History Old "pump Jockey" story thread

A lot of us spent our time working in Full Service gas stations, back when a cutomers expected, washed windows, tires checked, oil and water checked, then a free drinking glass,along with a fist full of trading stamps.--and that was just what went on in the drive.
The inside bay work was just as busy.

I know there are a lot of good ole "pump jockey" storys out there. If we don't tell em, time will forget us.

 

I was pumping gas at a texaco station in the 70s. This vietnamese woman would come in and say fill it up for three dollars. If you put three dollars in she would complain that it wasnt full. if you fillled it up she complained that it cost more than 3 dollars. One time the bosses son a 7th grader waited on her. When she complained he went off and cussed her out real good and proper.She wrote a letter to texaco about the terrible man who threatened her. A rep fron teaxaco came by and when we showed him that 4 foot tall 7th grader said thats the terrible man. He just laughed it off. She never came back Good riddiance.

 

OK, I'll bite...a little on customer recognition; some many years ago while being a 'jock' a young man gave me a gift I'll never forget. Many of our regular customers would tip our service; being from the cold 'snowbelt' regions of Northern Ohio it helped worm up the day...and pay a little bills. Anyway; it was an extra cold christmas season and times were a bit tough; not unlike todays economy, and tips were few and far between. Sometime around early evening on Christmas eve and the streets were pretty bare, this young single young lady pulled in with her son and asked for $5 worth...not much gas (pretty sure she didn't have much money) as I finished; her little son reached up to me with a handmade envelope and said "Merry Christmas" and they drove off. As I opened it ...well it was something; a drawing of Santa in crayon that said "to my 'gassman' Mary Crismas"......the name stuck.

 

Just out of high school worked for real small local Olds dealership $1.10 an hour. Every Friday a guy in an old Jeep would pull up , "Fill her up, check the oil & don't forget my stamps".

I'd open the hood, I had no idea the dip stick was in the filler tube. I'd just fumble around a bit and tell him yup everything looks good, did that all summer. Best job was cleaning windshields for the lady's.

Told the boss that fall, I was going to leave ( was going to give 2 weeks notice) to go to the shoefactory for $1.25 per hour. The owner of the dealership came in and told to get out now and don't forget that Oldsmobile uniform was his. So I took it off and walked out in my undies and shoes.

 

Gasman57,
That story absolutely ROCKS!!!

 

No special memories, but back in 1964, I worked at a local Rotary station for about 6-months or so during my Senior year. I recall the Owner / Operator lived at the station, which had attached living quarters (wonder how my wife would like to work at a gas station today ??). I also recall trying to make sure to get to all the many grease points on the various makes of cars and remember where the hidden gas fills were on some of them, too.

I also remember filling up the bulk oil jars with oil outta a large tank. Can't recall exactly, but I believe the bulk oil was around 25¢ or 35¢ a quart. "Hey, Kid, gimmee a dollar's worth of Regular" was not uncommon back then, either.

I don't recall (C.R.S. setting in!) how much I was paid at the station, but as I recall it was around $1.25/hor. When I got my first full-time job after high school, I received $2.10/hour - $64.00/ week take home and felt like I was the richest guy in the world.........

 

The comment about cleaning windshields brought back memories. Skirts were really short in the early '60's, and women hiked them up more to drive. When one of the local honey's would come in for gas, it became a mob scene with all the employees and many of the filling station loafers helping out. Some of the views were truly spectacular; the old man that owned the station would just stand in the door and laugh. That was before PC days, and the women loved the attention. Several were Saturday morning regulars....slide

 

I worked at a "country store"/service station in SC from ~1971-74. We did full service gas, oil changes, sold and mounted tires, and stocked a few tune-up parts.

I remember an older guy drove up one day in a 1960 Chevy with a car load of people (probably relatives) he had brought to do their grocery shopping. He told me to fill it up with high test since the others were paying for the gas. Then he chuckled and said "You know, she'll run pretty good on kerosene. I put 10 gallons in one day and filled it up the rest of the way with regular, and it ran just fine. Smoked a little bit, but it ran just fine. But as long as I ain't paying for it, fill it up with high test!"

I remember another lady that was a regular customer that drove a 60's Chevy II Nova with three on the tree. She evidently thought first gear was a waste of time because she ALWAYS started that thing off in 2nd gear. I wonder how long her clutches lasted?

 

i worked in an auto parts store/gas station in the 70's. in 1978 when we had the gas shortage cars would line up for several blocks when we had gas. it was my job to figure out how many more cars we could get to before closing time, so i made up a big sign with hooks saying "last car in line" and would ask the driver if i could hang it on his rear bumper. once in awhile i'd get someone tell me that i was "not putting that sign on their car" so i'd just say ok i'll hang it on the car in front of you! boy did that piss them off. still funny everytime i think about it. mike

 

I remember in the late 70's at my Dad's station I was about 13 and a regular customer came in for a fill-up, I started filling it up washed the windows etc, came back around and saw the pump dollars going higher than usual, looked around and gas was running down the street. She had run through a ditch somewhere and busted the tank on a big Oldsmobile. I stopped the pump on $14.92. Normal was about $11.00-12.00 she was mad as all get out.

 

Worked at a station in the 60's. Christmas time we hired an old drunk Itallian as Santa. He kept going in the back room ( we thought to warm up). One kid was crying " Santa is dead". Went out and he had passed out in a snow bank out front . LOL

 

My first Station job in High School was being the flunky.
I did tires and wash jobs, and sevice calls in the truck for flat tires and dead batterys. On a snowny day I was sent to put a spare on a car that was left on a side street. The keys had been dropped of at the station, and I was to go put on the spare and bring the flat back for repair. Well when I found the car it was a GOLD METAL FLAKE 60 T-bird with playboy bunnie logos on the doors.
Inside there was a bar, a TV and a telephone. I quickly put on the spare, and felt it was my professional duty to test drive the car to make sure the car was safe for the customer to drive. (sounded god to me)

Man I fired that t-bird up, and off I went to show off for all my buddies. After I did a lap around the circuit, I felt the car was safe for the customer. So back to the station I went with the flat to repair--opps somebody had spotted me "test driving", and blew the whistle.---End of that job!

 

Came in at 9AM, pumped gas for 12 hours, closed station at 9PM, ran the cash to the bank, then....

ran out of gas two miles down the road.

Rich

 

First, that is an exceptionally cool story.

Second, it could not have been that long ago since I remember a day when $5 would fill the tank on an average-sized car.

 

It was prolly about 1964 and I worked for a friend who ran a station.

We had his race car at a show in York, Pa. and on the way home from the show on Sunday afternoon we pulled into a closed gas station to check the tie downs on the car.
While we were there a young couple pulled into the station. I went to the pumps and he said "fill it up" so I went around to the back of the car and put the nozzle in and went about cleaning the windshield and checking the oil. I was laughing so hard I could barely contain myself. I replaced the gas hose on the pump and walked to his door and told him it was $20 even. He handed me a $20, said thanks and rolled up his window. He had a puzzled look on his face because I was really laughing by that time. I gave him his money back and told him I didn't pump any gas, that we were just tending to the car on the trailer and I was having a little fun at his expense.

I guess he didn't think it was as funny as I did, as he was embarrassed at being the brunt of a cruel hoax in front of his honey, but he did say thanks for giving his money back.

 

OK, in 1964 wasn't $20 about 50 gallons of gas???

 

Maybe so, but that was a long time ago.
I didn't pump any gas and he did hand me a 20.

I just wanted to do the windshield and check out his honey's legs.

 

I don't have any really good ones because I worked at a Amoco gas station in the 80's... We had one island for full-serve and it was .05 a gallon more... I worked there 18 months (part time) for the minumim wage of $4.35 and only pumped gas into 2 cars.

We still had service bays, and a mechanic that worked until 5. I worked from 5 pm - 11 pm. and I learned to mount, balance and patch tires... and I would charge them for that, but I would also do just about anything else I knew how to do. If they wanted me to replace their battery, or a belt, or whatever just to keep 'em going... I would ring up the parts, and I would install it, but I made it clear that I was not installing it as an employee and I wouldn't be charging them for labor. I took a few tips but I refused a lot more because I knew they didn't have the money. the owners knew I did it, and were OK with it... Nowadays, I you'd be fired for even thinking about it.

 

I worked at an Amoco station way back when. We had one gal that used to come in every Sunday in her Jag like clockwork. She was about 40, but had the legs of a 19 year old and loved to show them off when you washed her windshield. The more you gawked, the more she'd tip. One day, while doing my duty to keep her happy and gawk as much as humanly possible, I heard the driveway bell ding and looked up for a couple of seconds to see who pulled in. When I looked back, her skirt was up around her waist and she seemed to have 'forgotten' to wear anything else underneath. I think I ran the squeegee dry for about five minutes with my maw hanging open. Finally, I gathered myself, finished the windshield, took the nozzle out of the tank and went up to her window to tell her the total. She paid the gas price, then handed me a $20 with her phone number on it. I blushed and squirmed for a while, then accidentally spent that $20 on my own gas the next day. I never got the chance to call. Never saw her again, either. She just stopped coming in.

 

Being the youngest guy at a station made you the target for a lot of jokes and scams.
We had an old con who was working at the station that used to tell me how hard he was trying to get his life together. I would offer him all of my 17 yr old wisdom, and he would listen intently

He came in the station late one Friday night with a chick riding shot gun. When I went out to the pumps he told me how he knew I was right, and he neede to settle down and straighten up. He went on to tell me that his honey was just the Women he needed, but he was short on Gas money to get to Tennessse to get married by the J.P.---could I spare a $20 (about 1/2 weeks pay).

Being the recognised source of his wise council, I felt glad to help my pal out.

HE WENT STRAIGHT ACROSS THE STREET TO THE LIQUOR STORE---he honked and waved as he and the honey went down the street laughing...

That was the end of my counseling carrer.

 

I dont have anything to contribute but we still live in the old ways here as we still have what i beleive is Iowas last full service gas station. Building was built in the teens i do beleive.

 

i didn't work in a gas station in high school , i worked at the local airport gassing airplanes and whatever needed done.

one beautiful Saturday afternoon a guy lands and comes in for fuel in a Cessna 172. i fueled it up , checked the oil and while cleaning the windshield i noticed something in the rear seat all wrapped up mummy style. after i asked he said it was his mother-in-law..she had died somewhere in the Dakotas and he was bringing her back home (somewhere down south , i can't remember ) for the funeral

 

<style></style>I worked at a Holiday station back in the late 70's. Started out pumping gas, finally got promoted to run the cash register, count the money, and lock up the store at the end of the night. It was me at about 16 or 17 old and 2 other HS kids that pumped gas alone for the evening shift. Talk about a bad move. We use to get the BB guns the store sold and have wars shooting each other. One night I shot at one of the other guys leg as he came in the door. I missed and hit the glass door. The entire thing shattered instantly. We called the cops and told them a car drove by outside and then the door mysteriously shattered. We would do all kinds of crazy stuff. My senior year of HS I went to work for a truck stop. I worked the evening shift alone. When a truck would come in for fuel I would stick a hose in each tank and go back inside. There was a couch and TV I could sit and watch and I also got the use the service bay to work on my car so it was a pretty great job but kind of brutal in the Minnesota winter. The drivers would go to the diner next door and tell me to move the truck and park it when it was full. I had fun learning how to drive those things. I carried the money around in a huge roll in my pocket. I mean thousands of dollars worth at a time. Sure could not do that now days.

 

You guys must have not worked at the right station or maybe not had the same thing on you mind as we did in the fifties.Saw plenty of nice legs,especially in summertime.they had to keep that skirt up high to keep cool' Many had nothing underneath.Many also wanted to trade "it" for some gas...If "it" looked ok we would pull her car on the grease rack.climb in and have buddy raise it up in the air...complete privacy...Everybody Happy.....

 

I worked at a Chevron station in town during high school. I had a guy bring his 59 Corvair in for a starter replacement. He left it overnight. I was working the closing shift, so I told the boss I'd pull the starter so he could get the new one in first thing.

I ran the car up in the air, got the starter out in good time, then I washed my hands, changed out of the white station pants and shirt. Took the pants and stuffed them full of old shop rags and fender covers, let the Corvair down almost all the way, and stuck those stuff shop pants sticking out of the back with my black work shoes in the end. The visual effect was, of course - that the hoist had collapsed on me while I was working on the car. With that stage sent I went home. Didn't really think about it the next day in school, but when I got to work at the station that afternoon, the boss was pretty hot - he'd called an ambulance right away and then went to fire up the compressor....he was able to call of the aid guys before they got too far. Nobody was very happy with me - but I didn't lose my job...the boss was still telling that story long after I left.

dj

 

Small story. We'd stick the neighbor kid's Go-Kart in the trunk of my car, and bring it to work. Put trash cans in all the driveways with "outta gas" signs. Flooded the place with water and went at it

Long story-I worked graveyard (same station) and would sand my 65 Vette for eventual colored primer (yellow). One day I had to work in the afternoon with the Boss. Well, it's not busy and I start sanding. My boss with his thick N.Y. accent asks, what tha fock ya doin John? I explain, he's bored too, and helps sanding. A few more days of this, and I come to work with a stack of paper to mask, a gun, tinted primer and fittings to tap into the station's air source. Back go the "outta gas" signs and I'm spraying the Vette in one of the bays. Next day, the Boss asks, wha tha fock went on here last night John(everything's yellow oversprayed)? I tell him, I obviously can't lie, and said I sprayed the fockin cah Jim. He says, is that the one I helped prepare? I said yeah. He said, tha fockin thing looks pretty fockin good John. I smile everytime I drive past that place 30+ yrs later

 

wbrw32's story reminded me of when I worked at a Texico station, just off the interstate, so most of the traffic was highway traffic.

One eveing I remember most was a nice young thing on her way back to Chicago, driving a TR6. She stopped in for gas of course, and said she was somewhat low on money, but she just "Had" to get on to Chicago.

Well, the ole barter system was alive and well back in those days, for the price of a fill up on her TR6, I ended up getting a B/J.

HMMMM... who got the better deal that night?

With those old gas pumps, you could get into them and reset the total gallons pumped. Firday nights, I used to fill the ole jalopy, and then reset the pump. We used to always have to "Stick" the fuel tanks before each shift, so any shortage would always just get chalked up to evaporation or condensation.


Another that kind of stands out, was a guy came in one night, and he had broken the adjuster arm on his generator for tightening the fan belt. Again, this was a guy from out of town and just had to get to where ever it was he was going. But at that time of the night everything was closed. So I ended up making him a arm out of a old metal chest. I had cut it several inches wide, then bent it over three or four times to give it strength. Then drilled some holes at each end to be able to mount it and somewhat tighten his fan belt, It wasn't the greatest of fabrication, but that's all I had to work with that night.

For about 2 1/2 hours of work, all I got was a fiver and a thanks. Ass hole, If I knew that's all I was going to get, I wouldn't have done it.

But again, like wbrw32 said, it sure was a good place to meet the gals late at night


HellRaiser

 

I was hoping somene else would tell that story

 

OUCH. I hope you weren't gonna say the dude gave a BJ too

 

Me and a lesbo have this thing in common, neither one of us likes a dick