Full Force

So it seems like all the freaky weirdos and psychos have been saving up their special powers to make my return night to graveyards oh so extra special.
 
The succeeded!
 
Not only were there the drunks and the weirdos, and the creepy people who only seem to ever live in cloverdale (I think there is something in the cloverdale water supply that makes people look and act especially homely... thankfully I'm on well water)
 
But there were a few special people that deserve honourable mentions in my blog.
 
I'll start witha  rather mundane person, and build up to the really fun person. I hope you don't mind, but in my eyes the stories are going to get progressively more entertaining in this one.
 
I'll start off with a man, a plan, a canal... I mean pump... Sorry, I'm sleepy. So a guy pulls up to the pumps, and lifts up the nosal. Of course, there is a beeping sound inside to tell me someone somewhere has picked up a nosal (my spidey senses are tingling)... I do my little speech over the intercom "blah blah blah prepay/pay at the pump only blah blah blah" and all is fine and dandy. he starts walking to the door. he opens the door, half steps inside and asks me "I can prepay at the pump, right?"... I did say pay at the pump, but for the sake of getting him out as quickly as possible, I just smile and nod. He leaves, back to his car, hangs up the nosal and inserts his card (I know he inserted it because my compter... err spidey senses... tell me so)... Thats when he decided not to enter his pin. I know so again because of my spidey senses... Afetr timing out (just like regular debit, if you wait too long the machine cancells your transaction) he comes inside to tell me that the pump is broken. I, at the time, was dealing with the other 8 or so customers who were waiting their turn (for some reason the really stupid people tend to think that ines do not apply to them...) and ignored him until I had a spare second... in that time, he had gone back out to his car and moved to a different pump. Lo and behold, this pump was 'broken' too (he didnt choose which grade of gasoline he wanted). Again he came in to complain about the broken pump. I was still dealing with some customers, but I afforded him a sidewards glance an offered a solution. "Follow the directions on the pump... you're not doing it right!" he gave me the 'you don't know what youre talking about, the pump is obviuously broken' look... But upon returning to his car, the pump was miraculously healed and able to be pumped from... Some people would say that he smartened up, but I would like to think that the oil stain on the pavement that looks like the Virgin Mother may have had something to do with it --Thanks Jesus ;)
 
Next we have the a crack fiend... I have a lot of these visit the store, its kinda like gangsta's in Detroit or bad haircuts in Saskatoon-- they're all over the place. But this one was something special. He comes by and asks if I can make change for his $50 bill. I respond no. I am working by myself, in a gas station that has been robbed twice in the last six months, and has been offered hundreds of dollars worth of fake bills. Needless to say, I dont usually carry anything more than a five, and I rarely have change for a $50 or $100 (Not to mention the fact that there are places that get far more traffic and have far more emplyees on staff that will not accept 50's or 100's... let alone during the graveyard shift.) So he starts begging... 'don't you have any toonies or loonies or anything you can trade for $50' at this time alarm bells start going off. Not only is he looking to get change, he is willing to get less back in return. I don't know if you know the nature of crackheads, but generally they tend to be the type picking cigarette butts off the ground to get the left over tobacco, or eating the $0.05 candies that have fallen on the ground in the candy isle. Giving money away does not seem to be their stong point. Needless to say, I refuse all attempts on his part to persuade me to give him money in exchange for his $50. He leaves. The same man comes back about an hour later... Wearing a different (cleaner) shirt, Ill have you (I think he thought I was fooled... but I wasn't... unless there are two of them... scary thought)... Anyways, he begins by stating that he needs coin for the payphone and asks if I can help him out. I have no problem giving coin out in most circumstances. For me it's not even really an issue. I accept, and out comes a $50... back to square one. Can't accept it, no excpetions, blah blah blah... He asks me how much he has to spend before I'll accept it. I tell him near all of it, and thats if I can examine it to make sure its real... He promptly leaves the store...
 
He comes back at about 5am. Thistime he's got about $20 worth of silver coin for me to count. he's lucky I had nothing better to do, and that we have a counting device... I assume that the coin was for his dealer, cuz his dealer showed up before we had finished counting out all the nickels... And they started haggling the price of the 'rocks' inside the store (and I highly doubt that these were special stones for his koi pond)...
 
This sounds like a good time to bring up my third and bestest eprson of the day. The dealer. No longer had a price been agreed, and a certain crack fiend left to his car (I assume to grab another fifty dollars or so) when the dealer began trying to sell me some stuff. Now under most circumstances I would have just asked him to go... but, he was busy writing down his cell number so that if I changed my mind, he could be my supplier... right their, in my store. After I told him I had never done drugs in my life. I should have told him that if I wanted to try drugs, I have family members with better connnections than him, but I figured that he's just an entrepeneur, and that i shouldn't be too mean...
 
I intended to call the cops with my new found drug dealer ph#... but I didn't, cuz the dealer had my name and the location of my work... And with a failing gun registry and all, I dont think that would be cool...