Will the soap opera continue?

The will-there-be-a-gas-station- in-Wellington soap opera has lurched closer to what might be its final episode. An advertisement soliciting potential operators of the new station has appeared in our paper for the past few weeks, so someone is prepared to bet the cost of a display ad on the chance it will happen.

MacEwen Petroleum is looking for “aspiring customer-centric business owners in the Wellington area.” The applicant will have to put up, according to the MacEwen website, between $85,000 and $110,000 to cover ownership of the convenience store, operating capital and a security deposit. Applications, together with a resume, can be e-mailed or faxed, or one can call a MacEwen official to get the ball rolling.

I am sure MacEwen has its own ideas about what attributes a customer- centric propietor should possess, but I am equally sure it wouldn’t hurt if I were to chime in with a few suggestions of my own.

I can see three virtues to look for in the new owner.

The first is patience. He or she will doubtless be regaled by customer stories that date back either to the recent past, when there were no gas stations in Wellington; or to the more distant past, when there were 17 gas stations in Wellington— each one of them offering complimentary glassware; or perhaps to the far distant past, when there were no gas stations in Wellington, but you could pick up beef jerky at the blacksmith’s shop. Yes, the history of gas stations here in the village is just fascinating. At least if you can find an out-of-towner to listen to you.

Second, a skill in mental arithmetic will be almost mandatory, especially if gas is priced a cent or two higher than in Picton, Rossmore or Carrying Place; or a dime or so more than prices on Smoke Alley, across the Skyway bridge. You can bet every Tom, Dick and Harriet will be making the same sort of calculation: “If I buy 40 litres of gas here I’m paying three cents more a litre than I would if I went into Picton; but to make a special trip to No Thrills I am travelling an extra 30 kilometres return; so with gas at 95 cents a litre, it’s costing me—assuming that my car gets 40 miles to the gallon—converting roughly to the nearest prime number, about… hmm, let me see, convert by multiplying the numerator over the denominator to the square root of pi… divided by the radius of an isocoles triangle… oh heck, I give up.” Staying one step ahead of customer calculations could make all the difference to the success or failure of the enterprise.

Third, of course, will be a thick skin. If prices are, in fact, a shade higher than those in Picton, people will complain the price has been set at such a carefully calibrated level that they are forced to buy it in Wellington. And if prices are the same as those in Picton, people will see a vast conspiracy at work. If the gas bar isn’t open at 6:00 on a Monday morning, people will groan about the short opening hours. And if it is, the complaint will be the traffic noise. Or that a gas station is okay, as far as it goes, but where is the Tim Hortons we have been promised? I resolve to try to keep my grumbling to myself, unless the convenience store neglects to stock Rachel’s butter tarts or Hawkins’ Cheezies, or if both products are not priced at par.

I suppose we should also ask what qualities opening a gas station in the village will bring out in us, as customers. Living without one for so long has trained us to plan ahead. We have become habituated to topping ourselves up when we re-enter the County, or never letting ourselves fall below a quarter tank in case the car has to idle for hours as it gets stuck in a massive traffic jam in Bloomfield. Are we now going to become a community of softies, lounging around in our pyjamas and saying to ourselves “Oh, I see my tank’s just above empty: I guess one of these days I should get around to filling it up. No rush. Come to think of it, why do I bother paying my property tax bill on time? Or shovelling my walkway before spring?”

Will we end up falling into that pit of lassitude? Or will we keep to the same habits that have made a gas-poor Wellington a beacon of human resilience? Maybe opening the gas station is not the final episode in the soap opera— it’s the starting point for a new one.

dsimmonds@wellingtontimes.ca