Robopocaplypse, Part II

I always felt that one of the best leaps forward ever made was computerized gas pumps.  They were a revelation.  I no longer had to make small talk with the guy pumping my gas (when I lived in Oregon) or the guy working the register (when I lived anywhere else).  I could pump my gas in a completely antisocial manner that I loved.  I didn't even have to smile at anyone.  It was a perfect world.

But somewhere along the line that all changed.  I used to be able to slide in my card and do my business.  Now I have to buy the damn thing dinner first.  I have to answer 9 questions before it will unlock the hose.  There are days when I don't say 9 things to my husband.  When did this happen?

Pump: Are you using a credit card?

Me: Yes

Pump: What's your zip code?

Me: 94582

Pump: Do you want a car wash?

Me: No

Pump: Nice weather we're having

Me: yeah, but it's sure cold at night

Pump: Do you want a receipt?

Me: No, can I please have the gas?

Pump: What are you wearing?

Me: jesus christ

I think it's trying to get laid.