How I long for the good old days, when gas pumps were hand-cranked and the fueling process only took about an hour or two. Granted, those days took place long before most of you were born, but believe me when I say that the process of getting gas took less time than it does today with these computerized high-tech pumps.
Here's what I mean. You pull up to the pump, slide your credit or debit card through, and you are instantly bombarded with questions asked by the pump.
Would you like a receipt? Yes or No.
"No"
Do you have a rewards card? Yes or No.
"No", you mutter angrily.
Do you want a rewards card? Yes or no.
"No."
Would you like a car wash? Yes or No.
"A car wash?" you ask. "It's pouring down rain, and all I want is five bucks worth of gas."
Would you like to try one of our new six-inch subs? Yes or No.
"No! For Pete's sake, I just want gas!"
Please enter your zip code.
"Zip code? What does a gas pump need with my zip code?" you ask, while typing in to the keypad "17834".
Zip code not found, please try again.
"Whattya mean zip code not found?" you shout at the pump. "I've been living at the same address for 15 years. I think I should know my zip code." You enter it again, this time more carefully: 17834.
Zip code not found. Please type in the name of your town.
"I can't type in the name of my town, there aren't any letters on this stupid keypad, only numbers and yes and no!" Then you see the ENTER button. It's the only one you haven't tried, so you press it.
Transaction failed. Please try again.
"You evil scumsucking son of a bitch!" you shout, and then kick the pump.
Would you like to sign up for an anger management class? Yes or no.
"No!"
Do you have a rewards card? Yes or no.
"You asked me that already! Please, I beg you, give me some gas" you plead, tears of frustration streaming down your cheek. Luckily no one can see them in the pouring rain.
Is Reno the capital of Nevada? Yes or no.
"No, you dumb gas pump, it's Carson City."
Please slide your card through the reader, and then press Enter.
"I already did that. Four times."
Transaction failed, please see cashier.
"You can go to hell!" you shout at the pump, wrapping your hands tightly around the black hose, trying to strangle it. The nozzle sputters a few drops before it dies. You get back into your car, floor the accelerator, and nearly run over the troop of Girl Scouts getting out of a purple Dodge Caravan. They shout something at you, and you roll down the window and shoot them the finger. Then you drive away, hoping you have enough fuel left to make it to a different gas station, all the while reconsidering your opinion on fuel-efficient hybrid electric cars.
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