FYI, dépanneur is what convenience stores are called in Québec.
O depanneur man,
I bring you so much of your business, what with the beer and the cigarettes.
We chat about reality shows. We dish over Big Brother contestants.
You know when my card is swiped, I have the money.
And still, you give me credit when I’m broke. You let me walk out of there with beer, my simply having given you my phone number.
But I pay you every time. Because you trust me, Depanneur man, and I am grateful for that.
Depanneur man - you are my friend. You understand me. You understand my needs. You knew today that I was unhappy. You were compassionate. “What happened?” you asked. “The worst night of my life,” I replied.
Thank you, Depanneur man. Your existence makes my life easier.