How I made the lady at the gas station think I’m a dick

Written on December 8th, 2012 by Edward

I’ve not felt to well the past couple days, just random sickness, I guess. But for some reason today when I woke up, not only did I not feel well, but for some reason my back also hurt horribly as well. Honestly I’ve no idea exactly what I did, but apparently I fucked something up while sleeping.

I’ve felt this way before, but not in a long time. Last time I’d had terrible internal pains like these was a few years back. I’d gotten extremely sick, went to various doctors, and never got a clear answer as to what had caused it.

Supposedly I’d developed some issues with my pancreas, my gallbladder, and liver. At one point it got so bad that I developed a blockage in my Primary Bile Duct. Which resulted in a case of jaundice. Basically, there was something (possibly a gall stone), completely blocking the primary bile duct, thus resulting in my gallbladder, being unable to relieve itself of the bile it was storing…and eventually causing my liver to stop functioning, resulting in toxins building up in my system, causing jaundice.

Funny part about all this, is I didn’t actually even consider going to the doctor, until I started turning Yellow. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking “Fuck I look like a simpsons character.” Then later that day, my piss was the color of iced tea, and my shit was white…like bird shit (cept not runny, or flying through the air towards your cars windshield/open mouth). That is what resulted in my actually going to the doctor. Which is sorta ridiculous really.

Anyways, I don’t think this is the same thing really…But its a similar pain for sure. Though no where near as severe. That said, It didn’t really start off that severe the first time around. So who knows, maybe this is my first step down a journey of horrible pain again? Lets cross our fingers, and do other things that won’t help anything though. Just to be safe.

Either way, I was told back then by my doctor, that all of that may have been brought on, due to my extremely calorie restricted diet. Basically, I’d limited myself to 800 calories a day, and after 6 months or so…it apparently fucked me all up. But, ya know…Its better to look good, and be sick/dead, than to look like shit and live forever.

Well, for the past 5 months or so, I’ve been on another self inflicted calorie restricted diet. Though no where near as restricted as before. I’ve just not allowed myself to drink any sugary beverages (other than natural juices with no added sugar, and the occasional “Sioux City Sarsperilla”), and have been drinking diet pop rather than my typical Gallon of Dr. Pepper a day. I’ve also tried to limit my calories from food, but not been very strict about it. So in a way, it wouldn’t be too surprising that I’m getting sick again.

So that being what it is. I figured, if I was getting sick again, it may be due to my lack of sugar/calories, and figured it’d be best to get my self some sort of sugary, un-healthy beverage. Just to see if it made a difference.

So around 8pm today I drove to a local gas station, and got myself a root beer from their “Soda Fountain” (cause ya know, I apparently reside in 1950′s Omaha). Turns out this trip to that gas station would result in the attendant thinking I am a big ole’dick.

So I grab the pop, and head to the register. Once the guy in front of me (who was buying 3 four Loko’s, a carton of Marlboro lights, and a box of life style condoms…thus implying he is going to intoxicate, and then rape a middle schooler) was done, I moved up in line.
The Attendant immediately asked me “Hows your day been today?” to which I replied “Eh, its been alright.” At this point I handed her a dollar, and she fucked around with her cash register for a second, then handed me change and then asked me “Why is it that every time you come in here, when I ask you how you’re doing, you’ve never once asked how I’m doing?”

“Well, honestly…I’m just here to buy something to drink. I don’t really wanna get involved in a long conversation, involving the details of your day. Plus, I’m pretty sure asking me how I’m doing is simply part of your job. An lets face it, you don’t really give a shit about how my day actually went.” I explained.
“Actually, its not part of my Job. It just seems like the polite thing to do.” She told me.
“Oh, well, Ok…I figured it was part of your Job.”
“No, Its just nice.”
“Ok, well…I don’t ask, cause I don’t want to. I’m here to get a beverage, not discuss to have a conversation with a random person. I doubt you genuinely care about how my day was, so it seems odd to act like I care about your day, simply to be polite.”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m just saying…I honestly don’t care how your day went. Its not like we know each other. Why would you care how my day went? I don’t care how your day has been. I’m here to buy a drink, not have a conversation, about, well, Anything. Sorry.”
“Wow, thats really nice.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m just not a nice or polite person.”
“Yeah…”
“I mean really…No offense, but I’m not gonna stand here, and exchange social niceties, simply to do it. Theres no reason to do that.”
“Its just Polite.”
“Right, but ultimately pointless…since, honestly…We don’t know each other…I’m just some guy, buying a beverage. And you’re just some lady, working at a gas station. Its not like we hang out, or anything. So yeah. No reason to waste anyone’s time.”
“Real nice…Anyways, thanks for your purchase, have a nice day.”
“Uh, ok.”

That is when I left. Got back out to my Van, and found my dog (Roxy) sitting in my seat. Licking the steering wheel.

Now, honestly…I understand, it does sorta make me a dick, to genuinely not care at all about how her day went. But really, why the fuck would I? I don’t know her, she doesn’t know me. Theres no real reason for either of us to give a shit one way or the other about the events of each others day. Makes no sense. There’s people I personally know, that I don’t even wanna know the details of their day. So why would I wanna know how a complete strangers day has gone? That makes no sense.

— Edward

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