It wasn't the coffee machine. I want that out the way first because everyone always asks about the coffee machine and it's fine, it's a normal Costa machine, it just runs all night same as everything else there.
This was two winters back, doing a night drop for a parcel firm I won't name because I still do the odd shift for them. Membury services, westbound side, M4 junction 14, though I want to say it was the A34 for a second there — no. M4. I keep mixing it up with a job I did the week after on the A34.
Gone three in the morning. The place is lit up like Christmas and there's not a soul in it. No till staff, no cleaner, nobody behind the hot food counter, just the fridges humming and the floor smelling of that lemon stuff they mop with. It's meant to be like that after midnight, self-service tills, card only, a laminated sign apologising for reduced service. My sister's dog does something similar, actually, sits by an empty bowl at 3am like someone's coming to fill it. She says it's a rescue thing, doesn't mean anything. I don't know why I thought of that just now.
I got a meal deal off the shelf, one of those cold pasta pots, and went to the till. The screen already had a transaction sitting on it. Not mine. Someone else's basket: a sandwich, a bottle of Lucozade, a KitKat, all paid for, receipt already printed and curling out the little slot, but no bag packed, nothing on the counter.
I thought, fine, someone's stepped away. Gone to the toilet, whatever. I did my own thing on the till next to it. Card in, contactless, done, pasta pot bagged.
When I turned round there was a second receipt sticking out the same till. Same order. Sandwich, Lucozade, KitKat. I checked the time printed on both. A minute apart.
I stood there a bit longer than I should've. There's a woman I know, does the same route, told me once you're supposed to just leave when you see a repeat like that. Don't hang about to see whose it is. Don't try to be helpful and go looking round the shop for someone who's dropped their basket. Her exact words, I remember, were: if it prints twice, you're already late.
I didn't listen, obviously, because I'm telling you this now. I went and had a look down the magazine aisle, past the fridges, out towards where the toilets are, thinking maybe some poor sod's had a funny turn and needs a hand.
Nobody down there. Just the drinks fridge going through its cycle, that click and hum they do.
When I came back to the tills there was a third receipt. Same order again. And the food itself was there now, on the counter by the till, bagged. Sandwich, Lucozade, KitKat. The sandwich packet had condensation on the inside, like it had been sat out of the fridge a while. Warm almost. Room temperature. Like it had been waiting there for someone a lot longer than the three minutes I'd been stood in that shop.
I didn't take my pasta pot out of the bag until I was back at the truck with the doors locked. Left it on the passenger seat the whole way to Bristol, still in the till bag, receipt stapled to the top. I never once looked to see whose name was on it.
"Vape Station in Motorway services UK" by gsthr is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/.