No Rockstar for you 

 

By P.S. Gifford

 

Not all, driving accounts are about actual driving. Some are about the life style involved. Working fourteen hour days on the busiest holidays, rolling home at five in the morning, exhausted but still unable to sleep. It is a challenge to relationships as I learnt the hard way. My fiancée dumped me over it- but only told me her reasoning post-dump.

 

We also strive on caffeine. This is about meeting that addiction.

 

So, I rarely complain. Particularly in recent years...but yesterday some lady got my dander all worked up.

I start each driving day by filling up my tank at a nearby Arco. Driving for a living means lots of fuel. I was feeling lethargic so I went in to see if they had any coffee. They did not...but I noted they had Rockstars two for four buckaroos. Knowing I would probably appreciate one on NYE also I pick out two ginger ones and go to the registrar. There was a lady in front of me attempting to pay for gas but, apparently, the credit card system was down and the cashier was rebooting it. After five minutes it appeared that it is was all sorted and I walked up to pay.

The cashier did not speak. She rang them up and I put my card in the slot. It came up as processing.

She finally spoke and told me she is going to cancel the first transaction. She rang them up again and I repeat the process. It came up processing again.

"Sorry" she mumbled, "credit card down..."

Reluctantly I leave without my invigorating ice cold beverages. Ten minutes later I pass another Arco and pull in as now I was craving Rockstars. I checked my bank balance on line to discover both transactions had indeed gone through.

Miffed I head off back to the first Arco.  ... grumpy and losing money as I was not working.

With my cell phone in hand, with my bank account still on the screen, I march back in. I showed her.

"The second one is a credit," she informed me with a triumphant smarmy tone.

"No it is not," I countered. Being untypically assertive.

We argued for a few moments and she called over the owner who was in the back office doing whatever gas station owners do in an office.

"This man wants free drinks," she told him in a huffy tone.

I showed him my balance, he shook his head, and told me to get four drinks. Victory. I shook his hand, grabbed my ice cold bevvies, and left as the cashier stared me down.

As I get into my car I hear the owner yelling at her.

Vindicated.

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