That’s What She Said: Fulll Service and so much more
- Dawn Dumont | March 01, 2019
The other day, I went to one of those gas stations with the pay before you pump requirement. There is nothing so cruel in chilling weather as gas stations that make you run inside to pay before you pump gas (or pay at the cold ass machine that takes minutes to process your payment because it’s minus thirty outside and nothing works in minus thirty, not even fingers.)
But like the good little sheep that I am, I pay. I follow the prompts and steps to pay for my gas. And my reward is that painful wait at the end when that every last excruciating penny slips out like molasses on a cold day. By the time I’m finished, I feel like screaming, “fascists!” into the cold wind. But instead I jump back into my car and curse myself for never having gloves.
This is why it’s always best to stick to Native gas stations. They’re almost all full service and have even more benefits.
Like when you go inside the gas station, there’s a selection of crafts, like beaded earrings. All the young girls these days are moving towards the beaded medallion earrings. But I’m old school, I like the long dangly earrings best. Although I have to be careful - the longer earrings, the more single you are. I always take the time to read the bulletin boards advertising the latest steak nights, round-dances and hockey tournaments, reminding me that there are other things to do with my evenings than watch Netflix. But despite my full tank of gas, I will continue to watch Netflix until the polar vortex has vortexed the hell out of here.
Then there’s hot coffee available, you just have to elbow the gas jockeys out of the way for a cup. Most stations also have the option of hot chocolate so sweet that it drills a hole in your stomach.
I find the Native gas station cashiers provide the best service. Out of kindness, they overlook my ten years old Status Card pic. (I cannot replace it as the picture is literally the best picture ever taken of me. That picture will be used in my obituary.)
One of the highlights of the native gas station experience is any interaction with the gas jockeys. They’re always quick to the pump in their parkas and they don’t judge my cheap-ass ways.
“Fill it up.”
“What do I look like - a millionaire? Of course, regular.”
Sometimes they can be a bit flirty. Many moons ago, as I was walking past a couple jockeys, I overhead one of them say, “She looks like she just has one kid.” Which I guess is opposed to how someone is expected to look when they have a lot of kids.
Although at the time, I did not have any kids at all. So, I wasn’t sure what to do with that comment.
Another time, the gas jockeys were bored when I pulled up. So one asked to check my oil, another asked to check my windshield wiper fluid, another to check my transmission – which I didn’t even know existed.
Where else can you get cheeky service like that?
The tax free gas is nice but as many non-First Nations people have pointed out to me, Costco sometimes has even cheaper gas. But I look like Frankenstein in my Costco pic, so I’ll stick to Native gas stations.