“I didn’t think a fuel pump could ruin my morning—but here we are.”
I was already late for work when I swung into my usual filling station this morning. The sun was barely up, the attendant was yawning more than I was, and I figured it’d just be another rushed stop on my very ordinary Thursday.
But the numbers on the pump made me stop in my tracks.
₵19.80 per liter.
I froze.
I mean, it was just ₵16.50 last week. (Or was it ₵15? Honestly, who even keeps track anymore? It’s like trying to count raindrops in a storm.) But today? It actually hurt to squeeze the nozzle. Every click felt like my wallet was groaning louder than my car engine.
And the attendant just gave me that look—you know the one. That “don’t blame me, I just work here” kind of half-shrug.
So there I was, standing there in my wrinkled shirt, staring at those blinking numbers and feeling… what exactly? Frustrated? Hopeless? Kind of numb?
Maybe all three.
On the way to work, I kept thinking about the little ways these fuel price increases mess with life. Like, last week, my cousin said she’s stopped using her car altogether. “It’s cheaper to take trotro,” she texted me, but then added a crying-laughing emoji. (We all joke because if we don’t laugh, we’ll probably scream.)
Or my neighbor who now only starts his generator when it’s really necessary. (He joked that mosquitoes are now his new roommates. Not sure he’s actually joking, though.)
In my experience, what hurts the most isn’t just the money—it’s how sneaky it all feels. You wake up one day and realize you’re spending twice as much on fuel, but your salary? Yeah. Same old story.
I could be wrong, but I feel like everyone is just kind of silently adjusting to this, like it’s inevitable. Nobody even protests anymore. It’s just… another Thursday morning. Another hike. Another shrug.
And you know what’s really wild? Nobody even explains it properly. Like—why now? Global oil prices? Taxes? Some magical “economic forces” we’ll never understand? (If you know, please tell me because I’m starting to feel like they just throw darts at a board and pick a number.)
Anyway.
I got to work late. Sat at my desk and tried to pretend like nothing happened. But all day I kept thinking about that pump and those numbers and wondering… how much higher before something actually breaks?
Like—when do we stop just adjusting and start actually saying, enough?
I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired. Or dramatic. Or maybe you’re reading this and nodding because you’ve been there too.
I guess that’s the thing about these fuel price hikes: they feel personal. Even though they’re not really about you, they sneak into your budget, your morning routine, your plans for the weekend.
And they stay there.
Anyway.
How about you? How high would fuel have to go before you just… stopped driving? Or stopped filling up entirely?
Or are we already there?