Dear Texaco Manager,
You know it’s bad when the GAS STATION runs out of gas, right?
It would have been really helpful if you had put up some signs or something. Instead… you watched me through a window as I tried 1400 ways to make the pump work. Then moved my car to try another pump.
And in the end… I got exactly eleven cents charged to my credit card.
Being the OCD chick that I am, I certainly DO need that receipt…
And it sucks that you were out of PAPER too.
So I sent Mr. Daddy in to get a receipt… not because I was ashamed of asking for an eleven cent receipt, but because I was getting really grumpy that we stopped for gas and were late to Itty Bit’s t-ball game - and STILL running on fumes.
(You’re welcome… Mr. Daddy was much nicer than I would have been.)
So I grumbled about the
“they shoulda put a sign up about being out of gas”
“can they at least refill the receipt thing?”
the kicker was still to come.
As we pulled out, I realized that you were back in your previous original spot… sitting outside of the pumps on concrete step…
(insert sound effect)
You’ve Officially UnEarned My Business
Dear Itty Bit,
I couldn’t help it.
Genetics are impossible to predict.
But I sure am sorry that you got your Momma’s OUCH gene.
(How did we both do this in the same week???)
Your Momma Who Is Helmet Shopping
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