What'da?!

It was a Tuesday morning. I had left my house a little later than usual (and in a panic) -- I'm a stickler for being punctual, you see. And crap, I had to fill up my gas tank. I drove to the closest BP, pulled in, and waited patiently. Somewhere between waiting patiently and freaking out, I must've leered angrily into the little deli shack.

A man finally creeps out in a ghetto-fab swagger with cell phone in hand. Hours later (or at least it felt like that), he gets to my window. I hand him my gas card and say, "Fill it up, regular, please." (Even in anger, I would never forget "please.") So finally -- I have gas!

Then I thought, hey, I'm this late anyway, let me run in to get a Coffee Frapuccino for the drive. I run into the little deli shack to make my purchase. My gas attendant was inside, and he just says under his breath, "Look at this one." I then say, "Excuse me?!" Then he goes, "You'd be really pretty if you would just smile more."

I proceed to tell him off ... "I don't have to smile if I don't want to. Maybe I'm having a bad day. Maybe there are things going on in my life that don't equate a smile. Maybe ... And why am I even justifying why I don't smile to you?!" And the man goes, "Look -- I don't even work here."

I look at him dumbfounded ... "But ... why ... ?" came out of my mouth. What I meant to say was "Why on earth would you fill up my gas tank if you don't work here? Good lord!" The fellow customer then says, "You were lookin' all upset, figured you could use the help."

Quiet, my Target ballet flats just slinked right on out of there.