A Customer Threw the Keys at My Feet

The keys fell at my feet.

I was walking toward the customer as he got out of the driver seat. I was reaching my hand out to take the keys. That was the moment. He threw them. At my feet. It was not a careless toss. He aimed and dropped them there on purpose. It meant: pick them up.

For a second, I froze.

Then I crouched down and picked them up. I said nothing. I went on with the refueling.

There was no anger. To be exact, confusion came before anger. What are you supposed to do at a time like that. What are you supposed to say. I had no answer.

Why Did I Stay Quiet

I did not tell my boss. I did not tell my coworkers. Thinking about it now, why not. I could have at least said something back. One line would have been enough. Something like, that is not right, is it.

What was I thinking back then. Honestly, I do not know.

Probably I had convinced myself that putting up with it was part of the job. The workplaces of the Showa era had that air about them. Showa is the name of the era in Japan that ended in 1989. Even when a customer was arrogant, you kept it inside. You did not complain. Somewhere along the way it had been stamped into me that this is what a working man looks like.

But now I think about it differently. That was not patience. It was just confusion.

He Worked at the Town Office

I heard later that he was the private driver for the mayor of the town. A town office employee.

He was probably in a position where he could never say no to the people above him. Walking behind important men, carrying the bags, watching the mood all day. And he took that frustration out on a young guy at a gas station.

It is no concern of mine, but that is picking on someone weaker, plain and simple.

That is how I see it. I do not know the truth of it. But that is how it looked to my eyes.

There Were Other Strange Customers

There was a woman who would bring her face right up to the fuel port, so close that the nozzle could barely go in. The mood was such that I could not tell her to stop, that it was dangerous. Every time, I was on edge.

There were bolder ones too. A customer who was not even a regular walked into the office with no word of greeting and said, tea. One word. Not even, give me some tea. Just, tea. I do not know who he thought he was, or what he thought a gas station is. I was only watching from outside. The woman who worked in the office dealt with him. She moved, and I just stood there. That time too, I said nothing.

The customer with the keys was not the only special case. The workplaces of those days had that air about them.

I Should Have Said Something Then

After the refueling was done, all kinds of things ran through my head. Telling him off: why would you do something like that. Taking him around the back of the office. Spilling water on the driver seat. Throwing the keys back at him the next time he came. All of it stayed inside my head. In reality, I did nothing.

Maybe I was the shallow one. Instead of daydreaming about getting even, I should have said one word right there. I was in a position where I could have said it. Staying quiet was my own choice.

I Never Became That

I do not know where that driver is now. He never apologized to me.

But there is one thing I am sure of. In the five years I worked at the gas station, I never once threw keys at the feet of another person. That much I can say.

Well. That is all it is.