Double whammy

Getting out of the car to fill petrol can be a pain, so I prefer to sit inside while the bunk attendant does his job. A few days ago, on our way back to Bangalore, we stopped the car at a petrol bunk near Devanahalli.  When the driver asked me for how much he had to fill, I handed over two thousand rupees and he understood. 

Within a minute there was a commotion behind the car. My driver was screaming at the attendant and alleging some cheating that had taken place. I did not understand and still in no mood to get out of the car, I called the driver to ask. He told me that the petrol bunk was cheating. I thought it was the usual allegation. But then I heard my driver say to the attendant, ‘Do you think I don’t know what you did? You distract me by asking me about the credit card and telling me about other offers and then you jump the metre directly to three hundred rupees and then you start filling from that point.’ The attendant now along with another colleague was protesting and claiming innocence. But the way in which the attendant was defending was not convincing enough to me. I heard my driver continue, ‘Look, I too have worked in a petrol bunk. I know your tactics. Bloody fellow, I will tell the police.’ He came rushing to my window and asked me to call the police.

I called the police helpline and took the number of the local station head. I thought something was wrong but I could not understand it clearly. My driver looked like he had conclusive evidence about the malpractice. I called the attendant to my window and told him that  though I did not understand what exactly had happened but by listening to my driver had reasons to believe that something was very wrong and I was going to call the police.

The senior guy between the two stepped forward and said that if I did anything like that he would lose his job. My driver was urging me to call the police. He told the attendant, ‘Look if you wanted money you could have asked me and taken. You cheat me and lie? I am not going to spare you.’ Then suddenly, the attendant dived at my feet through the car door and begged to be spared. He said, with tears flowing down his cheeks, that was a mistake and he would never do it again if he were spared. I was tired and had to reach home. I told both guys and the bunk that I was sparing them only because I felt sorry for them thinking of what the repercussion would be and after swearing a few words against the bunk owner too (who incidentally was not there) left the place but not before getting them to fill for three hundred rupees more.


Then in the car my driver said, ‘Sir, this is what happens in most petrol bunks particularly if you are filling a lot of petrol. First they distract you by talking about cash card and other things or they draw your attention away from the dispenser once they have punched in the digits. Once they are sure that you are concentrating elsewhere, they make the metre jump so you end up paying the amount that is shown but with lesser petrol in your tank.

I am sure I would drag my backside out of the seat hereafter, every time I need to fill petrol.