Visiting family over the weekend, I went to the gas station to fill up for the ride back to Jersey.
Now, I'm no idiot. Circus clown, maybe (confidential to Bello: your 3ft tall hair is zeeking me out. Stop it.), but I certainly know how to fill a tank.
I take the Honda to the pump and approach the pay here screen.
Screen: Pre-pay inside or swipe card.
Me: Swipe
Screen: Card not reading
Me: Swipe other direction
Screen: Pre-pay inside or swipe card.
Me: Ok I'll pay in cash, let me just pump and pay inside.
Screen: Pre-pay inside or swipe card.
Me: ...
Pump: Don't look at me.
I go inside to figure out WTF is up. Cashier 1 is ready to help:
C1: You have to pre-pay.
Me: Pre-pay what? I'm filling up, so I can't predict how much I will owe.
C1: You can leave the card with me and I will charge it when you return.
Me: What? That doesn't - ok, whatever, I have to get out of here, could you just start the pump?
I head to the pump and sure enough, it's ready to go. Now, I could've just let this go and chalk it up to Cumberland Farms' policy or some bullshit. But, dear readers, I have a responsibility as a bitchy blogger to try to pay in cash.
C1: Debit or credit?
Me: Cash. Let me have my card back.
C1: Ok.
Me: So, why do you need my card? What's stopping you from buying shit while I'm gone? And what if I didn't have a credit card on me and only had cash?
C1: You could give us extra cash and then we'd give you change.
Me: Whaaa?
At this moment I hear:
'you're not from around here, are you?'
Now, there are only a few situations where that phrase is valid and 90% of those end in dismemberment. But, here we are in a Hartford suburb, population bleh, where I'm now meeting Cashier 2.
She's easily 65, rides hard or dies, and could be described as Jerry Blank meets Vicky Pollard. And she has a mustache. Full grown, strong man from the 20s, mustache. Perhaps she should look into "waxing hard."
C2: You're not from around here are you?
Me: Nope. Jersey.
C2: We have a law here. You have to pre-pay before pumping.
Me: That's stupid.
C2: It's the law. ::Flash of gums::
Alright, Connecticut. You're a bad influence on other states and must be thwarted.
A few years ago, you came up with a catchy slogan to entice tourists called:
"Connecticut: We're Full of Surprises."
Surprise! You have to let a minimum wage yokel manhandle your debit card while you pump your gas.
Surprise! You have no viable transit system.
Surprise! You have no sports team.
Surprise! You can't buy booze after 8p on weekdays and at all on Sundays.
Surprise! YouSUCK.
That's IT. Connecticut, I hate you.
Monday, April 9, 2007
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5 comments:
wow--I'm never visiting there...hahaha
Still, it's better than Jersey, where you can't even touch your own pump.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha, Jersey.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. An angry Jersey resident? That's okay, CT still loves you. We'll chalk this one up to swamp fumes. Isn't that why you guys can't pump your own gas in the first place?
And this is why we ask that you always go back. Please just don't leave jersey.
GO BACK TO JERSEY!!!!!!!
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