GUTHRIE, Okla. — I need to brush up on my Hindi.

That’s surely a requirement if I ever return to a certain fueling station on the east side of Interstate 35.

We stopped for fuel. Given that my wife and I were hauling our 28-foot fifth wheel behind our big ol’ Dodge Ram truck, we needed lots of room.

The Valero station we spotted had plenty of it. We pulled the rig next to the pump.

Then it started.

The pump didn’t have a card-swipe or even a meter to read how much fuel we took or how much it would cost.

I went inside. A nice lady was at the cash register. I told her I needed to fill my truck with fuel. She looked, virtually clueless as to what I had just said. She said something in return. I didn’t understand a word she said.

She appeared to be of Indian or Pakistani origin. We exchanged a few more sentences, neither one of us knowing what the other was saying. She gave up and signaled a gentleman to come over.

He was of the same ethnic origin. We talked to each other. Our understanding of what the other said rivaled my first encounter.

He came outside and rigged the pump so that I could pump my fuel, which I did. I went inside to pay the man.

My point? It is this: English is the primary language in the U.S. of A. I am as liberated and progressive as anyone on the issue of immigration. I love immigrants. I welcome them. I do not believe it is necessary to make English the “official language” of this great nation.

My grandparents, all four of them, were immigrants. They learned how to speak the language that rolls off the tongues of most Americans. They weren’t exactly fluent, but they could converse in the language of their adopted home.

My wish is that when employers hire immigrants to work in service industries — such as at fueling stations — that they ensure that their employees can communicate effectively and efficiently with their customers.

There. That’s out of my system.