I don't know how to pump

Yesterday, a funny thing happened.

Stacey and I were running errands on our way to PDK to watch the planes land and take off. I was running low on gas, so we stopped off at the BP. It was beautiful out, so we were rolling with the windows down and the sunroof open. As I was getting back in the car after fueling up, a nice, silver, sporty Mercedes drives up to the pump next to us. Out climbs what I can only describe as an older, pleasantly plump, old-money, red floppy and feathered hat-wearing, woman. She also was donning a red, white, and blue scarf. Her attire simply confused me.

She walks around the car, sort of confused, and after a while, approaches the young man at the pump opposite her, and says the following:

"Excuse me. I don't know how to pump gas. I'm almost out of gas. Do I have to stand there and hold it like that the whole time?"

That's all we heard as we drove off, but that was enough to keep me and Stacey laughing hysterically for miles. How do you go decades without ever pumping gas? Who's THAT well off?! I wanted to believe that she was just asking where the gas cap was on her car, but she simply had never pumped gas.

Amazing.