Just the other day, I pulled up alongside a gasoline pump and as I reached for the handle a intercom voice said, "Sir, you are at a pre-paid pump, you'll have to come inside and pay first." I placed the handle back into the saddle and headed inside the store to leave my credit card. I returned to my auto and proceeded to perform the following tasks: (1) pumped gas, (2) cleaned windshields, (3) checked oil and tire pressure and (4) returned pump handle to saddle and walk back inside to sign off on my credit card. The young teenage cashier, who was sitting on a stool eating a candy bar and drinking a Mountain Dew, said nothing as he handed me my receipt. I turned and walked out.
As I settled back into the driver's seat, I got tickled. My spontaneous chuckle came suddenly as I thought of my two grandfathers who left this journey many years ago back in the late 1950's. I can imagine the reactions of Grandpa Frank Roustio and Grandpa E.V. Bennett engaging today's 'filling' station scenario.
These were men who grew up negotiating hard work, large family responsibilities, depression era poverty, oil lantern lighting and walking through winter's snow to use an outhouse and wiping their butts with catalog paper. One worked the Kentucky coal mines as a young man the other fought the city factory dirt and stench. Hard work and hardships 'honed' the character of their generation. They grew up in times in which they gave much in service and demanded the same service. They expected a 'filling-station attendant(s)' to do all the aforementioned auto attention duties plus wisk-broom sweep their floorboard and bring change back to them sitting in their auto.
That generation is no longer; nope, dummies like me 'do the service work of others and pay them for the privilege to do so.'
Heavens, I'm ashamed to admit it but I even ate lunch at a 'Tea Room' recently.
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