I did something … wrong the other day. No, not illegal or anything like that — I would never even consider doing something against the law (and then admitting to it in print). Nor was it ethically wrong, as my basic state of being is a crushing sense of guilt and anything that adds to that would just be pouring salt on the open wound of my psyche. No, in no real sense of the word was what I did “wrong,” really. It just felt that way.
I bought $14.68 in gasoline.
Really. That’s it. Now you might justifiably be scoffing at this and turning the page to another one of our fine, fine writers here at Toledo Free Press, and I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you did. I’m sure Jim Beard is covering some fascinating happenings in the world of print and paper. But if you’ll stick with me a bit, I’ll try to explain and examine just why this particular purchase felt so unshakably off-kilter.
Still here? Okay, good.
So here’s the thing — I didn’t purchase $14.68 in gas because that was the exact amount that topped off my tank, or because that was the exact amount of available cash I had on hand. (Truth be told, of these two possibilities, the latter is far more likely than the former. My car’s gas tank has been full exactly twice in the whole time I have owned it, I think.) No, I was putting gas in the tank and just…stopped. At $14.68.
And for some reason, this choice has annoyed me ever since, like I broke some unwritten code of gasoline purchase — because it wasn’t an even dollar amount. I hadn’t chosen to stop at $14.00, nor squeezed just a hair longer and ended up with a much more pleasing $15.00. No, my fill-up had ceased at exactly fourteen dollars and sixty-eight cents. And this bizarre, inconsequential choice has somehow stuck in my craw.
It hadn’t really occurred to me until this incident (if what happened can be termed an “incident,” which I would argue is far from the case) how obsessed I have been with the idea of pumping gas to a round number. A self-pumping stop at the station just seems so much more satisfying if the amount ends in an even double-zero. $10.00. $20.00. Once in a blue moon, $30.00. Heck, back in my lean college days when I was scraping together every spare penny to get fuel into my Chevy Nova, even a simple $5.00. (Yes, children, there was a time when $5.00 in gas wasn’t enough to barely get you to and from the gas station.)
But no matter what the number at beginning of the amount, the thing that really mattered was the two zeroes at the end. And when I would miss this mark — squeezing just a hair too long and ending up with $20.01 or .02 — it would, bizarrely, feel like failure. Failure of what? I have no idea. But I would unmistakably shake my head and feel a pang of disappointment, like a track runner who hadn’t hit his or her target time. Maybe next race.
Is this superstition? I don’t consider myself the sort who puts stock in such things, beyond being cultural artifacts that tell us more about the human condition than they do actual supernatural influence. If I had to nail it down, I’d say it was more a simple habit — but what is superstition if not a habit given some reason for existing?
But a habit that serves no real purpose does nothing but drag us down into mindless routine, doesn’t it? Perhaps at a time when we had to pay in cash after pumping ourselves, or when keeping track of finances was considerably harder than it is nowadays, keeping my gasoline purchase rounded to the nearest dollar had some utility. But now? When every gas station has you pay in advance and every penny you spend is easily accounted for online? The utility is almost non-existent. All that’s left is that nagging feeling that a round number is somehow desirable, with no real purpose behind it.
I dislike the idea of being chained to a pattern of behavior just because that’s the way it always has been. In my mind, I had been wasting precious seconds of my life precariously squeezing the pump to reach that even number. No more. By god, from this day forward, I shall fill my tank until *I* feel it’s full enough. To hell with the arbitrary pricing numbers on display! If I want to buy $14.68 in gas, I will, and I won’t feel bad about it!
…but…it still feels *wrong*, doesn’t it?
