75 Cents

I talk about my family a lot, number one because I love them, at times I hate them, and mostly because they are all so fucking crazy, you can’t help but laugh.

My father, whom I adore as if he was my own flesh and blood, is extremely smart, well intentioned, passionate, handsome, life saving, family providing, erratic, over reactive, hyper active, attention deficient having, genius.

This is a story about my father,75 cents, a gas station, and an air pump.

My phone in the office rings, I answer to find an irate individual shouting on the other end of phone…

My father had gone to the gas station that morning to fill his slow leaking tire with air. He pulled up to gas station and parked the car at the air pump. He took the stopper off the tire, he put 75cents into the machine, then, he tried pumping the tire with the air. Only problem? No air came out of the machine. My father checked the machine, nothing was working. It seemed the machine was broken.

Like anyone else in the world would do, my father went over to the attendant and explained the situation. “Hey, excuse me, but I just put 75cents into your air pump, and nothing happened?”

The gas attendant, barley speaking English, told my father to wait a few seconds, he would be right with him….

A few seconds, which in reality was a solid ten minuets, just enough time to push the ‘patience envelope’ with my father, things became uncomfortable.

After serving every other customer, the attendant followed my semi-upset borderline angry father, to the machine. The gas attendant looked at the pump and put his own 75cents into the machine…still nothing. “It broke” said the attendant. “Yes, I know that” said my father. “What are you going to do about it?” “Nothing” said the attendant.

“Well, you owe me 75 cents!!” said my father, noticeably angry.

“No, machine broke” argued attendant.

“I know it’s broken, but it’s YOUR machine, there was no sign saying it’s broken!! You owe me MY 75 cents!!!”

“No, machine broke, no 75 cents, for you. I gave 75 cents too.”

“That doesn’t matter”, interrupted my now seriously pissed off father. “You can and you will get your money back, I want my 75 cents, and, I want it now!!!!!!” screamed my father.

(That is when my father noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a couple whom had been there all along, only when they first arrived at the gas station they had their Mercedes windows down, they were casual and relaxed, dressed in weekend get away clothes, after being witness to “Colonna Rant’, they were now in the car with the windows rolled up, doors locked, hands folded, looking straight ahead.)

“You a crazy, you a crazy man…” said the attendant as he walked away..

My father gets in his car, with his half flat tire and thats when he called me to tell me what had just happened.

The man was livid beyond help, I know that tone of voice, all too well. When he is at that point, there is nothing you can say or do, but shut up and listen to him.

(Here are the series of revenge ideas my father contemplated)

“You know what I am going to do; I am going to call the cops… I was robbed. I am calling the cops and saying I was just robbed…they robbed me of my 75cents, this is f**king bullsh*t!!!” He hangs up.

5 seconds later my phone rings again.

“No, you know what I am going to do, I am going to make a huge poster…I will make a big sign, and I am gong to stand in front of that gas station with a bull horn and my sign that says THIS GAS STATION RIPS PEOPLE OFF!” Hangs up again.

Another 5 seconds later phone rings again.

“No, I am going to take a crow bar, and smash the f**king thing, break it open, and just take MY 75CENTS!!” He hangs up again.

My father was soooo enraged, he circled back to the gas station to confront the attendant again. Fortunately, he turned back around after convincing himself that MAYBE, he was over reacting a little…

By the time my father arrived at our office, I had informed the other employees what has occurred and to avoid one Mr. Colonna, at all costs.

After hearing the story, most people in our office said the same thing, “Jeez; I’ll give him the 75 cents.”

It was not the 75 cents, my father argues, it was the point.

His argument for the day was.. “Would you let someone get away with it if it was 2 dollars?” There was no way he was letting this go. My father continue to argue, if he was in shoprite, and put 75cents in a soda machine, and didn’t get the soda, the manager of shoprite would refund his money, so therefore, the same rules, MUST apply in this gas station?

Right?

He stewed and stewed, he plotted he planned, he paced, and circled the office.

Finally. He had The Perfect Plan…and he was going to execute as soon as possible.

The very next day, my father went back to the very same gas station. This time he pulled up to the gas pump. He didn’t get the same attendant, but that didn’t matter to him in the least. Instead of yelling, or causing yet another scene, he calmly asked for 5 dollars of gas. While he waited to be filled up, his plan went into motion.

When the attendant came to collect money for the gas, my father handed him $4.25, with a note that said.

“YOUR OTHER 75 CENTS IS IN THE AIR MACHINE.”

So, if you ever need air in your tires, do not go to this gas station: