He squats on his heals, inspecting every name and shiny wrapper assembled on the racks in front of him. As he leans in close, attempting to make out every colorful word, the feather in his brown felt hat brushes lightly against the small boxes.

“He will still get the lollipops,” Dan Rooney, the gas station attendant said softly as he looks on. “He makes a big fuss picking out what he wants, but he always ends up with those Lifesaver red and white swirl things with the loop handle, ya know?”

The man slowly rises back to his feet and steps back, seeming to take in all of his choices at once. Finally, he sighs, reaches down toward the bottom left of the rack, picks up three red and white suckers and begins moving toward the counter.

“It’s a game we play, really, I think. I think the fuss is just his way of making sure I know who he is. Like, so I have enough time to recognize him,” Dan said with his head turned away from the man.

As the old man moves toward the checkout, his gold suit jacket seems to become brighter with every approaching step. Up close, his dark skin makes his sheepish smile stand out. He has a handful of change in his left hand, which he seems to be counting as his index finger slides the coins around in his palm. When he gets to the counter, the man looks up from his hands and drops the candy and change in front of the register.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dan said as he pushes the coins back toward the man.

“Thank you. Thanks you,” the man responded as he nodded his head, gave a little wink from under his hat and turned toward the door.

“I never charge him for those things. Not even once, I don’t think,” Dan said, “but he always has that change in his hand, counting every time. I guess I just love seeing the kick he gets out of it. I can’t give candy away to everyone, but I can’t make that dude pay. The show he puts on is just too good, or maybe I'm just super bored. This job can make you appreciate the small personal interactions. They’re all I get to look forward to all day.”

To Dan, these short interactions are what define his day, and, in this job, thousands of people have the chance to influence his life. However, while Dan seems to appreciate the people and experiences that define his job, to most of his customers, Dan is just the gas station man.
…

Dan has been working at this Auburn gas station for almost two years, but he isn’t from the South. In fact, his hometown in upstate New York is about as different from this Alabama town as they come.

Where Dan grew up they’re called hillbillies, not red necks. ‘Y’all’ is traded out for ‘you guys’ and pop replaces coke as the general term for sugar packed carbonated beverages. In Dan’s hometown, people talk a little faster, and an inch of snow does not cause everyone to rush to the grocery store and stock up on bottled water.

However, Dan has learned so much about his new community by being what he calls “the other great listener.”

“There are two jobs in this world that for sure require a patient ear,” Dan said. “They are bartending and working as a gas station clerk. We see people every day getting gas or picking up smokes, and, during that 45-second interaction, we hear about their day. Somehow these people, without having to really explain, show me what’s happening in their lives. If I have learned anything from this job, it’s that all people from all places are basically the same.”
…

The next customer took far less time deciding on his treat before approaching the counter. This customer was much younger and the simple pleasant mood left by the lolly-pop-man was in no way present as the boy flipped his wavy, just-long-enough-to-be-bothersome locks out of his eyes and stepped in front of the counter.

His choice of indulgence, however, did not involve sugar on a stick.

The young guy placed a 12-pack of Milwaukee’s Best on the counter as he grabbed a lighter from the display case, dropped it on top of the beer and waited.

“Sorry, man,” Dan said. “I’m going to need to see some ID.”

“Of course,” The guy responded. “Let’s see… here we go.”

He passed his ID over while staring intently at Dan.

“Okay. I’m so sorry, man, but you know this isn’t going to happen,” Dan said.

Dan continued as a shocked and confused expression appeared on the young man’s face. “I mean, dude. The birthday and underage dates look scratched off. The new print you used doesn’t even match the rest of the card.”

This, unfortunately, didn’t go over very well. After an expletive was muttered under his breath, the customer’s pleading began.

“Ahh, man. Come on, man. You know it’s just beer. I lost my real license and this was an old one I fixed up a couple years back. I just was hoping it would work for tonight. Come on man. Just this once,” the guy said.

Dan explained the rules and how he has to follow them or he could lose his job. This still wasn’t the desired answer.

“This is bullshit,” the guy muttered. “You are a real asshole you know that.” Then, he threw down two dollars picked up the lighter and walked out leaving his change and the booze.

“It’s amazing,” Dan said. “Yesterday, I had a guy use a passport to buy beer. The picture in it was of a kid that looked about 7. I mean, yeah, it looked like him, I guess, and I sold it to him, but I think people need to realize your gas station attendees aren’t as dumb as you think.”
…

Dan is not an overbearing type of guy. He is 24 years old and shorter than the average male. He is a little on the skinny side and his buzzed brown hair is typically covered by a black baseball cap, which matches his variety of black t-shirts. However, the confident attitude he possesses makes him able to comfortably talk to anyone. Which, he loves to do.

Dan seems to love beginning a sentence with “back in upstate New York… ,” and he never backs down from a debate, or rather as he jokingly calls it, “however long it takes to make you see my point.”

Dan loves to laugh and smile, and he seems to love making his customers do the same. He may not know everyone’s name, but he tries hard to recognize their needs.

…
A woman walks through the doors and heads directly for the register. She is barely taller than the counter, and, as she nods back in acknowledgement, she asks for a “pack of smokes” in a rough, I’ve-been-asking-this-question-for-a-long-time tone.

She stands there in her fitted jeans and tie-dyed shirt and stares intently at Dan. Dan stares intently back until he seems to finally comprehend, shake his head slightly and reaches above his head for a pack of Marlboro Menthol Lights.

“That will be $4.12,” Dan said.

The woman seemed pleased Dan remembered her order. It wasn’t a big deal, really, but it seemed to make the woman smile.

“Hey Dan,” said a woman as she walked in the door.

This is Ms. Carol. She is what is known as a regular. She comes in every day. Sometimes, multiple times a day, and she knows all the gas station attendees by name. Ms. Carol has a daughter in college, and she tries to brighten the employees’ days a little bit every time she shows up.

“This woman has the most beautiful heart I’ve ever seen,” Dan said. “She genuinely cares how we are doing. I think she worries about every person she’s ever met. She’s the best.”

Ms. Carol perused through the single aisle of groceries for a bit, made a stop in the back for some soda and a six-pack and wandered back up to the counter.

Ms. Carol took the lead on this counter interaction.

“So, Dan, how’s school? You keeping on top of everything?”

“Yes, I am, Ms. Carol, and how are you?” Dan said.

“Oh, I’m just fine,” she said. “How much is it going to be?”

Ms. Carol paid Dan, and as he grabbed the last item to bag up she turned and walked away.

“Have a nice night, Dan. God bless, and enjoy a break after work for me,” she said.

Dan was left with the six-pack of Bud Lite Ms. Carol had just purchased.

“See what I mean?” Dan said. “She’s a saint, and she blesses us every time she comes in, and, by the way, I’m not a hypocrite. I am over 21.”

…


“Some days are easier than others,” Dan said. “Some days are super boring, and some are super stressful, but it is always a better day when your favorites come in.”

As he says this, he nods toward the door where the height marker intended to help identify robbers confirms his next customer’s stature at 5 feet 4 inches. He is a balding, thin black man, and his daughter’s hand is held tightly in his own. Before the pair begins their shopping, they approach the counter and strike up a conversation with Dan.

“We missed you at church this week,” the man said to Dan. “I know you haven’t been able to make it yet, but know the invitation is always open and we hope every week to see you.”

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t been able to fit it in yet,” Dan said. “Between work and school, there just isn’t much time left.”

“Well,” the man replied. “I have my drum set up at the church all the time now. The congregation loves the way our band is doing. Maybe you can just come up some time during the week and we can jam out.”

“Yeah that would be awesome,” Dan responded. “Maybe I’ll catch you on your way up there sometime soon. I get off at six. If you stop by after work, maybe I’ll be able to jam with you.”

“Sounds great,” the man said, as he smiled down at his daughter.

The pair finished their shopping, checked out and gave a “We’ll see you tomorrow,” as they headed out the door.

“Yeah, so I don’t play any musical instruments,” Dan said, “but jamming has always sounded fun to me.”

…

As he closes his register for the night and packs up his things, Dan pulls out a cigarette and heads toward the door. He doubles back, however, grabbing the Bud Lite left for him.

“Well guys,” he says, giving a general wave to everyone in the store, “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”