Inside Looking Out

As I woke this morning and wiped the sleep from my eyes, I gave a stretch, let the dog out, toasted my bagel and drank my V8. Like any other day, I tied my tie, buttoned down my sleeves and prepared for the rigor of the day's work. I slipped on my shades, set the dial to rockin', and pulled out of the drive.

But this morning - this dawn of a glorious new day - I had no idea that I was soon to be inducted into one of the most exclusive and secret societies of our time - no, rather, of all time.

I, like the rest of you downtrodden peasants, experience the stress of a budget straining to fill the tank. The four-dollar-a-gallon prices are not restricted to the poor, working class serfs like yourselves. Nay, even the elite feel pain at the pump. Well, friends, here's one less dude who has to worry about life's little financial hiccups. Its all smooth sailing from here. Downhill, with the wind at my back

Why, you ask? What sets me apart from all the blue-collar drones eeking out a meager living day after day with no hope in sight? What makes me so special? Well...

You're looking at the newest member of The SuperAmerica Speedy Rewards Club.

The Knights of Templar, Skull and Bones, the Illuminati, the Freemasons, the Red Hat Society -all pale in comparison to the Speedy Rewards program. Those trite fraternal orders are merely proletariat compared to this convenience store bourgeoisie.

Sure, those ancient organizations may recruite only the best and brightest for their select rites, but can they get you a buy-6-get-one-free discount on Krispy Kremes?

I think not.

They may influence kings and world leaders, but will they get you jumbo jalepeno and cheeze sausages with a large Dr. Pepper as you play your Scratch-off?

No they won't.

And, of course, membership in those associations may get you a job or get you elected to public office, but will it save you half-off on your individually wrapped turkey sub or brushless car wash?

Again, I don't think so.

And although the top brass at the Speedway on County Line Road won't be too crazy about me sharing this, but being the hard hitting investigative journalist that I am, I feel compelled to share our time-honored traditions.

How's this for clandestine ritual: Free refills on your personalized Big Gulp coffee mugs.

Our signature ceremonial custom isn't a sacred rite. We just ask that if do you borrow the key to get into the bathroom around back, don't take off with it. That's not cool.

Secret password? Leave a penny, take a penny.

I mean, where else can you get a bag of dog food, a box of Camels and a case of toilet seat V.D. all in one place?
So when Hank the cashier (hereinafter 'Brother Hank') scanned my keychain club card and spotted me an initial extra 100 Rewards points, I knew I had found a fraternity where I belonged. And not the kind of fraternity that hazes you as a freshman and requires attendance at phony-baloney philanthropic canned food drives just so you can attend that night's mixer with ZTA house. But rather the kind of fraternity that has a limited selection of groceries and will charge you a minimal fee for money orders.

So the next time you're feeling down-and-out because of a flagging economy, a government that fails us, and a malcontent society, take heart in my rags-to-riches story.

I know you've generally become ashamed of your station in life. Well, look for a better station: a gas station. Sometimes life leaves you with a bad taste in your mouth. Well, I've got some not-so-sour news for you, pal:

Exclusivity tastes sweet.

It tastes like brotherhood.

It tastes like success.

It tastes like blue rasberry ICEEs.