"London, did you forget that you're dropping me off at Jennifer's on your way to work?"
I glance at the clock. Shoot. I'm gonna be late.
"Uhh . . . No Mom! I'll be down in a second."
As I get in the car and begin to rush to work, I glance down at the gas gauge and see that the needle is well below the "E" . . . Fortunately, I know all the in's and out's of my car, so I realize that the gas gauge doesn't really work. I (being the starving college student that I am) like to live on the edge. I know that my car can go 100 miles on 10 dollars of gas, so I just put 10 dollars in, go 100 miles, and refill.
Efficient? You know it.
I turn to my mom and point the gauge out to her and say "Oh no, we're not going to make it!" just to give her a scare. She says something about living on the edge like a parent is supposed to, and we continue on our way.
Now, flash forward a little bit. I made it to work without my car dying, and am happily making sandwiches. Suddenly, the phone rings. The suspense kills me as I listen to my coworker's side of the conversation. After he hangs up, he brings it over.
A delivery ticket.
For Yoda. (No lie)
Four gargantuan's, four chocolate chip cookies, and two Dr. Pepper's.
We get to work, and after everything is assembled, I grab the order, jump in my car, and take off. I plug my iPod in and am listening to some tunes as I drive, just enjoying having the rain on my window and the cold air it provides. I stop at a stoplight and am jamming out while the light is red. When it turns green, I do my usual, and stomp on the gas. And my car barely moves.
At this point I'm a little startled because usually, my car is pretty fast off the line. Which is surprising enough, what with how much of a beating it's been subjected to. But then it's smooth sailing for about half a block, so I just assume that it was the slant of the road or something, which was probably the stupidest thing I could have assumed.
After that half block of smooth sailing, however, my car begins jerking uncontrollably, and I start freaking out. I pull over to the side, and just know that my car has failed me. It decided that 85 miles was enough for 10 dollars, and demanded another payment. Immediately. Unfortunately, my circumstances didn't agree.
Well, at this point, I was kind of freaking out. See, I hadn't completed the delivery yet, and we have a policy about being super quick. Running out of gas doesn't exactly fall into the category of "super quick". So, I decided to drive whatever speed my car would allow for as long as it would permit in hopes of getting closer to a gas station.
After going a block or two at a ridiculously slow speed, I see a gas station! And . . . I pass it. Super quick reflexes, eh? So I decide to turn into the parking lot of the buildings right next to the gas station. Which happens to be a Pizza Hut; a parking lot filled with my fellow delivery drivers!
Unfortunately, as soon as I get my car into the parking lot, it decides to quit. Which is unfortunate because I'm stuck right behind a few parked cars, blocking them in.
After a few minutes of debating if I should just leave my car in the way while I go get some gas, or if I should call someone to help, or if I should just sit there and hope someone comes along to help, lo and behold, someone comes along to help. We put my car in neutral, and he and his wife push it into a parking stall. Fewf. I avoided the towing. For now.
So now that I got my car successfully parked, I head over to Smith's MarketPlace for some gas, all the while freaking out and hurrying, worried about how this delay will affect my tip. I get into the store, locate the gas cans, get a small one to carry, and go to check out.
If you learn anything from this post, I hope it is that you should never, ever trust an "express lane". Before this experience, I didn't apply that advice to my life. So, I get into the innocent looking "express lane", with my "fifteen items or less" behind someone who doesn't look to have too many items, because, after all, she has a small cart.
Just because someone has a small cart doesn't always mean they don't have many items. Somehow, this lady managed to cram 274 dollars worth of stuff into her cart meant for two or three. Maybe she thought she could fool the checker if she had a smaller cart? With how irritated the checker was, I don't think she was fooled.
After standing behind this lady for a few minutes, listening to her argue with the cashier about coupons, I decided to move over to the next lane. Ahh, this was better. This lady only had two items! I was gonna be outta there in no time. The cashier rings her up, tells her her total, and has her swipe her card. She swipes it once, twice, three times, and then a fourth, just for luck, but no. It doesn't work. She hands it to the cashier, who looks at her card, presses two buttons on his keyboard, and tells her to swipe it again. So she does.
Four more times.
By this point, I am super anxious. I start looking for another line that will be faster, but every line has three or more people in it. The only line that's kinda short is the line with the angry coupon lady. So I sigh in resignation, think to myself that anyone with a name like Yoda has gotta be a patient person, and wait.
I wait while the lady swipes her card a few more times.
I wait while she types her pin in incorrectly three times.
I wait while she has to type in her phone number.
I wait while the cashier talks to her about his possessed keyboard.
I wait while the lady punches in her own amount of cash back: $50.00.
I wait while the confused cashier looks at his computer wondering why it's telling him to give her $50.00.
I wait while the cashier finally understands what's going on and decides to give her her money.
And finally, it's my turn.
The cashier rings me up without much grief, and I am on my way again. I head over to the station and fill up my little can with gas, then start walking over to my car.
As I'm filling my car up with my small gas can, thinking about how lucky I am to have been that close to a gas station, I see something out of the corner of my eye. I glance over my left shoulder and see a man pointing his phone at me, obviously taking pictures.
"You don't mind if I take a picture of a Jimmy Johns driver sitting in a Pizza Hut parking lot filling up her car with gas, right?"
He might as well have said, "You don't mind if I take a picture of a GIANT IDIOT right now, right?"
I just chuckle, which he sees as encouragement apparently, because he moves closer, hoping for a better angle, and begins interrogating me.
"So, why'd you run out of gas?" he asked.
"Well, you see, the gauge doesn't really work . . ." (Mostly true . . .)
"Ha! More like the idiot girl don't work! If it were a guy driving this here car, he never woulda been in this predicament!"
Oh really? Well thank you sir, for offering me that kind bit of knowledge. It really helped me out.
He continues on making fun of me, saying that he's gonna plaster my pictures all over the internet proclaiming "what an idiot I am" as I will the gas to pour into the tank quicker.
Finally, it's all in. I close the can, bid farewell to the man, and almost have the door shut when he spots the food sitting next to me.
"Oho! And she has food to deliver too! This just keeps getting better and better!"
I slammed the door to his laughter.
So, if you see my picture all over the internet, feel free to let it be known what an idiot I am. No worries, someone already made sure of that, so you'd merely be reinforcing that point.
Oh and Yoda? She gave me a five dollar tip, despite being 45 minutes late.