Seriously, when we’re busy or stressed, we all make mistakes or
misremember things.
I was home from Hawaii to Illinois for my grandmother’s funeral. This
was back in the day. My father gave me his car to drive, and he took
the shop car. His car was a Cadillac Coupe DeVille, so it took
premium gas. In Hawaii, I drove a VW squareback, which took regular.
I’d been living away from home for about many years at that point,
IIRC, and would usually fill up at his business when I was in town
and driving his car, per his instructions to do so. The shop was
closed that day. When the shop was closed, I’d been instructed to
fill up at the Standard station at the intersection down from the
shop, and just sign for it.
So I pulled into the Standard station, rolled down my window. The
attendant (yes, back when there were attendants) greeted me and asked
what he could do. I’d been lost in thought about my grandmother, and
suddenly realized he’d asked me something and I needed to answer, but
I’d forgotten what the gasoline was called that my father put in his
car. All I could remember was that it ended with an L, so I asked
politely for him to fill it up with menthol. The look on his face was
priceless.
I started laughing so hard, I was afraid I’d hurt myself. He inquired
politely, “Do you mean Ethyl” to which I screamed, “Yes, Ethyl!” in
between gasps of air and guffaws. He filled it, cleaned all the
windows, and I drove off thinking he probably thought I was a maroon.
I never went back to that gas station. If I had to fill up during
later trips, I just went somewhere else and paid for it out of my
pocket.
Seriously, when we’re busy or stressed, we all make mistakes or
misremember things.
I was home from Hawaii to Illinois for my grandmother’s funeral. This
was back in the day. My father gave me his car to drive, and he took
the shop car. His car was a Cadillac Coupe DeVille, so it took
premium gas. In Hawaii, I drove a VW squareback, which took regular.
I’d been living away from home for about many years at that point,
IIRC, and would usually fill up at his business when I was in town
and driving his car, per his instructions to do so. The shop was
closed that day. When the shop was closed, I’d been instructed to
fill up at the Standard station at the intersection down from the
shop, and just sign for it.
So I pulled into the Standard station, rolled down my window. The
attendant (yes, back when there were attendants) greeted me and asked
what he could do. I’d been lost in thought about my grandmother, and
suddenly realized he’d asked me something and I needed to answer, but
I’d forgotten what the gasoline was called that my father put in his
car. All I could remember was that it ended with an L, so I asked
politely for him to fill it up with menthol. The look on his face was
priceless.
I started laughing so hard, I was afraid I’d hurt myself. He inquired
politely, “Do you mean Ethyl” to which I screamed, “Yes, Ethyl!” in
between gasps of air and guffaws. He filled it, cleaned all the
windows, and I drove off thinking he probably thought I was a maroon.
I never went back to that gas station. If I had to fill up during
later trips, I just went somewhere else and paid for it out of my
pocket.
My point being, there are maroons, and then there are MAROONS. So
don’t beat yourself up for the minor distracted errors you might
make. Wait for the BIG distracted errors to beat yourself up.
My point being, there are maroons, and then there are MAROONS. So
don’t beat yourself up for the minor distracted errors you might
make. Wait for the BIG distracted errors to beat yourself up. :)[/color]
So my response to Susan’s comment is…
Oh I wasn’t beating myself up over it, was just commenting on my
maroonish action. =)