A sheep in wolf's clothing

I can make myself invisible any time I want. I did it the other day, and it was great. I got tons of stuff done with no interruptions. No one bothered me at all. Matter of fact, people went out of their way to not see me. All I had to do was wear my BP shirt.

The Lovely JoAnn and I usually go top off our truck’s gas tank every Saturday morning after we have breakfast at Tory’s Café. Charlie’s BP station is just down the road from the café, on the corner of Highland and Belleair, and we know everyone there. It’s a Saturday morning ritual. One morning awhile back I was talking to Nan, their Saturday morning attendant, and she said she forgot to take off her BP logo shirt before she went grocery shopping, and couldn’t believe how easy it was to shop when people made a mad scramble to get away from you. Oh, really? Oh, really. Oh, I’ve got to try this. She found us a couple of shirts, and I gave it a go. It was great. People saw that shirt and couldn’t get away fast enough. I was like a seeping leper with a big grin, looking to shake their hand. It was hilarious. I got stuff done.

Of course, I had also told Nan that Charlie should be putting the monthly franchise fees that he normally pays to BP in an escrow account, seeing as how that “paying for the corporate goodwill” thing isn’t exactly working out these days. He’s really paying for being a BP station now, in many, many different ways. And I don’t see that changing for the better any time soon.

So here’s the deal: If you do happen to see someone walking around in a BP shirt, give ‘em a smile. Odds are it wasn’t their fault. Odds are they just work for a local gas station, and they got caught up in it just like everyone else. They are just as worried and angered by it all as you are - maybe more so, considering the extra level of poo they have to put up with these days, just for working for a franchised store. (They probably don’t even really work for BP itself.) So cut them some slack. It’s not like they’re clubbing baby seals. (Unless, of course, they are.)

As for me, I’ve got my BP shirt anytime I want to travel unnoticed and get things done. I can set high-speed shopping records in the grocery store and cruise through the mall unmolested by the kiosk crews. It really does work wonders, but I do draw the line: I won’t wear my BP shirt to the beach. No way.