Gasshole

So, every Friday I have a ritual of going to my corner gas station to refuel for the upcoming week. I've had no problems with their service in the past. I would pump my gas, walk to the counter, pay the lady, the lady would smile and say thank you, and that was that. The lady is not the friendliest person to ever live or anything, but since I purchase at their establishment routinely, she is aware that smiling and thanking me is a good choice for return business. This woman understands the whole business to client relationship. She understands that everytime I choose their station to refuel my vehicle, I am essentially helping her keep her job. It's not meant to demean anyone in anyway, but smart employee of any business should already be aware that this is all part of the business cycle. I work in an office but still understand that however I carry myself is a reflection of my work, which will inevitably keep me employed by the clients money.

I continue to frequent this gas station ever Friday expecting to have the routine transaction. Until just a few weeks ago, when I walk in to pay for my purchase... Enter, the new guy. Or what I like to call him, "GAS NAZI". Let me tell you, that the very first time I met gas nazi, I could tell that me and him would be arch enemies. So I walk in and say, "Good morning, pump # 3 please." ... no response ... "Hi sir, pump # 3 please." ... still nothing. See, I am generally a polite person ... but I only show respect to people that show respect in return. But I gave this guy the benefit of the doubt and thought, "Hey, hes new. Or maybe he didn't hear you." Making sure I spoke loud and clearly, I again said, "Excuse me sir, may I please pay for pump #3.".......... this motherfu*ker doesn't even look up! is this fuc*king guy def or some sh*t???? So then I just said, "YO, ARE YOU SLEEPING OR SOME SH*T??" ... thats when gas nazi looked up slowly. Let me tell you a little about gas nazi... let me break this sh*t down one time so you fully understand the situation. Gas nazi was a mid 40 to 50 year old man. He is grumpy the fu*k looking, and seems to hate his life. He had a screwface dude. He had an indian screwface that will haunt the sh*t out of you. You know when people have such thick as fu*k wrinkled eyebrows that it droops down and covers their eyes almost? This motherfu*ker had that sh*t. ANYWAYS, he looked up at me...with his drooped the fu*k out eyes and says, "How much?" ... mother effing... I'm thinking to myself, "Is this motherfu*ker def AND blind??" all that fu*king information is written in front of him on his computer! ... So I just say, "#3, fourty dollars. Thanks." ... He sighs and says, "yeah." ... What "yeah"??? "YEAH." And why the fu*k is he sighing???? All this ignoramous ass dude had to do was swipe my card and press ONE fu*king button! So I just took my card and left...

So today, I went to get gas, completely forgetting about gas nazi. So I walk up to the pump and press the button to select which grade of fuel I need. I dont know if you guys know this, but when you press that button it beeps inside where the gas station attendant is and they have to press a button on their end before you can start pumping gas. So I patiently wait and nothing...I don't know how long I waited but It was long enough for me to notice I had to wait. And I was the ONLY one at the station pumping gas! It wasn't even busy! I knew right then that the gas nazi was behind all of this. In my head I pictured him smiling and rubbing his hooves together thinking that he is the god of all gas. Finally I get to pump the gas. I walk in to pay for my fuel, and guess whos working? gas motherfu*king nazi is in the fu*king house. So I say, "#3 please." This motherfu*ker doesnt say anything AGAIN! He is reading some sh*t and doesnt even look up. It was getting late and the highway is a b*tch at that time so I had no time for this morons foolishness. I took his magazine and closed it and was like, "Do you not hear me?" So this dude looks at me like he wants to get froggy and sh*t. Man... I will sock the sh*t out of an old man. Don't get that sh*t twisted. I try to be good and all, but I will fuc*king uppercut you back to the middle fu*king east where that gas is being drilled out and make you walk back and pour that sh*t into my car. So he takes my card and swipes it and mumbles something. I didn't say anything from that point on cause I thought that motherfu*ker was putting spells on me and sh*t. For all I know hes some old man wizzard or witch like that old woman from Drag Me To Hell. I dont want to wake up and hes beside me at night mouth all wide open and sh*t looking scary.

So, Yeah. The moral of this story is, do your fu*king work. You don't even have to be proactive and sh*t. You can be lazy when there is time to be lazy, but when there is work to do, DO IT. It's the only way to progress as a human fu*king being. You dont like it? Then quit! Don't work half assed while I'm paying you, thats for motherfu*king sure. I don't care if youre a CEO, computer programmer, accountant, gas station attendant, janitor, squeegy kid... If im handing you my money, you better be ready to get your ass to work thats for motherfu*king sure. The only time you will feel fulfilled is when you know you are putting in effort. When you stop working hard, you stop reaching for a goal. It's what separates the successful to the gas nazis.

- Triggernuts