Apr 16 2008
Just Another Day in Hotfessional-land.
So, y’all? Someone needs to just come shoot me.
Today, I got to go deliver some stuff to employees who used to be my staff, but y’know, because of the changes around here, aren’t anymore.
I sat at a diner with two of them this morning, and drank about 17 cups of coffee. It went fine. I really liked these guys.
Then I drove out to my old stomping grounds (where I moved FROM 2 years ago to take my now-defunct job) to see two more. When I got in the car, after a few too many last minute phone calls, I was running about 20 minutes late. (So much for my plans to go through McDonald’s or Wendy’s for lunch.) At 1 minute past our appointment time, I pulled into the parking lot and saw the guy I was meeting walking away from the front door. I pulled together all of the paperwork, and yelled across the parking lot to him.
I told him I’d pick up the tab if he wanted to order something, because I was famished. We both had a Coke and Potstickers (Chinese steamed dumplings). I know. They don’t go together. I needed sugar and sustenance, but I also had a long-ass drive home. I didn’t want to get too full or have to pee (if I’d have had the tea that I wanted to go with the Potstickers).
This guy was the one I laid off twice. He’s itching to find a way to make this a BIG DEAL. And we gave him the appropriate fodder. One of the kazillion documents in this packet of information was wrong. About 31 days worth of pay wrong. I had checked and double-checked and freakin’ quadruple checked….and yet, there it was, in black and white. W-R-O-N-G.
So, while he ate (and I tried not to drool over my own lunch) - I was trying to get in touch with the Human Resources rep. I called two ex-bosses to get her number. I left her a voicemail and paged her. I called her second-in-command.
Finally, my phone rang, and I explained the situation (y’know, it’s kinda hard to rat out the HR department when you’re sitting in front of the one guy who will be an ass about the entire situation….because, FODDER!). Miss HR told me what needed to be done and so I did it.
The next appointment’s documents were incorrect, also, but only screwed up by a week. I explained the situation, and figured I was safe. For now.
I sat in the parking lot and tried to call my ex-boss (from when these people reported to me) so I could give him the news. Left him a voicemail and hit the road.
About the time I hit the scariest fuckin’ merge from one highway to another in the entire state (Marie Millard? Confirm this. I-696 Westbound onto I-275 Southbound) - something beeped. AND my phone rang. I ignored the phone, and looked at my dashboard. GAS. Hello!!! Mr. Hot had driven back from W-by-gawd-V the day before, and I turned around for a 150 mile drive without checking the gas? Fuck-a-duck. And the horse he rode in on.
I knew I was only about 7 miles from the next interchange - a much calmer interchange - so I drove on. This car is supposed to get 27 mile/gallon on the highway. The gauge wasn’t even in the red yet!
la-dee-da. Ignorance is indeed, bliss.
As I was getting off the first exit ramp that had one of those nifty (yes, I say nifty, shush) “Gas 0.1 miles” signs, my phone rang again. I had my headset on (ONLY handsfree phone calls in the car for me, and only on country roads, so shush again!) so I answered. “Hotfessional!”, says I.
It was Mr. ex-Boss. I explained the situation, just as I was getting to the gas station. Which looked, um, non-functional. WTF? There’s construction cones (Michigan’s state tree) blocking each driveway. “Fuck.”, I say. “What?”, say x-b. “Gas station closed. “, says me.
I turn around and head back towards the highway. The west-bound entrance ramp I need is, um, torn to shreds.
I pulled into a parking lot to finish my conversation (responsible! motorist!), but I’m afraid to turn the car off, because, y’know, as a child of the seventies and the gas crisis, I’m sure it won’t start again. And I’ll be trapped in the FedEx parking lot at the Sheldon Road exit off of M-14. Forever. They can just overnight my body home.
After we hang up, I head to the OTHER on-ramp for westbound M-14. I figured I’m still good (27 mpg y’all!) - I’ll just catch gas at the next exit.
Yay! The Beck Road exit has gas (0.2 miles!). I pull in, full of hope. Gas!
(Do you hear the gods laughing hysterically?)
There are fluttery pieces of paper attached to the pumps. “Power Otage. Back 1 hr.” (No, that’s not a typo, that’s what the fucking sign said.)
Y’all? The little hand thingie? On the gas gauge? Is now in.the.red.zone. I call Mr. Hot as I get BACK ON the highway.
I can’t even bear to type what that conversation was like. Just assume that at some point, “Well, good luck with that!” was uttered by someone. (Hint. The someone? Not me.)
The next exit has no “Gas (0.XXX) miles.” And it looks like farmland. My car doesn’t run on horse shit. Damn.
Now, I’m using the semi in front of me as a drafting partner. I have my front end pretty much up his butt to cut down wind resistance. I learned something from years of being trapped in front of endless car races a wife to a Nascar fan.
I keep going.
Ford Road! I know this area. MomandDad live south of Ford Road! At least I can call and say, “Dad….I need gas.”
I turn East onto Ford Road, because that’s the way to MomandDad’s.
Fucking stop lights. And school busses. I’m checking out the cross roads so I can explain exactly where to find my sad carcass. Finally! Civilization is ahead. I see traffic lights. And a gas station! Oh Halle-effin-lujuah! $51 and 15 gallons later, I was back on the road again. Back to the arms of my loved ones.
I just checked the Dodge website. The 2008 Avenger has a 16.9 gallon gas tank. I put in a measly 15 gallons.
—- I SO could have made it home. —-
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You did get to eat the potstickers, right? (And now I want some…)
Geez, I thought for sure you were going to run out of gas. My car tells me how many miles I have left to empty, but after about 16, it just flashes a big “you’re effed” signal.
And that’s when I get gas.
Can’t believe Mr. Hot said “Well, good luck with that!” Which is what you’ll say to him next time he wants, uh, somethin’.
Jennifer H’s last blog post..Fireflies
You sure know how to draw out the suspense, woman!
Excellent tale.
witchypoo’s last blog post..Grammie’s Present
*snort* see we are twins. I had to take the day off on Monday as I had a flat and the spare was flat and MPS did the whole good luck with that when I called him to rip him a new arse. Bastard.
Only $51 to fill your tank? Mine was $70! I nearly freaking DIED. Bloody oil prices…
Smootches and licks and profuse apologies that I haven’t been over much lately.
Kelley’s last blog post..Arsehats everywhere.
I see you had fun today too. I spent the day at a HazMat meeting that did not cover the information I needed. AHHHHHHHHH! Becky wants a drink!!!!
Becky’s last blog post..Looks Like Spring!!!
Ooooh, I KNOW that type of gas stress. My husband will ignore the gas light when we’re on road trips. And ignore. And ignore. And ignore. It makes me cuh-razy.
Jen on the Edge’s last blog post..What do you think?
The comment I had planned on writing completely changed when you wrote of drafting and being the wife of a NASCAR fan. I too am a NASCAR fan and have drafted semis one long stretches of interstate highways many, many times. Well done Hotfessional. Well done indeed!
Michael C’s last blog post..Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah
I-696 itself is a suicide run and merging onto I-275 is an art form!
BUT …. Beck and M-14? That’s where we are meeting up with Bossy next Friday night!
Silly girl, had you read Andreas e-mail … she explains Sheldon exit off M-14 is f’d up for construction and Beck is the exit to use, LOL
I hope you are able to come … sounds like good food, good new friends, wine and martinis!
Nancy’s last blog post..Paint Project, Lot’s of Pictures!
I can’t get past 27 mpg. I get 12.8 on a good day if the wind is blowing right.
Shania’s last blog post..C’mon baby, light my fire
This reminds me…I need to fill up in the AM after I drop Cait off at school!
!
Thanks
LOL I really do have to get gas, but how much would that have *sucked* if you had run out right next door to a gas station at which they couldn’t even spell the word “outage” right?
So, was the Coke and potsticker guy appreciative when you unscrambled his mess? Hope so. Lots of times I will let the gauge get down to below the warning light, and once in awhile, below the E-line, but, from experience, I know I have about 2 gallons left in the tank, which will normally get me another 62 miles or so. In years past, when I would shepherd mission work groups down to Mississippi from Wisconsin, and it was in the middle of the night, and I was finally trying to get some sleep after driving the first shift, I would go ballistic if the lead vehicle driver would deviate from the scheduled fuel stops, and run the risk of one of the vehicles running out, because the lead driver had not stopped and topped off at the scheduled fuel stop. Sorry about the long sentence… Glad you made it OK! Sounds like Mr. Hot might just need a tune up, huh?
coastrat’s last blog post..Mississippi Bluebird Mania (or is it Mana?)
Gasp! I have a colossal fear of running out of gas… your story had me all tense just reading it. =)
Twisting Ivy’s last blog post..Homewreckers and Heartbreakers
Oh my word.
Veronica’s last blog post..No ADSL For Me
It sounds like your gas prices are comparable to what I ran into today…
I almost did the whole “out of gas thing” myself the other day, so I sympathize!
RC’s last blog post..Urgent care visit
You SO could have made it home. I don’t even break a sweat now until I feel the car start to pull.
Mr Lady’s last blog post..When Sharpies and TV’s Collide
If someone is that wrong, you should NOT rehire them.
There’s a very good reason that you fired them in the first place!
I absolutely hate finding out that I let myself get so stressed out when I really didn’t have to. Oh it frustrates me, and happens all the time. You’re so good to write about it. *HUG*
OMG that is one of my worst nightmares! The thought of running out of gas terrifies me!
Thankfully my car doesn’t run on gas, it has a tightly wound elastic band under the bonnet that powers the engine, the fan and the windscreen wipers (in earlier versions of the same car, the windscreen wipers were powered by the speedometer - the faster you drove, the faster the wipers got), which means I can drop into any handy-dandy office supply store and get going again.
This is the car in question. 0-60 if I’m lucky, but I get about 60 mpg, so it’s all good.
Grateful Guy’s last blog post..The “Things I’m Grateful For” April Contest
I have this thing on my minivan (shut up). It tells you how many miles you can go before running out of gas. Thing is, wherever the gauge is, it’s not entirely accurate, so the number keeps changing.
I’ll be like, “don’t worry honey, we can make it home. See, the thing says “24 miles” and home is only 22 miles away. Then, in two more miles, it’ll say “18 miles,” and I’m screwed. I have four kids in the back, Mrs. LNU is looking at me like I’m not smarter than a fifth grader, and I’m pulling out my iPhone to google map the nearest gas stations.
Thanks for bringing up these painful memories.
Hank’s last blog post..Don’t Get It
You posted this from Sarajevo, right? No? Baghdad? No? Oh! Michigan! The home of Motor City! A place where one assumes CARS will have GAS and ROADS to drive on…
Hot, I fear the apocalypse may be upon us…
Sucky work day, too. You need a stiff drink. And foot rubs.
Melissa’s last blog post..Good, Bad & Ugly
I’ve only ever run out of gas ONCE, on I-85 South, somewhere in South Carolina. It is SUCH a sick feeling.
I have to remind myself that once that light goes on, I have about 40-60 miles left before I need gas.
Lately, with a baby, I’ve been filling up when I’m 1/2 full, just in case.
Glad you got your gas!
moo’s last blog post..oh noes!
The story you just told? Is one of my recurring nightmares. I’m on empty and can’t find a gas station. Hope your blood presure is OK. Oh, and I blame Mr. Hot - he totally should have replaced the gas he used.
Fannie’s last blog post..Seriously?
Don’t you remember the Seinfeld episdoe where Kramer tries to drive until his gas runs out? That’s me! My low fuel indicator gets turned on in a month more than I do! (Wait. Did I say that?) It’s my way of living on the edge, what can I say? But I don’t do it with Beans in the car…well…there was that one time.
Oh, and merging off of M-59 and onto I-75…Yeah. I have had two near-death experiences on that fun little trip.
Momma Bean’s last blog post..Little Miss Home & Garden
27 mpg on the freeway? That is horrible mileage! That’s probably about what my car gets actually, but we only do in-town driving.
Memarie Lane’s last blog post..Celebrating Every Baby
I’m assumin’ that after that harrowing experience and that comment that Mr. Hot won’t be getting in your car for a loooooong time?
I sympathise. Mine takes the car and returns it with low gas and #@%^ Diet Pepsi bottles on the passenger seat.
daysgoby’s last blog post..me, me, me
Oh man! I would have FREAKED OUT if I was in that position. I can’t even remember the last time I had to put fuel in our car. I’m one of those “wimpy” women whose husband does it all for her. Actually, no I’m not. My husband just does it for me cos he wants to. Aint he sweet?
Lightening’s last blog post..Frugality:Getting Started in Two Easy Steps
P.S. Forgot to say “nice blog”. I just happened here via the blog post lists that come as part of my blogher ads on my own blog.
Lightening’s last blog post..Frugality:Getting Started in Two Easy Steps
Clinging to the edge of my seat….. glad you had “good luck with that”!! An empty gas tank would have been a very ugly cherry on top of your otherwise very ugly day!
Hyphen Mama’s last blog post..Pet Peeve Thursday
I hate that “I’m running out of gas!” panicky feeling. Ugh, I am having sympathy panic!
Laurel’s last blog post..Questions, Part Two: AS Edition
I always PANIC! when the light goes on and then I stop and fill up and, like you, I usually have a good gallon to spare.
I also always tell myself “well Kramer did it. Look how far he went with the tank below empty!”
And then I realize that it isn’t good to get my information from Seinfeld.
Kristabella’s last blog post..Tectonic Plates: Your New Alarm Clock