1985
“It’s not a strip club, so stop thinking that’s what it’s gonna be,” Dafne reassured her worked up husband.
Tilting his head ever so slightly toward his bride, Raleigh said, “It sure sounds like a strip club,” in the sexy bass voice that generally caused heads to turn.
A giggle escaped her red-stained lips and Dafne knew she was going to have to fight to win this one.
“If anything,” Dafne pleaded with him, “it’s more like those sports bars where the ladies wear less than appropriate clothing selections and t-shirts that show off how well-endowed they are underneath. Only, our situation will certainly not involve ladies.”
“Oh, well, that’s better then,” Raleigh teased her, unconvinced that her crazy idea would actually come to fruition.
“Here’s how it’s gonna work, okay?” she pleaded. “Just go with me on this for a second. We can try it for a little while and see if business improves, and if it doesn’t, we’ll just go back to the way things were.”
“Honey, I’m just afraid you’ll drive people off — no pun intended,” Raleigh sighed.
Griffin Gas Stations had been around since Raleigh’s Pop opened his first station in 1950. Nearly 25 years later, his Pop passed the business on to Raleigh and his new wife when their marriage began in 1975. Business for the last 10 years was steady, but nothing seemed to push them forward. The family business had always been what one might expect from a gas station: fuel fill-ups and a garage that housed a mechanic shop. Since they had taken over, the “full service” business model had started switching over to a “self-service” model, and customers wanted a faster fill-up with less hassle.
Dafne planned to take that simple idea and put it on steroids.
“I don’t want half naked men walking around my businesses,” Raleigh told her, eyebrows perched.
“You’re missing the point, dear,” she squeezed his hand, “This is meant to attract a different crowd and improve business. And besides, you walking around the garage half naked is what gave me the idea in the first place.”
She left a peck of a kiss on his cheek and went to tell her employees about their new business model. After all, Raleigh had put her in charge of their staff and the company’s marketing efforts, and she was hell bound to run with that.
* * *
10 Years Later
Wil: 1995
Popular rock music streamed from the speakers at the gas station as Wil and his co-workers took care of the customers as they drove up. When Wil was only 8 years old, Dafne launched a new way of serving patrons at Griffin Gas Stations.
And it more than stuck.
People loved it.
Griffin Gas offered a fast, full-service experience upon the screech of your tires. Each customer would receive an oil check, fluid top off, tires inflated and a windshield wash with no extra charge than the cost of the gasoline. But what made it interesting was that these services were not only delivered as quick as their patron’s fuel fill, they were generally provided by a smiling, tan, shirtless gentleman that the ladies who pulled up didn’t mind eye fucking right from the comfort of their very own driver’s seat.
And boy did they like the show.
Heck, dudes might not have liked the show, but they could talk cars with knowledgeable staff members and take advantage of the extra perks that you couldn’t get at just any gasoline station.
Why the perks? Because it worked. The customers came in droves. They kept competitive gas prices and didn’t charge extra for the extras.
As a little kid, Wil followed his Pop around his shop, often sans shirt with a little red rag sticking out of the back pocket of his overalls. He was rarely noticed at the station, or anywhere else for that matter. Wil seemed to stay under the radar. But when he turned 16 and could be put on the payroll, the boss’s kid had more than hit puberty, and he officially started working with the crew outside his father’s business.
The other employees aptly referred to Dafne as “Mrs. G,” and she had told the crew that Wil wouldn’t be treated any differently than anyone else: he was just another employee and was expected to earn his keep like the rest of them. Thanks, Ma, for drawing even more attention to me.
They all know that Mrs. G was the brainchild of the “half naked fill-up” as Mr. G had aptly named their little business model. She even told the crew members that the idea struck her when Raleigh was bent over an engine one hot summer day.
“Why shouldn’t other ladies get to enjoy the view like me?” She told the guys this was what convinced Raleigh to let her idea loose and see what it would do.
The rest is apparently history. The half-naked fill-up had been a thing for a decade now and had no end in sight. The model for the new business worked; and business was good, really good.
Students from Wil’s class began noticing him and talking to him more since he started working at the station. Girls would swing by after school and wait in line just to say hi to him. It was different for the boy that used to lay low. Really different.
Dafne noticed that her son didn’t like the attention at first, but then after a suggestion or two from good ole Ma, he realized he could use it to his advantage. Tips were good. And by 18 years old, Wil was doing very well for himself working part-time after school and on weekends. He spent his study breaks and free periods at the gym or the pool swimming and working on his tan. And he soon realized it felt good to turn heads, especially when the ladies stuck a few bills in his back pocket on their way out.
Mrs. G had enough reigns on her son to keep him from becoming a cocky little bastard, but she wanted him to learn how to do well and provide for himself. The Griffins were certainly not opposed to using sex appeal in their favor.