Monday Night at the Chevron

 
Chevron

I like the sodas at Chevron . . . they’re not restaurant quality, but they’re better than the flat, tasteless sodas you get at most other gas stations.

On the downside, Chevron as often as not has some donate-a-buck-to-charity shakedown going on at the register. Today the place is plastered with photos of bald children with brave smiles on their faces . . .

“Would you like to donate to St. Jude pediatric cancer research?” the clerk asks.

“I already donated two dollars last week and they haven’t cured it yet?”

 

Meanwhile, I notice another employee plucking all the hot dogs off the rotisserie with a pair of tongs and dropping them in a trash can . . .

“You have to throw those out if they sit too long?” I ask the clerk.

“Yes.”

“Do you ever pluck a couple off and eat them if you’re hungry?”

“No,” he says, with the kind of look someone would give you if you asked them to eat something inedible . . .

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