[L]ast month, when I pulled up to my usual filling station, did my usual painful exercise to get myself out of the car, and only then discovered that the card reader was inoperative. None of my cards would save me in this case. Rather than go through a second round of contortions, I pulled the Walking Appliance out of the back seat, wheeled myself into the store, and peeled off three twenties. This of course necessitated a second trip into the store to retrieve $17 or so in change, but it demonstrated pretty clearly who rules.
This week, I pulled up to a different station, closer to home and dealing in E0. (You want ethanol, you go to the beer display.) I did my usual painful exercise to get myself out of the car, and only then discovered that the card reader was inoperative. The Walking Appliance would not get me up the very steep path to the retail store. With a little help from passersby, I managed to get into the store proper and swipe $60 on the old Mastercard. Forty-five dollars later, another neighbor pointed out that at the far end of the building was an actual ramp, which up to that point I hadn’t noticed, and while I’ve lived around here for a decade and a half, I didn’t need a ramp for most of that time, which explains why I hadn’t noticed it.
Later this week, I assume the store will change that sixty-dollar debit to a forty-five-dollar debit.