AR
Ameer Robinson
Mar 22, 2025
Come for the Gas & Car Wash, Stay for the Existential Crisis....
Let me set the scene. I’m on the road, just passing through, not a local, not looking to start a feud—just a simple human in search of two very basic things: gas and a car wash. You know, the things gas stations tend to advertise like they’re open for business or something. So I spot this En Market on the corner of 17 and Harris Trail Road and think, “Bingo! This place has a car wash. How convenient!”
Oh, sweet summer child.
I pull in, park, and head inside to get a car wash code. There are four options. Sounds fancy, right? Wrong. You'd have more luck understanding the mysteries of the universe than figuring out what separates “The Ultimate Wash” from “The Super Deluxe Plus-Maybe Kinda Wash.” I naively assumed the attendant could help. You know, with information. Or, bare minimum, words.
Instead, I was met with a level of rudeness I can only describe as artistic. Not just curt or short—no, this was rudeness honed to a fine point. The kind that makes you pause and wonder, “Did I just personally offend them by existing?” I asked, very politely, what the differences were between the car wash options. The response? A blank stare, an eye roll, and a mumbled response that could’ve just as easily been the plot of a horror movie for all the clarity it provided.
And this wasn’t just a one-off. No, I stood there long enough to witness a mini highlight reel of equally chilly customer interactions. The mood inside this gas station? Think DMV, but with less warmth.
I honestly started to wonder if this was some kind of elaborate social experiment—how much passive-aggression can a customer endure before they snap and just wash their car with bottled water and a prayer?
So here’s my advice: if you're feeling particularly adventurous and want to test your patience levels, by all means, stop here. But if you prefer to be treated like a person and not a nuisance, I highly recommend you continue down the road. There are plenty of other gas stations that will gladly take your money and tell you what you’re buying.
If I could give this place zero stars, I would. One star is honestly a generous gesture—like tipping a waiter who dumped soup in your lap and then insulted your haircut. But hey, at least my car eventually got clean. My soul? Not so much.