Spending a Dollar-Fifty at a Gas Station and Leaving With Less in the Tank
Joseph Aaron Lippert
Grad Student
Spending a Dollar-Fifty at a Gas Station and Leaving With Less in the Tank
It’s 4 p.m. on a sunny afternoon in Phuket, Thailand. After some casual f*ckinabout, I notice the gas gauge on my motorbike closing in on E.
As I pull into the station, the Thai-lady attendant cheerfully waves me up to the pump. She’s skinny, ugly, and dentally-challenged. Despite her haggard appearance, she smiles warmly. As she moves to put the spout in the tank, I inform her of the amount I desire.
“See-sip-baht” (40 Thai baht) I clearly state, as I’ve only got 44 on me, total.
She smiles, laughs comically, and starts pumping away. Before I realize what’s happened, she stops the pump, looks at me retardedly, and declares, “Six-ty baht.”
I stare, dumbfounded, first at her, then at the pump. Sure as shit, she’s pumped sixty baht worth of gas. I stare back and politely say, “I say SEE-SIP-BAHT.”
The cunt (yeah, most of the world hates that word, and it is the surest way to get slapped by a woman, but sometimes it just fits…) keeps smiling with that dumbass, toothless, know-nothing grin.
The young French couple behind me looks confused. I address them, “Maybe you should find another pump. This might take awhile.” More giggling and Downs-ish smirking from the hag. She’s obviously part of the small segment of the (usually wonderful) local population, enjoys fucking with farang tourists for no reason. She points at the French like I’m supposed to hit them up for the money. Again I stare at this ridiculous lady…
“I say SEE-SIP-BAHT.” She keeps giggling and smiling, and again points to the French.
“What is thee problem?” he asks, his voice heavy with Frog.
“I tell her 40 baht and she pumped sixty.” I replied. “I only have 44.” I never ask, or even feign with my body language, if he’d help me out-I’ve got too much pride for begging.
“A-T-M?” I inquire of the toothy bitch.
She smiles and looks at me weird, without uttering a word. An awkward pause…
“A-T-M?” I ask again, trying to stay calm and maintain ‘face’. While the urge to explode on this hag is overwhelming, getting mad will only hurt my case. ‘Face’, with regards to one’s personal interactions, is the most important thing that exists in most Asian cultures, and losing it is not only a massive no-no, but it would completely blow to hell any chance of successfully resolving my situation.
Finally she points to the building. I spy an ATM and head in its direction. WTF?-I say to myself as I walk over. Seriously?
I get to the machine, insert my card, and mechanically begin going through the prompts. I type in 5000 THB (about $160 USD). May as well keep the transactions big if the ATMs are going to squeeze 150 baht/per out of me; on top of the 3% my bank charges.
The magic machine rumbles longer than it should. I have an anxious moment wondering what’s going on. Suddenly ‘insufficient information on card’ comes up. WTF!?! Not good. I told them to put a travel alert on that thing weeks ago. Nothing I can do from here. WTF!?!
I walk back to the pump, thoroughly dejected, and dumbfounded as to what’s just happened, and what to do now.
Frenchy wishes me good luck as he pulls away, slightly chubby femme on the back. I saunter back to the dirty rotten spinster.
“Card not work. Only have See-sip-baht.” She giggles some more and we share another awkward moment. I shrug my shoulders. There’s nothing else I can do right now. Between the hag’s obviously intentional mistake, and the enraging news of my bank hanging me out to dry, I’m speechless.
The Wicked Witch goes behind her hut and comes back with a bottle and hose. It’s clear that siphoning is the only possibility right now. I just stare, open-mouthed.
She puts the hose in my tank, sucks quickly on the other end, and then places it in the devil receptacle. The gasoline starts flowing out of my machine. I just stare, open-mouthed. “WTF?” I say under my breath. A sinking feeling takes root in my stomach.
This is clearly taking too long. There’s no way she’s only taken sixteen THB worth of petrol out-well, whatever, a little extra for my idiocy.
Still going, still going…WTF?
She looks into my tank. Still going…
I just stare, open-mouthed.
Finally, I grab the hose, and she removes it from my tank; making sure every bit still in the tube makes it to her container…
I just stand there, blankly staring, as the bitch proceeds to remove all 44 baht from my hand. NO FUCKING WAY…
As she takes my money to the counter, I lift the devil bottle. There has got to be close to two liters in there. 44 baht should have bought me one and a half liters for my bike. NO FUCKING WAY!
I stand there, completely dumbfounded, for about 30 seconds. Twatface smiles, giggles, and signals for me to leave.
I silently strap on my helmet. I get back on my bike. I pull out of the station with the same shocked, dumbass expression of the past 4 minutes still plastered to my face.
I turn towards my guesthouse, knowing I’ve got some grave problems with this card thing. Somehow I need to do serious Internet work, and call the States, without any money. This is definitely a problem.
I look down at my bike’s gauge. It’s closer to empty than it was before I stopped at the station…