Gas Station Abduction and Release

I worked night shift at a gas station for six years, and despite it being in “that part of town,” I was never robbed. That said, I was held at gunpoint, once.

There was this regular—a forty-something year old woman—who came in at about 3 AM every night and bought a carton’s worth of cigarettes (the night shift couldn’t get into the storage room where those were kept, because we were clearly shifty, shifty people.) and occasionally stayed to talk politics. My response to other people talking politics has always been to nod politely and grunt in a way that conveys absolutely nothing resembling opinion.

One night, she missed her 3 AM mark. I didn’t think anything of it, because despite popular belief, there’s plenty of work for a night shift grunt to do at a gas station. I was mopping when a masked figure ran in and leveled a gun at me.

The person, clearly female, was screaming at me to come with her, and I was, in the calmest voice I could manage, saying that I’d be more than happy to empty whatever was in the register for her.

At which point, she says she doesn’t want any goddamn money, that I need to come with her right now.

Outside, away from the cameras and the panic button that I very sorely missed, she takes off her mask and shows herself as my 3 AM regular. I was such a good listener, she said, that she wanted to reward me, and that in order to whisk me away to her chamber of deviancy, she needed to kidnap me… otherwise I wouldn’t have an excuse to go with her. Right. Goddamn sack of crazy.

The gun turned out to be a prop, so I gave her a few of my pointier thoughts, and then went back inside to finish mopping. If she’d have asked me out, maybe I’d have gone with her to get coffee or something. Ladies, please note: abducting your crush, even with a fake gun, is a terrible idea.

I’m a changed man, though. Now whenever anyone talks politics at me, I become the loudest jerk you’ve ever met.