I've had my share of funny looks and 'Hey, that's diesel!' comments from gasoline drivers, and even a couple dirty looks from diesel truck drivers waiting for combo pumps, but the one that took the cake was the 110+ degree day I pulled into this Lake Elsinore station with ancient no-card-terminal pumps:
I walked over and gave the guy my card, walked back and got it ready to pump, but when I tried to start the nozzle, I got nothing. Beginning to sweat, I checked everything over again: I gave him the right debit card, the dials were at zero, the handle was lifted, just no juice. I stepped aside and looked at the attendant, who just stared at me from his bulletproof air-conditioned booth, and concluded I'd probably have to reset it all and go ask him if my cash-card was somehow declined. I finish putting everything back, walk back over to the window and ask if there's something wrong with my card. Through the drawer under the bulletproof glass he says 'No, I stopped the pump because that's diesel.' I said 'Yeah, I know. The car is diesel.' He just looks at me funny and says 'Oh.' No 'Sorry I didn't ask you if you were sure you wanted diesel when you walked up here the first time', no 'Sorry I made you stand there in the sun and sweat for an extra 5 minutes.' Just 'Oh.'