"Pumped"

  By Thom Calandra

  Copyright © 2007, Thom Calandra

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY AUTHOR

At the ARCO gasoline station I sometimes use in Mill Valley, Calif., motorists are smiling at each other. Lately, the smiles happen in the bay closest to the road, as I head toward Sausalito, the next town down where I live. I coast my old black car alongside a pump, get out ... and more often than not these days, I can count on something happening, something with another driver. A few weeks ago, it was some lady dressed in black tee-shirt, black high heels, black jeans, a Latin looking lady, telling me 'nice black car, very nice,' as she filled the tank of her pick-up. Now lookie here, my black car is nothing special; it gets 23 miles per gallon and has been for 10 years. That's all I can say about it, really -- I don't even wax it. It's not even worth telling you the make and model. But that lady seemed to like it a lot, even asked me if it was for sale.

Today, it was another lady at the ARCO, a nice enough lady with the sweetest smile I've ever seen between gas pumps. She was reaching into her wagon. 'Could you help me for one moment?' she asked as I walked over to the machine between her pump and mine, the money machine that takes your debit card for the gasoline. She had a wire hanger in one hand, and she was fiddling with the seatside latch that springs open the gasoline cap on the side of the car. Seems the little gas cap cover was stuck, and she needed a little coordination to get it open. I pulled the little latch inside the car, and she snapped open the cover on the side of the car with her hanger. You couldn't do it if you were alone, unless you had long arms, freakishly long arms. Well, it worked, and I went to pumping my own gas. This woman said 'thank you' three times and spent the next three minutes smiling at me as she pumped her gas. So I smiled. She waved good-bye when I pulled away.

Self-service gasoline stations are not supposed to be friendly places -- at least, that's what we all come to learn after 20 or 30 or 40 years of pumping gas in suburban USA. You glide in, pump, slosh-wipe the windows, fidget with your keys, glide away. With fuel at $3.49 a gallon, most folks probably look at their once or twice-a-week stop at the station as a duty, like vacuuming the dust mites from under the bed. Get it done, no need to talk to the mites. But what's happening is this: people are becoming sociable at the gas station. They're spending $40 to $80 on gasoline, and I think they're looking for some way to leverage the outlay with a bit of networking, maybe a manicure if they could? It's like Whole Foods ... most folks linger next to the organic mangoes and 12-grain baguettes. Who wants to speed-shop a boutique, especially when you're spending a few hundred dollars for the fresh fruit? I can't go to that ARCO station anymore without someone smiling at me, saying something nice about my bumper stickers. I swear, it's always something. Especially now we have $3 gas. The gasoline stations are our freshest new boutiques. Status sells, and makes people slow down and smile. I think that nice lady is looking for reasons to extend her stay at the ARCO. OK, it's $3 a gallon Venezuela-sourced gas, but it's only a debit on your affinity card. Our sweet American motorist is going to enjoy spending it.

Most gas stations these days are practically grocery stores and restaurants anyway. There's a 16-pump place up the road that makes more money each day off the smell-good trinkets, gadgets, propane tanks and car wash it sells from the convenience shop next door than it does on the gasoline, and that's saying something. Next time you go for a fill-up, check to see how happy everyone is pumping their $3 gas and looking to spend a little extra time and money on accessories and small chat. This is no joke. Maybe they've just been overseas and they remember the $6-a-gallon gas they pumped into their rented Audi or Fiat. I think it's something more personal, even borderline spiritual: We're a nice people, this is a nice gas station. The sun is shining. We have nice cars and trucks. Have a Peet's. The satellite radio works fine. Take some deep Alpha breaths. Smile when you pump. See you soon.

About the Author

Thom Calandra’s novel “Pablo By Numbers” was excerpted in autumn 2007 on the StockHouse.com group of web sites in Canada and the USA. Thom was a co-founder and a columnist and broadcaster at CBS MarketWatch.