A long time ago (almost four years!), I posted a bit about working at the gas station and fucking with customers who were assholes. I followed that up with an idea to post more stories from that point of my life. Which I never did. Until today!
WARNING: These stories will not be in any chronological order! So for those of you who know these stories or were involved in them, if your recollection tells you story a happened before story b, but after story c - you're probably right. Do me a favor and remind me of that.
Way back in 1994, I was a junior in high school, had just turned 16, and had just gotten my driver's license. All of these things were great, but I had no car and no job to give me the money I needed to get a car. I had pounded the pavement all summer long trying to find a job before school started to maximize my car savings, but came up empty handed.
My dad, watching my plight with the pity that fathers have for their bumbling teenage sons, took me over to the gas station his friend owned. They had been friends for the better part of a decade, maybe longer - I can't remember now, how long they had known each other, but I do remember that dad's friend (soon to become The Boss!) had given me my first wedgie when I was still knee high to a grasshopper.
My very first job interview was a five minute conversation that assessed whether or not I could check engine oil (I could), stock coolers (I could), and mop floors (I could). I was given the job on the spot, with a schedule that fit in nicely with my life at the time - weekdays after school until 9 (except for Tuesdays - I had guitar lessons with my stoner guitar teacher on Tuesdays) and Saturdays from 12 - 6.
I left with a job, excited to be on my way to owning my first car. Little did I know that the Station would become the hub of my life for the next two and a half years.
