One of the greatest inventions of the last 50 years has to be the credit card reader that some genius decided to install on gasoline pumps so that one could fill up their car without having to step foot inside the store.
I say this person was a genius. It may just have been someone who, like me, had grown weary of standing in line behind someone buying 20 Fantasy 5 tickets and a half-dozen scratch-offs, before having a lengthy debate with himself about whether he wanted red-box Marlboros or gold-box Marlboros.
Most of us now pull up to the pump, insert our credit card, pump our gas and then drive off, without ever giving a second thought to going inside the store. This became a problem for convenience stores. Inside is where the Coca-Colas are, the Snickers bars, the pork skins – all those things you used to be tempted to buy when you went inside to pay for your gas.
The convenience of paying at the pump has brought us a long way from full-service gasoline stations. If you’re much younger than I am, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.
Today, we don’t have gas stations. We have convenience stores that happen to have a couple of gas pumps outside. Full-service stations have gone the way of the 10-cent Coca-Cola and the corded phone because somewhere along the way, someone decided we could pump our own gas.
I’m OK with that. I’ve become very adept at pumping my own gas. And of course, I love the fact that I can pull up to the pump and pay right. But now stores are fighting back, trying to get us pay-and-goers back inside.
I recently switched places where I buy gas, because the station nearest my office generally sells gas for three cents less than the old store. I don’t really know why that matters. On a full tank of gas, I’m saving 45 cents. Woo hoo! In about 25 fill-ups, I’ll have saved enough money for lunch.
Anyway, the new station has fancier, touchscreen pumps than the old one. After I insert my card, it wants to know my ZIP code. And then it wants to know more.
“Do you want a car wash?”
Are you kidding? It’s pouring down rain. I punch no.
“Do you want a receipt?”
Yeah, just what I need. Another little scrap of paper that gets tucked into my wallet and forgotten until my wallet gets so fat, it won’t fit in my pocket. I punch no again.
“Do you want to save four cents per gallon?”
Wait!?! What?
Apparently, this gas pump must remember me and wants to give me a discount. Cool. This time, I punch yes.
It asks me another couple of questions before it finally lets me pick the grade of gas I want. I’ve made more keystrokes trying to buy gas that I have writing this column.
Once the gas starts pumping, commercials start running on the touchscreen. Commercials telling me about all the delicious yummy snacks inside. They almost had me at the two-for-one Snickers bars, but then I remembered Chelsea the trainer would break my arms if I ate two Snickers bars.
The whole process of pumping gas takes longer at my new station, and I really am annoyed at the commercials.
But, woo hoo, I saved 45 cents.
