Passing the Time.
There is a thing that the night crew at gas-mart places do: we drink. Did you ever wonder why those people selling you beer at 12:45 AM on a Friday night/Saturday morning, trapped behind a counter while everyone else is getting drunk and trying to get laid, seem so jolly? That's right, we're drinking too. It's not really a difficult scam to pull off, as the geriatric old ladies that run any gas-mart type establishment have left by four in the afternoon and are in bed by nine. Besides, it's utterly necessary for us to have some kind of paralell perspective come closing time. If I weren't a bit drunk by midnight, do you really think that I could be polite to the late-night clientele?
Really, it's a comparitive ideology kind of world. Many of my patrons don't speak English as their first language, and the hammered Spanglish I get come near-closing hours is a touch difficult to understand. So slamming a few Icehouse 22's in the cooler puts us on a communicative level that, while mutually incomprehensible, is at least amiable. Now my Mexican day-laborer friends can simply point to what they wish to purchase, without me having my nerves frayed or losing my composure. Alcohol provides patience, in a way that simply taking a deep breath or asking someone to repeat themselves (for the fourth time) doesn't.
So everybody wins. I get to catch last call at my local with a proper head start, and my customers deal with someone sociable as opposed to the utter prick they'd encounter were I sober. People who wish to decry us (the employees) as irresponsible reprobates for doing what we do have never had this kind of job. It's a job that involves staring into the files of humanity at its most debased and winking, a sly little wink, that acknowledges how filthy and corrupt we are, before proceeding to sell the cheapest alcohol imaginable to the people with most cause to avoid it.
And this is my life as a...gas station attendant.
posted by JPS @ 5/21/2005 12:29:00 AM
3 comments
3 Comments:
"we're drinking too"
I have suspected as much many times! My local convience store guy will, with minimal prompting, freely quote star wars or make up videogameesque stories off the top of his head, any time after midnight on weekends.
Amusing blog and amusing post. My 3-week tour at a Cleveland-area gas station was largely the 6 ayem variety, which meant that I was invariably under the influence of alcohol, if not actively consuming it. In fact, the store manager was my 19-year old friend, who was typically out drinking underage at a bar with me the night before. Only thing is he'd go back to the office and sleep at his desk while I suffered through carding Berea High School students trying to buy Marlboros. And I always really hated being the fact of the underage drinking laws (as a waiter as well as a smock-wearing gas clerk), but then again I feel like I've repented by buying beer as often as I can for underagers over the years.
Giant Bladder has also spent a good amount of time behind the bullet-proof glass, I encourage you to stop by his blog if you've the time. I think it's a good part of what's made him so darn cantakerous.
Bullet proof glass? They get to walk into my store up until closing, drunk, stoned, belligerent, and possibly armed, up until the minute we lock the doors and close for the night. I enjoyed both yours your friend's blog, though, and I'll definitely stop back.
What the hell is the ABA anyway?
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