast members not currently on stage, as well as stage crew and costumers, moving about to get into position for an upcoming scene, prepare a prop, discuss the progress of the show and the audience's reaction, flirt, or talk about things totally unrelated to the play. As you get comfortable in the routine of the show, you find yourself in the same place with the same people at each point during the play. It's really quite a remarkable feat of collaberation and cooperation. Each person in a group of twenty to th...