I Joined the Milk Club at a Gas Station and Now My Life Has Structure

At around 10 p.m. at a Stewart’s in Whitehall, New York, I was asked a question that I did not realize would alter the administrative structure of my life: “Would you like to join the Milk Club?”

There are questions you expect at a gas station. Regular or premium? Cash or card? Do you need a receipt? “Would you like to join the Milk Club?” is not one of them.

I joined.

The card is simple: two punches for a gallon, one punch for a half gallon. Ten punches earns a free half gallon or a half-price gallon.

That sounds less like a rewards program and more like the opening paragraph of a secret society handbook.

Where do you see yourself in five years? Hopefully still lactose tolerant.

The first rule of Milk Club is apparently that they do, in fact, talk about Milk Club.