Priming the Pump.

You know that saying 'Oh Thank Heaven for 7-Eleven'?..
I have some issues with it.

For starters, I don't even like Slurpees that much. Sonic's CreamSlush are so much better. We're talking eons better.
They're as different as hotdogs and corndogs.

But the real reason I'm not a fan is that, up until today, I was unable to master their stinkin' P.O.S. gas pumps. Laugh if you will, but it's true.

How I was mystified by a phenomenon that nearly every human being over the age of 16 has somehow seamlessly mastered continues to concern me.

But regardless, every day for work, I run the same errands. Bank. DMV. Post office. And every day, I am in the same vicinity of exactly ONE gas station.

You guessed it: 7-freaking-Eleven.

So what happens should I need gas, you might ask?
I go out of my way to find a Chevron. Because they have Techron.

And I don't feel like such an moron when I'm there.

So in a moment of bravery a few weeks ago, I felt determined to figure out why in the blazes 7-Eleven's dang pumps would not put petrol into my tank. I pushed all the right buttons. I followed the directions on the screen perfectly. Nothing.

Thinking perhaps it was a faulty pump, I flipped around into a different stall. Tried it all again. Twice.
Dang-blasted thing STILL wouldn't dispense a single drop.

So refusing to make a bigger idiot of myself than I already had, I did the only logical thing a person of my great intelligence could do: I brought the husband back later to try his hand. It had to be some type of malfunction.

I waited in the passenger seat as he stepped from the car, beeped a few buttons and was instantly granted fuel to his hearts desire. I was flabbergasted!
And irritated..

I only know of one other person with such magical abilities: my pops.
And I don't need patronizing from anyone else.

So today, when my gas meter gave its last sigh and dropped to empty, I knew what I had to do: flip that puppy around and defeat my dreaded enemy.

I'll have you know that it only took fifteen minutes and two attempts to figure out that when the screen tells you to 'remove nozzle and life handle', it isn't talking about the same handle that every other gas station in the known universe is referring to.

And why should it??..

Oh-ho-ho-no.
It's talking about the actual stirrup the nozzle rests in, a plastic hammock if you will. A fact that is documented neatly in two small icons, relative in size to a pea, located three feet from any other noted instructions.

Only after studying this diagram up close was I able to determine what exactly the gas pump from Hell wanted.

And so I emerged $41 poorer and victorious. In a manner of speaking.

Because really, I am still astounded at my ineptitude.