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Tales from the Convenience Store

Greetings and Hallucinations Kudos to the Eggman for getting the ball rolling with this wonderful occasional Blog. Being the lazy kinda guy I am combined with putting in entirely too many hours at my job in the C-Store, and the fact that I’ve never considered doing one for myself until he suggested it, set it up, and invited me to post here, well…Thanks Bro!

And now without further fluff, I give you:

Tales from the Convenience Store.

My name is unimportant. My job, however, is. I provide you with day to day necessities including sustenance, petrol, ice for your cooler, and refreshment. In return, you provide my company with a small (or sometimes large as the case may be) amount of cash, and me with endless entertainment. I deal with people from all walks of life, from the most wealthy millionaires, to the construction worker on the street, to the local crack whores and other dregs of society. I am the eyes and the ears of your community. Not one thing happens near your home without me knowing about it or silently witnessing it, all the while keeping a smile on my face and providing you with your late night cravings. Yes, I’m the clerk at your local convenience store. I take the abuse you dish out, sometimes handing it right back, sometimes taking it, or if you get too moronic with me I might even throw you out of the store, verbally or bodily, or even call the police on you. I thank you for your complements while cleaning up your trash and the other messes you carelessly leave behind you, wondering if it’s truly a ‘nesting thing’ when women leave shredded bits of toilet paper all over the bathroom floor and laughing heartily when a customer comments on the pretty girl that just walked out and how I’m lucky to have such a job. I gloat a bit during the summer months when the temperatures outside get up over 100 and I’m cool as a cucumber inside, and growl at the weather when thunderstorms blow my trashcans out into the highway leaving me yet another mess to clean. I am psychiatrist, bartender, social worker, employment agent, bodyguard, and best friend all rolled into one, but nobody ever really knows my name or who I really am.

Episode 1 – Don’t piss off the clerk.

So one moonlit Saturday evening I was working my graveyard shift and hustling to get my customers well taken care of, up drives this guy to my gas pump number 1. Now this wouldn’t be too terribly noteworthy save that good old number 1 had its hose ripped out earlier by an unwary patron who forgot to hang it up and drove off with it still dangling from their gas tank. Needless to say the pump was out of commission, and the guy was noted by me to be obviously drunk, stoned, or otherwise moronic.

We’ll call the guy Joe Schmuck.

Joe gets out of his car and proceeds to bother some of my inbound customers asking them for money (we call it panhandling around here). This is a HUGE no-no because it drives off business. One of my customers complains to me, giving me the full ‘go ahead’ by our company’s policy to call the police on poor Joe.

Joe doesn’t realize that I’m on the phone with police dispatch as he enters the store and pays for 2 dollars in gas with some money he’s just gotten from a customer. I take his money, set him up on a different pump, tell him which it is and why, and he exits the store. All the while police dispatch is keeping me on the line.

Now this is unusual. The dispatcher normally takes information, alerts the local beat officer, and hangs up. It’s pretty weird that she’s staying on the line with me. I decide to keep a very sharp eye on Joe since something’s obviously up.

Joe finishes pumping his gas and tries to exit the driveway. Since our store is set on a corner of a busy intersection it’s difficult to get into traffic. Since 18-wheelers frequently use both roads, and there’s a red-light, and Joe’s trying to turn left, well, we can pretty much guess that he gets blocked in by the big truck waiting on the light to turn green. Dispatch advises me there are units entering my parking lot from the other side and to let her know when they nab him.

Out of nowhere 5 (Yes, FIVE) police cars pull up, lights on and sirens blaring, and they take poor Joe down at gunpoint and haul him quickly away to jail.

This is pretty steep for just a drunk panhandler…

After the clean-up efforts, the K-9 officer that was working the case enters the store to get himself a free coffee and discuss the case with me and what I’d witnessed. With him is a plainclothes detective who was also in on the arrest. Turns out Joe was in a car he’d stolen about 2 hours prior and there was an all points bulletin out on him. Oops.

Moral of the story:
If you’re going to steal a car, DO NOT piss off the clerk where you’re buying your get-away gas!

Cya next time,
Written by l3lacklce

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