The needle was inching to the empty mark, so I roared off the highway and zoomed up to the nearest pump.
The nasty problem you encounter when you're miles outside of the Los Angeles area?
Gas prices are a tad higher 'cause they know they've got you by the short & curlies.
The alternative?
Go bust in the middle of the desert and let the buzzards get 'ya!
So, in spite of the fact the price per gallon was just a few cents higher than black gold in WeHo, I strode up to the pump, swiped my ATM card, and was ready to do the damage to my checking account.
Whoa nellie!
What did the dialogue box just blurt out as I stood in the sweltering afternoon sun?
Better grab my specs, pronto, and scrutinize that fine print!
Holy Moly!
Arco informed me - dryly, matter-of-fact - that to use the ATM (debit or credit) they were going to ding me a whopping 59 cent surcharge for the use of my plastic at their smelly old gas pump.
No, that's not okey-dokey.
I strode inside, slapped ten bucks on the counter, and decided to fill 'er up at the next station.
Sorry, Arco, I don't support greed!
Oh, and have a nice day, eh?
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