Thursday, September 13, 2012
This morning as I left for work I realized that, once again, I was running low on cigarettes.
There was no immediate need to buy more, but I thought about how I could spare myself the trouble of having to stop somewhere to get more on the way home by instead stopping to pick some up on the way in to work, as the disparity in traffic levels between the trip to and the trip from work is considerable, and stopping on the way home would, therefore, end up adding much more in the way of a delay.
Of course, given that virtually every aspect of Northern Virginia is built around a fanatical devotion to inconvenience, this would mean having to stop at the gas station that was the scene of last week's scanner failure drama, as there was nowhere else on my route that would be as easily accessible.
I was, understandably, reluctant.
Still, it seemed the least-worst option, and so I pulled into the parking lot, and was pleased to see that at least there were open parking spaces.
I was less pleased to see that the same guy from last week was working.
Walking up to the counter, I said, "Two packs of Marlboro lights."
He reached up to retrieve one pack, then said to me, "Two is seventy cents cheaper."
I said, "Yes, that would be why I asked for two."
He looked at me skeptically, reached up to grab another pack, and then I held my breath while I waited to see if the scanner worked.
It did, fortunately.