XLI. Moving On - January 8, 2007

The days at the station were getting longer and longer. I would sit in a state of catatonia wondering if my life would ever change. I was in a state of stasis. Forever trapped in what had become a boring, uneventful purgatory. Long gone were the days of tripping on acid and being tormented by retards. Gone were the days of looking down cute girl's tops. Gone were the days of battling brown recluses, wayward pigeons and crazy pixies. Now, it was just sitting around chain-smoking and watching "90210" reruns I'd already seen a million times before. It wasn't even fun to make fun of "Thunder in Paradise" anymore - a show where Hulk Hogan played a Navy Seal who, with his brainy partner, commanded a high-tech boat called "Thunder." That show used to be particularly fun to watch with Dustin. Whenever they showed the boat chasing after bad guys, the footage was sped up so the boat traveled impossibly fast. We'd always add our own dialogue, usually borrowing from "Star Wars": "Piloting Thunder isn't like dusting crops, boy! Without precise calculations you could bounce into the coast of Africa and slam into Australia and that'd end your trip real quick, wouldn't it?!"

As certain as I was I had gotten the job at Cerner, I had pretty much given up after not hearing from them for a couple of months. Susan reassured me that they were usually glacially slow in their hiring process. Sure enough, I received a phone call at the station one boring day. It was the "enabler" who had given me the itinerary prior to my interview! They were offering me a position as a programmer! I was in shock as I hung up the phone. This was a major coup for me. Cerner never hired anyone without a college degree, let alone high school dropouts.

Suddenly the gas station and all the little concerns about it seemed completely meaningless. I called Toad and gave him my two weeks notice. His response was somewhat pathetic. He was so used to employees just up and leaving without notice. I almost felt bad as he thanked me over and over for "doing it right."

I had more fun my final week at the station than I'd had since the days of doing acid while waiting on cars. I took the opportunity to put certain customers in their place. One day, a young man came in driving a pickup. He parked next to the pumps like he wanted gas, so I went out to take care of him.

"Hey, watcha need?"

"Check the oil."

"What?"

"Check the oil."

"Are you getting gas?"

It irritated me to no end when people did that. Our station charged nothing extra for full service and some shameless individuals didn't mind taking advantage of the fact. Now, Tom and Lee couldn't have cared less if we'd just told the deadbeats to get lost. But the gas station was Toad's life and he demanded everyone be treated with the utmost respect.

"Do I have to get gas to get you to check the oil?"

"That's usually how it works."

"Nevermind. I'll check it myself."

"Okay."

I went back inside and sat down at the desk. A few minutes later, the man came inside.

"I need a quart of oil. Do you sell that?"

I turned to the rows of oil sitting on shelves behind me, "What does it look like?"

"You know what. Fuck it. I'll go across the street. Asshole."

"Bye. Come back, now!" I called after him.

* * *

The gas station held one final surprise for me. I should have known I wouldn't be able to get away so easily.

The day started innocently enough, with Toad and Pedro leaving me to work alone until Poopie arrived. It wasn't like there was any business anymore. I probably could have handled the entire shift by myself.

Poopie arrived five minutes late with a wide grin on his face, "Poop!"

"Hey Poopie."

"Guess what!"

"I give up."

"I made a little Poopie!"

I pondered a moment. Did he mean he just shit himself? "A what?"

"Vanessa's pregnant! We're going to have a little Poopie!"

The mental picture burned itself into my mind's eye. I could envision Vanessa lying on a table like a lump of dough, shooting a little brown mound out of some unmentionable orifice.

"That's... disturbing."

"Darren?! Aren't you happy for us?"

"Sure, man. I'm certain you three will be happy living off of my tax money."

"You're just jealous!"

"My God."

Poopie ended up moving in with Vanessa Poopie, after I'd left the station, and they lived in bliss with their little Poopie for several months. Poopie collected disability for some mental disturbance from which he suffered while Vanessa collected all sorts of government benefits. It almost made me wish I was a single mother. Their relationship lasted all of three months before Vanessa kicked Poopie out for being a "lazy good-for-nothing." Not that she needed him around for income or anything. My tax dollars saw to that. Hell, she could have even gone to college for free. What a racket.

* * *

And so, the final night came. I counted my money and read the pumps and punched the codes on the credit card machine to spit out the printout of the night's receipts. I tore the day's page off the calendar and took a Polaroid Josh had taken of Tracy, Toad, Roy and me in the office and tucked it somewhere in the middle of the calendar so Toad would get it as a surprise some day in the future. I brought everything inside, locked the pumps and turned the "Closed" sign one last time. I left the station for the last time, locking the door behind me.

Posted by DevilMonkey at 12:22 AM

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Comments

That's some deep stuff man. I remember what it was like leaving the first job I ever held. Min wage, and doing manual labor. The job sucks, but it's always hard to walk away from the memories.

Curious to see if you stick it out with the programming, or possibly relapse back into drugs. Good updates man, keep them coming.

Posted by: werdbird at January 8, 2007 12:42 AM

Your blog is awesome. I feel your pain(?) of working in a gas station. I work at a BP Connect in Indianapolis, and I am besieged on all sides, as it were, by assholes, retards, and dumb, greedy bastards. I get constantly walked on and abused on a daily basis by the scum that patronizes this place, not to mention my manager, who is an uptight bitch and a complete tool. I'll spare you any detailed accounts, as there are many; suffice it to say that I'm tired of being walked on, and I can't wait to quit this job. Perhaps this quote from Mark Twain best explains my plight:
"You see in me the melancholy wreck of a once stalwart and magnificent manhood. What has brought me to this? That thing which you are about to tell. Gradually but surely, that tiresome old anecdote has sapped my strength, undermined my
constitution, withered my life. Pity my helplessness."

Replace "anecdote" with "my job", and there you have it. Only 2 months until I leave for boot camp! And I shall be free of its clutches!

Posted by: Jeff at January 8, 2007 04:21 AM

"lump of dough." That was the funniest thing I've heard probably in my entire life.

Posted by: Mitch at January 8, 2007 05:12 AM

Thank you for consistently updating. I'm curious to see how you do in the corporate world. Also curious to see if Tracy had even cared. Great entry, it is very weird to see you walk away from the gas station when it has been a part of your life since entry 1.

Posted by: Ben at January 8, 2007 12:48 PM

so does this end the adventure? if so, bravo. i doubt you'll have many interesting stories involving pixies, lsd, and opiates in the corporate world. The part about 'Vanessa lying on a table like a lump of dough, shooting a little brown mound out of some unmentionable orifice' had me in tears laughing. good stuff

Posted by: Troen at January 8, 2007 02:20 PM

I <3 U

Posted by: NoCro at January 8, 2007 05:10 PM

This entry convinced me of your ability. I had stopped reading your stories until tonight and this one took me back to the memory of some of your earlier ones...sadly being off drugs myself it adds my own memories. In other words you've really made me care about your character so congratulations.

Posted by: jarrod at January 13, 2007 12:20 AM

Ummm... Am I missing something? Please tell me you are going to continue with the story a bunch more and then end with White Dwarf later. There is not enough about the ending with Tracy and your time after. You are simply the BEST of all the RM blogs.

Posted by: christilee at January 15, 2007 02:34 PM

why did you remove the white dwarf entry?

dm: i apologize. there was a technical difficulty. we're trying t get it set up so that the three distinct parts of the story can appear idividually in the archives to make it easier for everyone to find what they're looking for. i guess we're still ironing out the bugs in that.

Posted by: Jeffy at January 15, 2007 04:06 PM