mission #5: gas station salvation.

Double Mission Week! Double Mission Week!

As you may or may not know, last week I fell off the bandwagon and am making up for it with double mission mojo this week.

Mission #5 taught me two very important things:

1. I would make a horrible spy.

2. Gas station attendants inherently distrust me.

Let me explain…

I love my car. Her name is Frankie and she is a saucy little (albeit slightly beat up) red siren on wheels. She’s a travelling memento of my coming of age. I bought her my second year of university, paid for her out of my own pocket and for the past eight years she has brought me to and from every twisting avenue of my rapidly changing life. We trucked through university and a two year pizza delivering gig together, from nannying to dog shows, from apartment to apartment and then city to city. She packed me to and from trade shows while I worked with my mother’s business and then, when I realized to continue loving my mother I had to stop working with her sixty hours a week, little car battened down the hatches and carried refrigerator equipment cross town on my short lived courier gig. Three years ago, she took me to my first hosting shift at a little restaurant in Gastown and today she drives me to my executive position at that same venue. She’s covered in cigarette burns and spilled coffee and spare shoes. I’ve blown all the speakers, dented the sides, cracked the windshield and popped the tires. Eight years and she’s taken it like a bloody trooper.

I love my car.

But I HATE buying gas.

When I bought my car, a fill up was $15. Now that amount will MAYBE buy me four days. It’s a necessary evil for all those on four wheels. So as an ode to the little red car, who has started making those tell-tale signs that her end is near, I thought i’d send a touch of good mojo out to all those other people in motion.

I bought three $10 Esso gift cards. After 15 minutes of convincing the attendant that I wasn’t trying to make a “political statement” or highlight a flaw in their business, but merely trying to do something nice for a stranger, I was given permission to tape the gift cards on three empty pumps with a note that read:

Gas prices keep rising…that sucks. Here’s $10 towards your fill up… that doesn’t suck. Have a GREAT night! – The Optimist.

(Not my most eloquent but you get the point.)

So today three strangers got to partake in a little free gas or other important gas station things like coffee and swedish berries.

Total Cost: $30.

Scene of the Crime: Esso on Marine Drive.

Spontaneous Stranger Smiles Gained: Three. Plus one slightly befuddled but eventually won over gas station employee.

Bonus Points:  I had popped back into the store to grab a juice before dashing off into the night and low and behold, the first person to happen upon my note came waltzing in. Now knowing that I have, quite possibly, the world’s worst poker face and in an effort to remain anonymous, I attempted a hop/skip backwards and careened face first into the plexiglass cooler door. It’s a good thing espionage is not on my list of career goals, because i’d make a piss poor spy.

Until next week.

Cheers – The Optimist

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