The Best of Dumber Than Advertised (The Gas Station Years, Part 1)

A trucker came in and asked for directions to "Carolton South Carolina" and insisted she wasn't far, she just couldn't find the road she needed. She seemed surprised when I informed her that she was in Georgia, almost to the Alabama border. The establishment and road she's looking for is about three blocks from my store which begs the question, how does a trucker mistake South Carolina for Georgia?

This happens all the time and thus reinforces my sentiment that those who play the Lotto are idiots: A customer asks for six of a single ticket, I ask them if they want anything else, they tell me "no", then they ask for six of a different kind of ticket.

A heavily tattooed customer has, among his many tats, two horns inked onto his forehead. In addition to looking stupid because they're 2-D he also has a few days' growth, making him look like a Chia-Demon. Sa-sa-sa-Satan!

A customer told me I was "too cool" for putting his beer in a bag with handles. I replied, "Well, if there's an epicenter for all the coolness in the world, I figure I must be it at least part of the time."

A customer unhooked the gas pump but didn't push the button for authorization, so he left it off the hook and came inside to see why it wouldn't start. I explained that he had to hang the pump back up if he wanted to pre-pay or he could just press the button and stop it himself at ten dollars. When I asked which he wanted to do he replied, "Yeah, sure, I'm in no hurry." And stood there.

It must be time to stalk and murder some sort of innocent animal again. I'm seeing an awful lot of people in hunter's camo today. Nothing really stands out apart from the statistical anomaly that camo = pituary retard. And man, are they predictable: an average of 5 bags of ice, between 2 and 4 six-packs of beer (why not buy a case, stupid?), one or more cans of chaw, some danishes, and an orange juice to round out their breakfast.

A coworker needed a calculator to double-check that 10 x 17 = 170.

Nothing makes me want to give stellar customer service like someone who will not acknowledge me when I speak to them. While some of my customers are knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing Homo Erectus throwbacks whose verbiage is limited largely to indecipherable grunts and noises that sound like "Bud" and "Skoal", there are others who come in the door speaking fluent English on cell phones and completely shut up when they get to the counter. I know I don't have the greatest job in the world, but come on!

Phone conversation:

"Thank you for calling Cowboys, this is Jennifer. How may I help you?"
"What are you doing?"
"May I ask who this is, please?"
"Eddie. What are you doing?"
"Working. And yourself?"
"Well, are you real busy right now? Can you talk for a moment?"
"I do have things that need to get done, yes. Can I help you with something?"
"I just wanted to see if you could talk for a bit."
"I'm sorry, but do I know you?"
"My friends and I came in about a week ago. You probably don't remember me."
"Okay..."
"Yeah, my friends wanted to see if I had the balls to call you up."
"Well, it seems you have, sir. Congratulations."

There is something profoundly ironic about someone speaking in Ebonics bitching about how the Mexicans at work can't speak proper English.

How's this for a mastery of written English?

Jennifer, please make sure you put up the stuff up in the totes in the back in front of the cooler. Thanks, Crystal. if you have any questions feel free to call me. My # is on the # list.

A customer just told me she didn't know how to operate a gas pump, in that she didn't know how to get it to stop. This was after telling me she'd stop it at twenty so that she didn't have to go back outside to hang it up in order for me to pre-pay the pump.

A customer wasn't looking where he was going, missed the poles with the reflectors, and got stuck in the ditch beside our driveway.

Exchange with a customer:

"Are you pagan?"
"Nope, I'm Christian. That's why I wear the Satanic star upside-down."

Earlier this shift, just before last call (you can't buy alcohol on Sunday in Georgia), a young customer got abusive because the only ID he had didn't have a birth date on it. It was some sort of military induction card, from the looks of it, which at best implied that he was over 18 years of age. Not long after last call I had another customer who was so drunk he was stumbling and who argued vehemently with me because he had no ID to purchase cigarettes. Never mind that his girlfriend had a valid ID and I sold them anyway - it was the principle of the thing, dammit... a dangerous stance to take against someone who was reared on the concepts of La Vendetta and the Gypsy Blood Feud. So, because it was all about the principle of the thing, I motioned inside the cop who'd pulled into the parking lot and told him the guy had been drunk and abusive and I thought the girl might have been drinking as well. He made like he was doing paperwork until they pulled off, then followed them up the road for a bit before pulling them over. Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Two customers each had $6 in gas. When the first of the two got to the counter I asked if he were in the red or the white car. His resplendent answer was a vague, "That one over there," further clarified by, "Uh, three or four, maybe that's two..." The white car was on pump 1/2, the red car on 3/4. These pumps are on separate islands.

A customer came inside the store solely to inform me that this town has a strip joint.

A customer asked where to go nearby to get food. I suggested the Ingles because they're about three miles up the road and open 24 hours. "They've got food?" he asked in disbelief. I assured him that yes, as a grocery store, they had lots of food.

An assistant manager saw me smoking Camel Wides and asked me what the difference was to normal Camels. "They're wider than Camel Filters." She actually needed this statement clarified.

I hate stupid questions:

"Do you work here?" - Asked while I'm in uniform and detailing the cooler doors with a toothbrush for an upcoming inspection.

"You probably don't know this, but..." - Hey, fuck you too. If I look too ignorant or just plain stupid to answer your question, why waste the time in asking me?

I now know how bartenders feel when drunks wax philosophical. Some lady was in here for at least an hour telling a perfect stranger (me) all about her recent move and how her boyfriend/fuck-buddy is essentially stalking her; but of course, she sees no problem with this even though he pistol-whipped a previous girlfriend. It's unusual for abject idiocy to be this entertaining. It's a nice change of pace.