Monday I went to town a couple hours early to cash in a special scratcher winner. I was lucky enough to arrive at the Gas Station Chicken Store a few minutes before 2:00. That's when their shift changes, and when the Man or Woman Owner leave. Only they can cash a ticket of this magnitude! (Picture on my not-so-secret blog.)
Anyhoo... I couldn't park in the handicap space beside the building, because a pickup truck had just pulled in there, and was waiting for a car to vacate the FREE AIR hose area. So I parked by the moat. A dump truck was at the diesel pumps on that side of the building. The driver finished getting gas, and BACKED UP towards T-Hoe! I know he saw me there. Yet he came within about 15 feet. Quite disconcerting, not knowing if he was going to stop!
Trucker then walked into the GSCS. I was getting out of T-Hoe when I saw the pickup pull forward. So I drove over to park in the handicap space.
When I got inside, Trucker was third in line. I got behind him. Woman Owner was manning the register. A lady was buying three giant jugs of whiskey! Not just a fifth. A JUG! THREE of them! Of course she was using a card, and didn't know how to use the card-reader. Then she forgot how much gas her husband pumped, and had to go outside to ask, because she didn't agree with what Woman Owner read off the thingy.
Once the transaction was finally complete, Woman Owner had to put all that whiskey in BAGS. Plastic bags. Which, as you might assume, are wont to stick together. So that took a while, what with double-bagging because they were so heavy. Not all three could fit in one bag, doubled or not.
Finally Whiskey Woman left, and the next lady wanted cartons of cigarettes. So that took some time. Man Owner wandered up front from behind the soda fountain aisle. Woman Owner asked him to help out on the second register. So he called to Trucker.
Farmer H knows Trucker. I know where he lives. His wife works with The Pony. I've seen Trucker in the GSCS many times. Trucker fancies himself to be a bit of a comedian. He said he would go to Man Owner's register, but that he had hoped to be served by Woman Owner. That she was always mean to him and charged him a dollar to use the bathroom. If she could, she would, but this tale was fabricated.
Anyhoo... while we had all been waiting, I saw a hand with a soda appear on the soda fountain aisle. You can't see through the shelving. So I knew it would be a big kerfuffle over who was next. In fact, Woman Owner said she could help someone, and I said,
"I'm not sure who was next." Even though I knew it was me. If the Soda Hand had common sense, she would have realized that the door had not made its opening sound since she had stepped up to the counter area. So obviously everyone had been in line ahead of her. But before she could demur, and let me take my rightful turn, which the expression on her newly-appeared face projected... Trucker said:
"Right here. She's another regular." And he nodded at Soda Hand, standing off to the side, late to the line.
AS IF he was in charge of who took what turn. AS IF I haven't been frequenting the GSCS almost daily for the past 20 years. AS IF he and Soda Hand should get special treatment. Which I guess also includes backing your dump truck into cars parked by the moat in regular parking spaces.
Anyhoo... Trucker finally left, and Man Owner asked if he could help me.
"I hope so. I came to town early to see if you could cash this ticket for me."
"Oh. I wish I could. But I only have $12 in this register!"
"Well, I'm not going to trade my ticket for $12. But you can cash in this $10 ticket, and sell me some more."
So Man Owner did my regular transaction, although he charged me a dollar too little for The Pony's Cash4Life ticket. So I reminded him before he rang it up. Good thing their policy is to say the amount of each ticket as they're ringing it. Man Owner thanked me for not cheating him, and said, "This is the only business in town where you have to work when you buy something!"
Soda Hand was buying some weird stuff like chewing tobacco. But when she finally got done, Woman Owner cheerfully said she could cash my ticket. It's a good day when you get her in a good mood! She scanned my winner, and opened the cash drawer, and said:
"Oh. I hope I have enough in here to pay you!" I'm pretty sure she was joking with me.
"I hope so too! Or you'll have to come home with me and do some work at my house!"
"OOH! You have a farm, don't you?" said Man Owner.
"No animals anymore, but we used to have goats and chickens and a mini pony."
"I was raised on a farm. I could do it," said Woman Owner.
"Well, it has to be YOU! Don't send HIM!" Man Owner is good about being the butt of everyone's jokes. So I knew I wasn't hurting his feelings.
Anyhoo... I finally got my special scratcher cashed. But it wasn't easy.
6 comments:
Your mistake was in saying "I don't know who was next" instead of just stepping forward. But at least you got everything done without having to go to another store. Chewing tobacco is disgusting.
River,
I was trying to be polite. I had seen her soda hands when she crept forward, but I never say her face. Which means she didn't see ME. So she would have assumed I was butting in front of her, taking her turn. I've got another tale about the Casey's line the next day...
Chewing tobacco does not annoy me as much as cigarettes. I've had a lot of smoke blown on me, but nobody ever spit tobacco on me!
Too nice! Chewing tobacco is gross. People will spit anywhere. My mother quit smoking and took up chewing tobacco which probably afforded her even more nicotine. She liked to keep bottles in everyone's cars to spit in. None of her spit bottles had lids (she tossed them, apparently having to twist the cap off was just too much effort). I refused to let her put one in my car, but everyone else had clean-up stories to tell!
Kathy,
Oh my gosh! A SPIT BOTTLE! That reminds me of the original movie National Velvet, when Velvet's little brother Donald had a spit bottle he wore on a string around his neck.
I would have happily tied Mother's spit bottle around her neck, but she still would have managed to spill it! She didn't want "others' to know about her nasty habit. Maybe I am being too hard on a person who claims to have started smoking when she was 7, sifting through ashtrays looking for stubs to satisfy her needs for nicotine.
Kathy,
Started smoking at 7!!! Sweet Gummi Mary, was she a newsboy in 1899 New York City?
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