It's hard to believe soaring gas prices wouldn't be the worst part of stopping at a gas station. If I'm paying over $60 to fill my tank, I shouldn't have to worry about food poisoning or having my credit card details stolen straight from the pump. The only way it could get worse is if I had to duck a sketchy cash payout from a Republican Senate candidate .
๐ The Core Development
We asked our readers last week about their worst experience at a gas station. Roughly half of the stories in the comments section were about incompetent employees and reckless station owners. From a gunfight to tainted apples, we read through it all and had zero clue what would shock us next. There were a few anecdotes with a silver lining, but many of you were paying for more than gas at the end of your tales. Without further ado, here are the gas station visits that absolutely no one wants to repeat:
When out traveling for my sales job, I ate a gas station apple. I was in a hurry and wanted a "healthy" snack. What could possibly go wrong with an apple?
๐ Background & Sector Context
Of course, this was one of those setups where the apples were just sitting out in a basket on the counter where anybody could walk by and touch them, feel around for the best one and leave behind whatever vile pestilence was on their filthy hands.
Of course, being in a hurry, I didn't wash the apple and just downed it while driving to my next appointment. It even tasted pretty good.
๐ Industry & Real-World Impact
Fast forward about 2 hours and things turned ugly in a hurry. Norovirus, or something similar, shows up like a freight train. Ill spare you the details, but my next trip to a gas station wasn't nearly as fun.
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๐ฎ Strategic Outlook & What Lies Ahead
Riding my motorcycle on a tiny 2-lane heading home after work. The weather was warm, and I had on an open-face helmet. See fresh roadkill up ahead with a couple of birds feasting. I pull to the other side of the lane, the birds see me coming and start to take off... not quickly enough. I hit one of the birds with the clutch-side mirror, and the bird explodes into feathers and gore, and splashes all over my face and chest. I keep the bike upright and pull into a BP station about a half mile up the road.
I walk in โ jacket, gloves, and helmet still on โ covered in bird guts. The guy behind the counter sees me and starts screaming at me and retching. Uh oh... I can smell the bird well now that I'm not going 50mph, and between that and the now-vomiting cashier, I lose it. Door opens, guy walks in, sees this horror show, and he loses his lunch.
