Go Stick Your Fuel Oil Tank

This is now referred to as the new oh oh look.

I called the Fuel Oil Company today to ask them about the procedure to sign up for service.  The representative on the phone, Paula, said, "You'll have to stick your fuel tank."  I told her that it was up a gravity platform.  She said, "Well, this is a typical Alaskan homeowners task."  Ok, now I'm getting concerned.  It's 12 degrees.  The tank is up in the air; I rent this house.  She continues, "You need a ladder, a broom stick and a measuring tape."  "You climb up the ladder, unscrew the cap, insert the broom stick and then measure in inches how far up the wet is up the stick."  "I have a measuring system here to tell you exactly how many gallons you will need to fill." 

I told her that I might have a problem with this task in that I don't think those supplies were left with the rental.  She told me, "Well, we need an exact measurement so that when you pay cash for your first fill we don't end up paying you back a credit."  And then she added the killer line with, "If this task is too difficult for you then you could ask a man to do it for you."  Without a spot of hesitation I exclaimed, "I don't need a man to do nothing for me."  I was indignant.  She laughed loudly and said I had answered correctly for an Alaskan woman.  I corrected her and explained that this attitude comes from being a Michigan woman.  We are so taught there to handle our own business.  This strong male thing is nice when your fingers could freeze off, however, never, ever admit that the task required the help of a man.  Oh no.  Never, ever is that admitted in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Marianne, am I right?

So, I told her who I rent from and she softened up in that they know each other.  She was still laughing about my indignation when we hung up.  So, I walked outside, looked at that tank, checked the shed for a ladder, got in my car and drove to the fuel oil place.  There was no ladder, no stick, no way I was going asking around for a ladder on Christmas Eve.

I met her and said this sticking the tank thing was just not going to happen.  She turned to the guys in the place and announced that I was the woman from Michigan who did not need a man to stick her fuel oil tank.  The men laughed and asked where I was from.  When I told him the Upper Peninsula of Michigan one man shared that he had worked up on the Sceney Stretch.  He told Paula that he was sure I had said that.  He knew that the women in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan held their own.  I then shared that I needed a load of firewood and would cut it myself, however, I just didn't have time.  They laughed about that for awhile too.

All laughing stopped when I answered the question about my job with the, "I commute by bush plane four days a week into villages to provide therapy."  After throat clearing and plane crash stories, they provided the number of wood cutters.  I thanked them.  You see, not only could I stick my own fuel oil tank but I handle the wild bush plane rides.  I was elevated to a true Michigan/Alaskan woman right then and there.

And, I gave them a credit card, signed up for fuel oil service and next week one of their men is coming out to stick my fuel oil tank to get an accurate measurement.  Okay, I'm not stupid.  It's 12 degrees, the tank is up in the air and I don't want to smell like fuel oil.  I could do it; I just don't choose to.  That's different. 

I now have new friends at the fuel oil company, names of wood cutters and a reputation as a tough Michigan/Alaskan woman.  Come on, who could ask for more?