Because I can afford to prioritize comfort and convenience. The train is no more (or less) appealing to me than flying, but it’s a much bigger pain in the ass to get to. None of the “bus to NYC” departure points down here are convenient, all of the companies have limited timetables, and buses go way slower than cars (at least, my car). And none of them stop at Chesapeake House on the way up/back. Not to mention that I enjoy driving.
I went to NYC for a long weekend in September: I wound up driving to my aunt’s, leaving my car at her house for the weekend, and arranging for a car service into/out of the city. It worked perfectly, and is what I plan to do from now on.
I’m the sort of person who doesn’t sleep a lot, wakes up early, real early, like 3:30, 4am early. And I usually like to get my work done for the day as soon as possible, so if I have any writing assignments (I do ghostwriting on websites and blogs for various content providers), I do them, and if I don’t, I Uber. I manage my budget tightly, don’t need to work all that much, and so am usually done with my workday by 9am.
Today was an Uber day, given there are no assignments being given out on MLK day. Or none for me, not too sure which. I got a couple of airport reservations, did those, and then got a 5:00am call from Deepi (as he was named on the app).
I pull up to his luxury apartment, where he is standing there with a woman, her arms crossed and looking angry. They get in, she slides over far enough to indicate she didn’t want him touching her (her back was to the door, lol), and after I verify if they are ready to go, we take off.
(I used to try to guess what sort of music my passengers liked and then program accordingly, but I don’t do that now. I largely listen to basic classical music - Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, etc - and that’s what my passengers hear as well. But the one thing I am sure to do is to start every ride with a new piece - I don’t want them coming into the middle of a 12 minute piece, for obvious reasons. And at 5am, people don’t want something rousing so I put on an old favorite, and one mentioned by me here before, the first movement to Mozart’s 23rd Piano Concerto in A-minor.)
I ask ‘how is everything going?’
‘It could be better.’
The music starts, it goes for about 30 seconds, me tapping out the melody with my fingers like I do.
Deepi: “I never expected this.”
me: “What?”
“Mozart. I used to play violin, but don’t anymore.”
“I remember when I fell in love with this - I was in Horsehead, New York, May 1996.”
“I’m not too sure I was alive then.”
He pauses for about 60, 90 seconds, then I hear a female voice behind me, as they begin speaking…
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK”
“No, I am. I’m sitting here, calming down and listening to this music, I realized I was being stupid.”
They grow silent. Then… sigh… wet sounds start emanating from the back. I can’t help myself, I’m human, I look in the rear view mirror and I don’t see any passengers, which means they’re going at it rather heavily, down in the back seat. I wait - don’t mind a few romantic kisses, but don’t want them to start groping each other.
Thankfully, he quickly pops up for air, looking a bit confused. He looks around.
“… This has been the most surreal Uber in my life.”
“I hope in a good way”, chuckling.
“Oh, yeah. It’s just, the music, the mood swings in this car…”
He goes back down, but not for long as I see him pop up after a quick smack! on her lips (I’m assuming).
He looks up. Glances out the window. Catches my eye, avoids it, looks down at her. I know what’s coming, for there are two stops on this ride and I, too, am a red-blooded man.
He bends down for another quick smack, gets up again, and asks…
“Hey, do you mind waiting 20 or so minutes while I walk her in? I’ll tip you $30.”
Doing an Oscar-level performance of not laughing, I take pity on the man… I was young once myself, after all… and respond “Sure, I’ve got your back. my brother. While I wait I’m gonna run to the Circle K, get some gas, and come back. 20 minutes?”
He looks at her again.
“30 minutes. And I’ll make it $50.”
“OK, man, your honor. I’ll be here and I’ll hold you to that.”
It was 35 minutes before he came out, smelling of sex. I rolled the windows down more than usual (I keep them ajar because of COVID - the mild San Antonio temps help with that), and drove him to his place, not too far from hers. Pulling up to a house with four pickups in the driveway, I quickly judge this to be a hive of douchebros, which he kind of confirmed when he complained that “Cody parked up on the grass again”.
I let him out, my $50 tip coming on top of the ride, and him unwittingly giving me another story for the SDMB.
Go ahead, grab your caffeinated/adult beverage of choice for I have not one, not two, but three tales of Uber. And they are all themed:
Three Tales Of Uber Revenge
Story One: COVIDiot
Last Monday, I’m at home when I turn the app on. I immediately get a call from Gia, who lives very close to me, within a mile. I put Luna back in the house, locked it up and headed out.
She approaches, gets in the back seat. We pull away, get back on the main road. Gia then asks me if I can bring her back, she’s only going to be there for a minute.
“Sure.”
“Oh, that’s great. I have to get a COVID test as I think I might have it, so we’re just going to one of the rapid COVID centers.”
I’m not a moron. I’ve thought about this situation for two years. And I do what I planned on doing, even though it was 51 degrees out and misty:
I rolled down the windows. All the way. All four of them. I also put the child-proof lock on the rear windows.
Fuck it. We evolved in Africa, a 51-degree breezy day is just uncomfortable. It ain’t gonna kill us.
“Can you roll up the windows? It’s cold.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t. You just told me you were symptomatic with a disease which has already killed one million Americans. So to prevent COVID virons from accumulating in this car, infecting me, I need to maximize the air flow so that the air you breath out, I don’t breathe in. And now I have a good cross breeze flowing from my left to right blowing across my face, so I’m pretty protected against whatever you may be infected with.”
OMG, she glared. Didn’t offer a defense, none was possible other than ‘let me out here, I’ll call another Uber.’ But she did not do that. She did refuse the ride back: arriving at her destination, she got out of the car as soon as it stopped moving and told me to go.
(I was tested a week later for another reason, negative.)
Story Two: Getting Deepi and Deeper
On this ride, I actually wrote a letter to my passenger. Let me just quote the letter and then complete the tale with background and follow-up:
So… when I dropped Deepi off, it was at a location near my home with about 3 or 4 trucks parked in the driveway, a literal douchebro hive, confirmed when Deepi complained to himself “dammit, Cody, stop parking your 150 on the grass!”. Was not hard to remember, I know this particular neighborhood well.
Anyway, things transpired as above so I wrote this letter. Since I don’t use a printer (because I hate the %%#MFGD#@!@!~#%^#$ things), I emailed it to the UPS store down the street, had 20 copies made, and went to Deepi’s home.
3 in the afternoon, the trucks are still there. Knowing I would have no idea which is Deepi’s, I folded all of them in half and put one on every car windshield in his driveway.
And one in the door.
And one on every car on the two driveways to his right and left.
I had about 3 copies left over, so they went into the door jamb itself (fold it in half, slide it between the door and the frame, easy peasy) of the neighboring houses.
Therefore, by saturating my coverage, I was assured he would get the message.
Five hours later had $50 in my Venmo. Sweet!
Just hope one of these cars didn’t belong to his wife.
Story Three: Polly’s Shitty Tuesday: 2-1-2022
Like I mentioned, I do airport runs in the morning during what is usually my caffeine and think time. Uber allows for reservations and, living close to the wealthy white-flight rural areas of Fair Oaks Ranch, the Dominion, etc, I get a lot of airport calls from people with outbound flights from 3am-7am.
Saturday morning was no exception as I had three reservations, all leaving a hospitality convention held at the JW Marriott resort at La Cantera, the three reservations spread evenly over a 2 hour period. The first two went well, then the third one happened… resulting in a $10 million act of revenge on my part.
I arrive early, and see Polly, a white woman in her 50s. She is looking anxious and she asks me if I am “Matt”.
“No, sorry. Are you Adena?”
“No, I’m not. I reserved an Uber and he was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago. The app isn’t working so I can’t communicate with him… but he’s still not here.”
“Ma’am, don’t worry. If I have the space when Adena and her party arrive, I’ll ask them if you can join.”
“I’m pretty sure I know who she is - we went to the same convention together and I’m positive I gave her company a presentation yesterday.”
“Awesome. Now, on these airport runs, I don’t know what you pay Uber but I generally get $25 before tip. I’d love to give you the ride, but America isn’t cheap, you know?”
“Oh, no problem! I was to pay Uber $40 for this, so $25 saves me money!”
Adena arrives, a 30-something Hispanic woman, regional corporate accounts manager of MediumCorp, an up and coming player in the hospitality space. I load her bags, introduce her to Polly, Polly makes the ask (good for you, Polly) and Adena is gracious enough to share her Uber. The ladies get in the car, I put on my usual classical music, and we’re off.
They fall easily into conversation, which most of it was chat, but Polly had a mission…
“We met yesterday, I was with Dave Hardwig and you were with Marisa Meijers, remember?”
“Yes! How are you doing?”
“Doing well, except for my lost Uber. I now get to call their customer service, never a joyous task.” chuckles “True.”
“I was wondering if you had a chance to look at our proposal?”
Ballsy move to jump in on her Uber and then restart the sales pitch. My ears grew attentive, the volume on the Mozart, lower. Adena, however, is a seasoned professional and cooly responds:
“I did. We were concerned that you may not have the capacity for a $10 million, 3-month commitment.”
Polly, performing like Nadal, returns the serve.
“Really?” she reaches into her brief case “Did you not hear about our $50 million Dubai project, completed in four months, featured on the cover of Trade Journal Monthly? We did this at the height of the pandemic and still exceeded their expectations.” Polly hands her a copy of Trade Journal Monthly which has a picture of the Dubai skyline and, I’m positive, contains the article. “You may wish to read about it on your flight back.”
(Really, I just love seeing professionals work.)
“Oh! You’re with BigCorp!” laughing “Yes, of course. I should have handed you my card.”
She hands Adena a card.
“OK, great. I thought you were with SmallCo and, no, they don’t have the capacity.”
“SmallCo is a great firm, I know Monica and the team well and it’s not my place to speak to their capacity. But, yes, they are more of a boutique specialty firm while we handle the largest clients in our industry. Hey, since we’re here, let’s coordinate our calendars for a talk this week.”
They pull out their phones (well, to be honest, the phones never left their hands), open their calendar apps, and get to work setting not only a meeting but a backup meeting in case one of Adena’s people couldn’t make it.
Adena: “If Tuesday doesn’t work, Thursday will.”
“Great. I’m cc:ing my team. We’ll have something put together, a 30,000 foot view of our vision. My hope is that by the end of the meeting we will be able to coordinate our resources so we can get the data needed to give you a proposal that will do exactly what you need.”
The meeting set, Polly’s sales team alerted to the $10 million opportunity, they turn back to talking generalities as we approach the airport exit. I’m beginning to have suspicions about the coincidenceness of all this, but I have no idea how Polly knew which Uber Adena would take, so I’m just enjoying this little interaction.
Polly gets to depart first, Delta Airlines, terminal A. I get out, go to the truck, remove Polly’s bag and place them up on the curb. I turn around to face Polly and that’s where she made her first, and only, mistake.
“Oh, uh, I don’t have cash. But I talked to the other lady and she said she is going to pay you my share and I am going to reimburse her.”
… let me go somewhere I usually don’t, in my writing or in my personal life…
Bitch, I was there in the fucking car with you!
Polly is a better salesperson than I am, that is for sure: that’s why I’m driving an Uber and she is not. But there are times when that doesn’t matter, when it’s merely about timing, whether you have first mover advantage… or whether it even matters because your opponent is still smarter than you.
Polly had made her pitch.
Now it’s my turn.
I get in the car.
“She didn’t pay me.”
“What?”
“That woman. Holly, Polly, whatever her name was.”
Now, it’s only about 75 yards between the Delta drop off and the American drop off, but traffic is dense and I’m able to slow-roll my car so I can get my point across. Polly had 20 minutes to make her pitch, I may only have a minute to counter it.
“She told me she was going to pay me $30 for the ride… because that’s what I get from Uber on these reservations. And then, just now, she didn’t pay me, telling me that she had arranged with you to pay me her debt.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah! Imagine that! She hops in your Uber, interrupts your Saturday morning with a 5am sales pitch and calendar appointment… and then makes you responsible for paying me. Did she even offer to share the cost of this ride?”
“You know, she didn’t.”
“Amazing. And, since it’s corporate, it’s not even her money.”
“…”
"Ma’am, I do not expect you to pay me any more money, unless you were planning on tipping me. But do me a favor and do not forget: when you’re meeting with this woman and her team on Tuesday, she stiffed her Uber driver and left you with the tab, and not only that, she increased your moral debt with a lie. I mean, hell, what are the odds that she got on your Uber? That sounds suspicious in and of itself.
“Well, here we are. Let me assist you with your bags.”
And I got out, went to the trunk, put her bags on the curb, and left Adena standing there, her phone still open to the calendar app.
I find your stories amusing in general, but as someone who has worked in the service industry, I find especially story #2 above distasteful.
I worked in restaurants, in a different city on a different continent, but catering to international guests, generally holiday takers and cruise ship guests. We worked minimum wage, so tips were important to us.
We always hoped to snag a US table, the 15-20% is great. We hated Australians, where tipping is only for exceptional service because staff there are paid a living wage. Germans were great, Chinese not, English tended to precisely give 10%, and so on. Different cultures do not share the same tipping culture.
But it was my job, as a waiter in an upscale restaurant to give exactly equal service to every single table, regardless of the possibility - or not - of a tip. I would treat every table to the best service I could without expectation of a tip, and when one was forthcoming I was grateful.
Sure, Deepi made a promise he didn’t really intend to keep. And for that he is a dick. But the service industry is about getting paid for giving excellent service. Tips are a bonus.
Sorry. I don’t get paid for sitting there, I get paid to drive. I explained this in the letter. He made a contract with me and he refused to honor it.
I am an independent contractor. Not an employee. We made an agreement which went beyond the usual terms of service and he did not honor his end. So I made sure to collect.
And before you ask, yes, the Uber contract does allow me to make additional agreements with the passengers. This is how you used to see cars that sold snacks and stuff.
So I’m not an employee extorting a tip out of this man. Legally, I’m a business person who entered a contract and he did not honor his end.
I was in sales and I hate pushy salespeople. I’m a fan of the soft sell. If I pitch you, you wont even know it. You’ll just think we had a casual conversation, but in a day or two you’ll decide that I’d be a great fit for your project, and you’ll call me with your pitch.
And I hate people that don’t tip. I was in a restaurant with my family a few days ago, and after we left I realized there had been some confusion about who was tipping what and we had left a really crappy tip……so I went back to the restaurant the next day and gave the waiter $15.
Not to mention that I enjoy driving.