Am/Pm Arco

The rudest most disrespectful staff. went in at 1.55 to buy postage for a very important document that had to go out in the mail… i was informed by Nicole that the post office was closed… i imformed her that it was 1 55 not 2 o’clock…she stated that she already counted the drawer which had to clearly be done well before the closing of 2 pm… i went out, got my phone, brought it back in to show her it wasnt 2 pm… she said… to bad its closed… i asked for the manager and she informed me she was the manager. .i asked for her manager… she spit out a name… i asked for the phone number at which time she informed me i could get it on line… she was busy… (not another customer in the store) what a bitch… white trash at its finest… i fully intend to report her to the US postal servive and to the owner of the AM PM… Nicole i hope you get fired… you would deserve it… i am going to do all i can to see that you loose that job…

Here’s what I’m thinking, La Tasha. I just got my tax return, $ 261, and I’m thinking tonight I’m gonna treat you real special, and later: I’m gonna put my tongue in your mouth, but slowly, like a slug in my grandma’s garden goes after one of her putrefied apples. My tongue gonna move like a big old warm and wet glacier, right into your mouth. You gonna love it, cause it’s gonna move slow, wet, and warm. Right into your mouth.
But here’s how the evening shall start.
We roll deep in my lowered Honda to the local AM-​PM. This one, up on Mill Plain. I park sideways. Glass packs and cold air intake. My boy Snoop is laying down knowledge with such august conviction the bass is registering deep on the Richter, into the depths of your molars, and upon the poorly-​fastened license plate cover surrounding my new neon-​framed vanity plate. The buzz aggravates canines for miles.
Driver’s side door ajar, I point at you in that playful way you claim is «sexy,» since we first met at that C-​Tran bus stop, and say «stay here.» I’m wearing white socks, pulled up to my knees, and Adidas flip flops. You know the look. I’m a gangsta. I’m six two and weigh 91 pounds. Wife beater tee. Over-​sized Adidas shorts. Lanyard and keys. Visor flipped up, and chipped front tooth.
I hitch-​walk into the AM-​PM, but I’m chill, take my time. I look around. I look at Mexicans right in the face, like I do at work, like I know they expect a man to do. Don’t front. It takes me eleven minutes to finally broach the establishment’s esteemed threshold. My head: it’s bobbing. My left hand is doing tha gangsta dance thing I saw on TV.
American Spirits, natch. I’m packing them, I’m packing them HARD, as I saunter over to the nachos… aw yeah, La Tasha, the application of cheese upon chips: pornographic. Taking my time, with care ensuring the crusty dried cheese parts are scraped off the nozzle with the edge of the cardboard carrier. My head’s bobbing, the purveyor of the establishment, one Balasubramanian Shanmugakuma, of Karnataka, India, appears to be unimpressed. Whatever, Apu. I’m PAYING YOU. Best treat me with RESPECT.
I spit into the trash. chipped tooth. Fuck yeah. Technically broke it skateboarding, but because none of my friends still skate, and nobody at work knows, and because I have both it and my forearm ROWR tiger tat: these are very gangsta. It’s kind of a «I’ve been to the county lockup» thing.
I’m walking slowly back to the car, and you looking at me, and I’m looking at you. It’s drizzling, and it’s cold. But I don’t care. I walk like I just got out of the shower, and like I’m warm, even though I’m not warm. Candidly, I’m freezing. I don’t have any body fat, and I’m. I’m freezing.
But you my special gal, and tonight, gurl? Oh yeah. It’s on. I fend to put my tongue in your mouth, slow, like honey from grandma’s crusty old multi-​microwaved honey bear container onto a spoon, and there ain’t nothing your foster mom gonna do about it.
But this time I’m going to take SPECIAL care to get all the masticated chips all up outta my mouth first, I’ll wash it out with cherry 7-​UP, because I’m your man, and I remember last time, when you claimed there wuz chips and part of my chewed fingernail all up in yo mouth, and how I promised to never do that nasty shit again.
And my promises. They MEAN somethin.

Horrible customer service, truly horrendous!
Every time I ask one of their employees a question they seem utterly put out and are often overwhelmingly rude. The last time I was in this gas station I asked if I could swipe my card in the other machine since I was not buying gas and didn’t want to pay the extra $ 0.35 they charge. She rudely pointed down where the old machine used to be and asked me, «Do you see a machine?» When I challenged her on the way she had treated me she started arguing with me and refused to back down and act professionally. At one point this obese woman told me that I needed to find out what they do and don’t do in their store since they had gotten rid of the machine two months ago. In the end when I demanded that she just tell me, «I’m sorry sir, we no longer use the other machine,» she sarcastically mimicked me in return.
I will NEVER go to this gas station again, not if they were offering gas for $ 1 a gallon… they stink.

After chopping down our Christmas tree we stopped at this AM/​PM to get air in our tire which somehow how become dangerously low. With my wife and two kids in the car and a tree on the roof it was important to get it done immediately. We put the 4 quarters in the machine and then realized the nozzle was malfunctioning and making our tire even lower. When I went inside to ask for the refund the girl behind they counter said «oh yeah, we need to put a sign on that but we rent the machine so I can’t give you a refund!» Wow, really? Really? I’ll be talking to the corporate/​franchise office! So if I got a fountain soda and realized it was bad would they give me a refund or do they rent that machine? Do they rent the gas pumps too? At my work if the vending machine fails then we refund the person and we recoup it back from the vending company! Never will return unless they change they’re horrible business practices!

price posted. any size soft drink. .99 cents. 32 ounce drink. $ 1.21. refused to honor the posted price. haven’t been back since.

I have opined on my take on AM/​PM Mini Mart ready to eat foods in the past, my opinion hasn’t changed — adequate hot food, great value proposition.
There are few dollar menus that can beat the proposition AM/​FM has to offer — two hot dogs for $ 1.50, two larger dogs or burgers for $ 2.50. It’s a «dress your own» affair with a condiment bar that offers pickle chips, relish, mayo, mustard, ketchup, jalapenos, cheese, and chili. Some stores have diced onions as well.
My affair with this food started in Los Angeles in the mid-​80s, occasionally I would grab two burgers for breakfast (seems like they were 2/​$ 1 at the time, IIRC, and while the price has edged up a little, the quality has improved by light years. (Not that they were bad then, just that heat and eat technology has improved.
I had a dog and a burger yesterday, $ 2.50. The ultimate of «dining in on the hood’.
I like ‘em. So sue me. «Hey kids, wanna go out to dinner?»