Yeah, I was one of THOSE:

A Gas Station Attendant!

You’d have to Google or go to Wikipedia to even begin to understand what A Gas Station Attendant even

W A S

I worked my way through the last year of College and saved enough to begin my first year of Seminary.

It was waaaaaaaaaaay back in 1976

and I didn’t learn a thing about tires, oil changes, alternators, headlights, radiators or cars in general, but I did learn a lot about People and Service.

I was the guy that dropped everything he was doing to meet you at your barely rolled down window before the Service Station bell rang twice as you pulled up to the gas pump.

I would politely ask what type of gas you’d like, how much and if you would be so kind to allow me to check your oil, your tire pressure and clean your windshield.

I’d usually be treated just a little above whale dung–especially when it was in the dead of Winter.

…I learned a lot about People and a whole lot more about Service. . . .

The worse People would treat me was usually when I provided the most Service.

It really set me up for a life of service.

Givers are not Takers but Takers are!

I was making a whopping $75 a week and the best lesson I learned THEN

is the one I Teach, NOW:

NO ONE WILL EVER BE ABLE TO PAY YOU FOR WHAT YOU DO, BUT HOPEFULLY THEY’LL PAY YOU ENOUGH SO YOU CAN DO IT!

Anyone in any Service area, will never be paid for the SERVICE provided–EVER. . .

but most likely you’ll be compensated JUST ENOUGH to be able to continue to provide YOUR SERVICE.

I remember shoveling out the drive way of the service station before it was open and a grandmother and her two granddaughters pulled in with their radiator steaming. The hose had a hole; sprung a leak.

I poured hot chocolate from my thermos for the girls and grandma while I quickly replaced her hose and when she said she didn’t have any money to pay for the repair, I told her not to worry about it, paid for it out of my own pocket and wished them a good day with the advice to KEEP WARM and be safe.

It was near the end of my shift when I saw grandma’s car come into the lot, but this time grandpa was driving and he barely put the car in Park before he jumped out and started yelling me about how I had taken advantage of his wife, and put her and his two granddaughters at great risk for installing UN-named brand parts.

He didn’t want to hear that I never charged her and gave his granddaughters my hot chocolate. . . .

I learned a lot about People and a whole lot more about Service.

It wasn’t the next day or the next. . .

I was shoveling out the lot before the Station opened again, and I noticed “THE CAR” coming into the lot.

Grandma was driving.

She got out of the car with a brand new thermos filled with her HOME MADE Hot Chocolate and a warm ham and cheese sandwich and even warmer chocolate chip cookies.

“You’re a nice boy who deserves nice things.”

It was one of the nicest THANK YOU, I’M SORRY I’ve ever experienced.

I learned a lot about People and a whole lot more about Service.

Wouldn’t it be great if we still had Service Stations?

No. . .

Not the kind that serves gas, checks oil, tire pressure, radiator levels or washes windshields. . .

Not the kind that trades radiator hoses for warm sandwiches, cookies and homemade hot chocolate. . .

Not the kind that swaps merchandise for money. . .

. . .the kind that doesn’t count a cost before it delivers. . .
. . .the kind that doesn’t pay you adequately for what you deserve only what you can’t help doing anyway. . .
. . .the kind that the World needs and seldom gets enough. . .
. . .the kind that’ll get your treated a half-inch above whale dung. . .
. . .the kind that’ll make you feel better than any paycheck or hefty bank account. . .

. . .the kind that you’ll learn about People and a whole lot more about Service. . .
. . .the kind that you’ll Teach, Pass on as you first learned it, most likely the hard way. . .

DING
DING

Excuse me, time to go provide some

SERVICE!

Some call it a Coincidence.

Some call it Happenstance.

Some call it Spooky.

Some call it on Purpose.

Some call it Compassionate Kindness.

Some call it an Accident.

Some call it Grace.

Some call it a Hospice Moment.

It was the day of his funeral.

I only met him once. The second time I went to visit him on a pure whim, (I had talked to his daughter earlier in the day and we decided I would come the next day) he had died just about ten minutes before I arrived.

The relationship here, was mostly with the family that I spent time providing supportive presence and active listening/validation of feelings/comments; facilitating life/faith/family review. There were lots of stories, ‘once-upon-a-time’s,’ and ‘remember-when’s.’

He was born in 1925 and lived life in all capital letters; lied to get into the Navy to fight in WWII and never minded doing for another what needed to be done even before they knew it needed done.

All stories I had gladly heard from family members. All to help me gather information as we planned a memorial service to, Remember, Honor and Celebrate his life.

It was the day of his funeral.

On my way to his funeral, some 45 miles a way, I noticed that I had about 75 miles to go before I ran out of gas.

The Dashboard FLASHED it on/off at me.

No problem, I thought, I’ll be arriving early to the service, I’ll just fill up at the exit where the funeral home was located. Everything was fine. I got off the exit. There was a gas station about a mile and a half from the Funeral Home and then I remembered….

…oh my, my, my MY WALLET was, well, it wasn’t with me. I left it at home in the glove box.

No time. I will just call Erin, my wife, tell her what a dumb jerk she married and beg her to meet me half way with a credit card so I can get gas.

I called her with the plan as I pulled in to the Funeral Home parking lot…and she agreed, NOT that I was a dumb jerk, but to meet me after the funeral.

I literally just got out of the car, heard it BEEPED locked and was walking toward the Entrance when the son-in-law, daughter and wife of the patient pulled into the lot. I greeted the Funeral Director and asked if it was alright to with him travel to the Cemetery and back, to which he agreed.

About this time, the son-in-law opened the door the his wife and mother-in-law and came over directly to me to shake my hand and greet me. Without even a half breath later, he asked, “Would it be okay if I borrowed your car to go the grocery store on the corner?”

“Absolutely,” I said and handed him the keys I had yet to pocket.

I went into the funeral home, met with family and talked with some friends who were going to speak at the service and about five minutes before the service, the son-in-law came back and asked me, “Do you keep track of your mileage?”

I thought he was going to tell me that I had about 24 miles to go before running out of gas.

Before I could say anything, he handed me the receipt he had gotten from filling up my tank.

A Coincidence? A Happenstance? Spooky? On Purpose? Compassionate Kindness? An Accident? Grace? A Pure Hospice Moment.

People often ask me, “After twenty years, how can you still do this work that’s surrounding with all this dying and death?”

Psssssst: It’s because of WHAT I GET!

Often…so very, very often my tank gets filled up from a Gas Station which accepts no credit card and disposes no petro.

Who would think that one who attempts to provide multiple acts of kindness and compassion would ever become a Victim of one?