As I pulled into the forecourt I went into the typical, which pump do I go to? Will that old lady filling up her Nissan Midget Gem be quicker than the bloke with the 4x4 Rampant Stallion With Small Trouser Department? Will the lady with the look at me convertible use pay at the pump and be quicker than family guy with a poor taste in car colour? (it was lime green with pink furry dice) You have probably done the same, my issue though was compounded with the placement of road cones in front of four of them rendering them out of order.
Eventually I opted for a space behind one car that seemed close to finishing and they looked with it enough to pay quite quickly. I don't really know what happened then, but ten long minutes later the guy I was behind stumbled out of the shop after paying for his petrol and buying up the entire stock of Ginsters. Seriously, I have never seen anyone buy more than one of those things at a time, this guy had armfuls. Maybe he was having a Ginster party or something either way it wasn't going to be fun judging by the ten cans of Red Bull sticking out from a carrier bag and the large bag of M&M's. Hey, I'm having a party, do you want to come? It's an all you can eat Ginster buffet and we can get ripped on Red Bull whilst popping M&M's like a gangsta? You up for that bro?
No. Never. Ever.
Anyway, he tootled away to his Ginster party and possibly a prolapsed colon and I pulled up at the pump and marvelled at how much petrol he had put in. £98.23, don't ask me how, why or where he stuck all this petrol, he was only driving a small car, all I can think is he drank it to get rid of the taste of Ginsters. I clicked Pay at Pump and inserted my card, popped in my four digit code, and whilst we are on this track here's a thing you can try at supermarket checkouts if you want to freak people out. Wait until the person in front types their four digit code then immediately say, "Hey, you have exactly the same four digit code that I have on my card!", gets them every time.
Picking up the nozzle I stuck it in and pressed the button. The pump sighed. No, I mean really sighed like it was in a huff or something then did nothing. Zip, zilch, nothing came out of the nozzle but get this, it remembered the number £98.23 and decided to add my pumped air to the total and I watched in amazement as it increased rapidly over £100. Wha! No! I pulled it out quickly and stood looking in disbelief as air shot out of the end and it continued to add £££ even though I had released the trigger. This one armed bandit was charging me for a blow dry whilst I had visions of spiralling into debt with a petrol pump bill that would require me to take out a hefty sum from a loan shark which I would then default on and he would come round and break my legs as compensation.
With my best "Why me?" look I tried to attract the attention of the petrol attendant by waving my wind blowing pump but they were too busy selling more Ginsters whilst other motorists started to edge away worried that I was a maniac and I was going to suddenly whip out a box of matches to start a small bush fire on the forecourt. I suppose I did look a bit odd, but hey, I was being charged for a petrol pump that had ambitions to become a hairdryer. Fearing the worst I placed the pump back, with a triumphant sigh the pump stopped pumping and it nicely decided to charge over £150 to my card then inform me that there was no till roll to print out a receipt as proof.
You see, my days sometime resemble a sketch show and other times an episode of the Twilight Zone, today was both. You would not imagine the problems I had in explaining all this to an assistant who obviously cared enough to not give a toss and decided that his nails needed a bit of a clean with the pen whilst I pleaded to get the £150 quid back with an apparently stupid story that the pump had blown air at me and possibly spoke too. So far it had taken me thirty long minutes.
Three explanations later and two trips out to the pump the whole thing was reset and I found myself again inserting my credit card assured by the nail cleaner that it was indeed fine to go ahead as there was nothing wrong in the slightest with the pump and maybe in some way I had antagonised it into blowing air. So imagine how surprised I was when it just farted air and charged £22 to my card again. I almost lost it enough to go inside and overturn the Ginster fridge. If they were watching the CCTV they would have seen me mouth 'For flips sake' (use your imagination) and then do a little dance as I wrestled with the pump like I was fighting an anaconda.
Obviously, explaining the problem for a second time proved even more difficult as by now I was filed under asshole who can't use a pump and probably shouldn't be driving or indeed allowed out alone. This time I was escorted out to the pump by the manager who showed me how to use the newly reset pump like I was a child of five. He even unscrewed the cap on my car to make sure I was humiliated to the max.
In went my card, I picked up the pump and pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. 'Yippee!' I looked at my new patronising friend and grinned. 'See!' I said triumphantly but his face never altered, he just reached over and took the pump from my hand, pressed the trigger and out oozed petrol. 'See?' He said with a look that would have withered flowers, 'There is nothing wrong with it'
Wha! The bloody motherflipper! how on earth can a petrol pump be so cruel, apart from the price of petrol that is. Forty minutes to put thirty pounds of petrol in and now I'm branded a bit of a nutter that wrestles petrol pumps, pretends that they are hairdryers and refuse to buy Ginsters. My CCTV footage has probably been flashed around the country banning me from forecourts everywhere.
So as compensation I'm sat with my new friend eating a selection from the Ginster buffet, slamming down Red Bull and getting high on M&M's. I wonder if he has invited anyone else?
www.petersmithcollective.co.uk Home Of Foreverbunny and the Impossimals
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