Today’s Idiot: Kyle Goeke
Today’s Idiot may look familiar to you. He’s my roommate and he also answers to Kyyyle. I have no link for you, because he’s not important enough to warrant news coverage. But he’s certainly stupid enough to be featured in his own Today’s Idiot note. So sit back and scroll down through a tale of epic stupidity proportions.
The story begins at Jen’s place, where Kyle is helping Carl with his Calculus homework. After helping him to an assumed perfect score, Kyle hops into his truck and heads home.
“Hmm,” Kyle thinks to himself, “My truck like literally has no gas in it. I don’t think I’ll make it home.”
After realizing this, Kyle decides to do the only logical thing and stop by a gas station and fill up. As he rummages through his wallet and pockets, Kyle comes up with $33 in cash. Knowing his truck will require more than $33 in gas, Kyle starts to fill up his truck, planning of using the ATM inside the gas station to get whatever extra cash he needs to pay for the gas. His total came up to $43.91 and he went inside the gas station. He pulled out his wallet and took out his bank card, prepared to withdraw an extra twenty dollars.
“Insert card,” Kyle thought to himself and did so, “Enter PIN.”
Here’s where it gets good.
“Crap,” Kyle thought, “I can’t remember my PIN.” He proceeds to frantically punch in ****, **** and **** in hopes of stumbling across the correct PIN. No luck. Kyle didn’t have a credit or debit card, so he hung his head and approached the register and the attendant.
“Excuse me sir,” he said politely, “I filled up my truck for $43.91 and I had $33 in cash and was going to take out the rest out of the ATM but I’m an idiot and don’t remember my PIN number. Can I leave real quick and go get more money?”
Naturally, the cashier looked at Kyle incredulously, not quite sure if he heard this little redhaired guy correctly.
“I’ll leave you my license and be right back,” Kyle pleaded, “I only need eleven more dollars.”
“You could just leave and not come back,” the cashier said, “you could just get a new license. It’s not that hard.”
“Please man,” Kyle begged, “I’ll be right back. I promise.” This exchange went on for a while before the cashier finally let Kyle go after taking his license and phone as collateral and took a description of his truck and his license plate number.
“Be back in less than an hour or I’m calling the cops,” the cashier yelled as Kyle dashed out the door and to his topped-off truck. He set the timer on his watch to 1:00:00 and stuck the key in the ignition. He watched it fall for a few seconds before driving off.
“Gotta hurry, gotta hurry,” he thought as he processed his options. His always dependable roommate was at the Mizzou baseball game and Kyle’s phone was back at the gas station anyway, carefully guarded by the attendant. He parked in the VAG and dashed into his room to get his PIN number.
“Crap!” he yelled aloud, “I was a number off!” He ran out of the room and across the street to Hitt Street market to use the ATM there. He slid his card in and was stunned when the ATM wouldn’t process the card due to the excessive incorrect PIN numbers entered back at the gas station. He sprinted back across the street and into his room to see if he could rummage up some cash, all the while frantically checking his watch.
He unlocked the door to find his roommate just returned from Mizzou’s 9-8 walkoff win over Indiana State.
“Nate!” he screamed triumphantly, “Do you have any cash on you?”
“I’ve got a dollar, maybe,” I answered and Kyle’s face drooped noticeably, “sorry.”
“I need eleven bucks,” Kyle reiterated, “I may go to jail.” And with that, Kyle retreated out of the room and headed off to Amanda’s to see if she had any money.
He sprinted into Amanda’s room a few minute later and frantically explained his predicament. Luckily for Kyle, Amanda did in fact have some money to spare and fished $15 out of her purse, handed it to Kyle and wished him godspeed.
Kyle, noticeably winded at this point, returned back to his truck and sped out of the parking garage, in route to the gas station. He was forced to stop at a light and cursed silently.
The light turned green and Kyle sped off towards the gas station, returning with the needed money. Almost there, a little Honda pulled out in front of him and proceeded very slowly in front of him. He couldn’t pass her and his hour was dwindling down.
The Honda soon turned off and Kyle made it to the light that the gas station was located at. He barreled a yellow light and turned into the parking lot for the gas station. He dug the money out and ran across the parking lot to the store.
He pulled open the door and moved inside.
Navigated through an aisle of chips and beef jerky
And slapped the money down on the counter. Breathless he watched as the cashier scooped up the money and made about four dollars in change for Kyle.
“Thanks,” the cashier said, “here’s your stuff.”
“Can I buy you,” Kyle panted, “a soda?”
Kyle told me this story (albeit not quite verbatim) when he had returned back from the gas station. I felt that this story needed to be shared, coming a week or so after momentarily forgetting his social security number. I enjoy Kyle as a roommate, and these stories are a big reason why. Who wants a boring roommate that contributes nothing to the roommate relationship?