*this post has lots of brackets and not much action but it's Sunday night and that's how I roll
On Thursday I went to the petrol station for the first time ever.
The idea with the work cars is that the needle never drops below halfway (the petrol tanks are magic (no they're not, but how awesome would that be)), so you can rely on there being petrol. Usually I take a car, drive aimlessly around for a bit, then check the gauge on the way back to the office and think, "oh fuck it, it's only just below half" and take the car home. Maybe I am a bad person. But maybe someone in my department gets enormous pleasure from filling up the car and I am allowing them to live their dream every day. Who knows. The moral is not to judge.
ANYWAY on Thursday I took my manager's car out, and he had left it on E for Egg (fucker (I mean he is a fucker, not "E for Egg Fucker" which as far as I'm aware isn't even a thing and I'm too scared to google it and find out*) and I was in Sumner and happened to glance down and OH FUCK NO PETROL. So I zoomed sedately (one does not speed in the work car, even when it is tempting and there are not police - I have a tendency to get all boy-racer on it and have to watch myself) towards the nearest petrol station. Bohemian Rhapsody was on and I was doing the headbanging bit and almost missed the petrol station entrance. Good start.
*But then I did google it and nothing relevant showed up. Few results for Fucker Egg, though.
I parked the car and got out. The station attendant, who had several teeth and a mullet, wandered over. I said, "This is the work car and I don't know how to fill it up. Can you help me please?" He pointed out that the petrol cap was on the other side. I reversed a bit after first trying to go in neutral with the handbrake on (I was flustered), and waited for him to help with the petrol. He showed me how to open the petrol cap (exciting little lever by the driver's seat!), fill the car, shake off the last drops of petrol (freud freud freud) and close the cap again (little lever not required). Paid for petrol. Left station feeling enormous sense of achievement.
Took another car out on Friday and the needle dipped below half on my way home. "Right," I thought, "I am a big kid now, I can do petrol," and went back to the petrol station. Same attendant. I hopped out of the car like, oh look at me, I have it sorted, and smiled cheerily at the attendant.
"Hullo love!" he shouted. "You've parked on the wrong side again."
4 comments:
You're extremely lucky to have had an attendant help you. First time I ever had to pump my own petrol, I had to do it ALL ON MY LONESOME.
Don't feel too bad about parking the car on the wrong side of the pump. It's not nearly as bad as attempting to get the tank opening as close as possible to the nozzle and end up parking about half a metre too far away. I do that often. I am spatially spastic.
I HATE GETTING PETROL!!!!!
I always ask the attendant to help.It is my JUST DUE and I shouldn't have to ask.
I miss the days of attendants. There are very, very few stations that have them around here anymore.
I'm so lazy.
High five for big girl you!
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