For some reason, when I'm driving my cab I always have a certain anxiety. I'm always worried that I will somehow take the wrong route and cost my customer too much and they will call me on it. These people are crazy and potentially violent. I go out of my way to take the short route to save them money and they get angry thinking I am cheating them.
Well, tonight I actually fucked up and went the absolute worst path. My customer didn't say anything, and at the end I gave her a $5 discount and apologized. Fortunately, while a lot of people are assholes, some people are just pussies. When I call them a pussy, I mean to say that they are a gigantic vagina...too afraid to stand up for themselves and say anything. I'm glad that these gigantic vaginas are walking around out there, it brings a certain balance to the universe, and that makes me happy.
...but the whole incident got me thinking. Why worry, what's the worst that could happen? The old words 'the only thing we have to fear is fear itself' repeated itself in my head. It's like a scary movie. The scariest movies are the ones when you never see the monster. No matter how good of special effects you have, there is a never a scarier monster than the one you can't see. Your imagination will create something scarier than could ever be shown on screen.
So maybe, to get over our fears and anxieties, we need to stick our head and look at the monster. For example, take public speaking. Most of our fear talking to a crowd, but really, what is the worst that could happen? Maybe we should all just royally fuck up one day. Seeing that things don't go that bad, we could relieve a lot of anxiety. The thing with public speaking though, is that it's hard to purposely screw up. You only look really bad when you look really nervous, when you show the world that anxiety has defeated you. If you go into a presentation not giving a fuck, you really can't look bad. Even if you 100% fail at accomplishing your objectives for the presentation, you still look too cool for school. You look better than everyone else because you don't give a fuck. People who don't give a fuck are cool....fucking cool.
...but I wasn't done philosophizing at this point.
There is some freeway construction going on in Saskatoon. One section of it is particularly retarded, and one of my customers pointed out that it most-assuredly to cause a drunk driver to drive down the wrong side of the street and cause an accident. While he said this, I began to recall the increase in major accidents on that road the last couple weeks, and saw that he was on to something....and my brain posed the question: Who is to blame?
On one hand, you have drunk drivers who are breaking laws and acting like retards. Surely, it doesn't matter what the road is designed like, they will have a chance of doing something and hurting someone or themself. On the other hand, you have someone who designed a road where these drunk drivers are surely to be more likely to get into an accident. Should this engineer be morally responsible for not making it a little more safe? Yes, they have made it safe by normal standards, and anyone driving legally should be fine....but we know these drunk drivers exist, Should be put soft padding on all the sharp edges of the world to account for that one stupid kid who always runs into stuff?
At the same time, is it irresponsible to account for these stupid children? In that way, we are acknowledging them and encouraging them by creating a world where they can run into more stuff.
This thought process never completed itself. Instead, some idiot drunk jumped into my cab, switched the radio and started fist-pumping like a madman all the way to the club.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Finding Balance
Tonight I didn't really want to work, but having been lazy the past couple weeks I decided to tough it out and actually earn some money. The city was surprisingly busy, so I did well. However, as the night wore on I found it harder and harder to continue, until it got to 2:00 AM, which is the busiest time of the night, but still 2 hours before I'm supposed to be done my shift. To go home at this point would be ludicrous, I've already worked 10 hours, what is another hour? It'll settle down in an hour then I can go home, and maybe pick up $50 in the process.
But I decided to count how much money I had already made anyway. $230. Earlier in the night I told myself I'd be good with $150 (well under my nightly average, but enough that it would make the night worthwhile)....but then I started thinking, what's the limit? I don't need the money, but my inner greed tells me that I should always have more. There is always a cost-benefit analysis going on as to whether that money is worth the effort....but I started thinking of it like future job opportunities. Maybe one day I'll get offered a really good paying job, but it will also come with a lot of responsibility and stress. Do I need it? Would I take it just because the money is worth the effort? Maybe I go through my whole life taking opportunities just for the value that I feel they create, and never really cash in on any of them.
I cashed in tonight, went home early. Any rational thought process says that's a stupid move...but I feel no regret. I had enough money and when you remove greed from the equation, the only rational move is to go home and get some sleep (or in my case, go on Facebook and write a blog). I just need enough. Any effort that I put it to get some more than that, regardless of how much I'm getting, is wasted effort in my opinion.
Funny thing though, when I parked my taxi some random guy at the taxi garage wouldn't let me go home because he needed a ride and the city was so busy that he would never get one for an hour or so later. A bad decision, I drove him home because it was on my way home, so I gave him a ride in my own car....a random. Turns out he was an ex-cabbie. He told me about how a girl was stabbed and killed in his car, and how 5 times in his life he had a knife pulled on him, and how many people he had to drive bloodied and dying to the hospital, and how many gang members he's had to deal with.
This job....it ain't worth it any more. I'm stuck because of the money, but I think it's time to grow a pair and quit....to stop letting money rule my life.
But I decided to count how much money I had already made anyway. $230. Earlier in the night I told myself I'd be good with $150 (well under my nightly average, but enough that it would make the night worthwhile)....but then I started thinking, what's the limit? I don't need the money, but my inner greed tells me that I should always have more. There is always a cost-benefit analysis going on as to whether that money is worth the effort....but I started thinking of it like future job opportunities. Maybe one day I'll get offered a really good paying job, but it will also come with a lot of responsibility and stress. Do I need it? Would I take it just because the money is worth the effort? Maybe I go through my whole life taking opportunities just for the value that I feel they create, and never really cash in on any of them.
I cashed in tonight, went home early. Any rational thought process says that's a stupid move...but I feel no regret. I had enough money and when you remove greed from the equation, the only rational move is to go home and get some sleep (or in my case, go on Facebook and write a blog). I just need enough. Any effort that I put it to get some more than that, regardless of how much I'm getting, is wasted effort in my opinion.
Funny thing though, when I parked my taxi some random guy at the taxi garage wouldn't let me go home because he needed a ride and the city was so busy that he would never get one for an hour or so later. A bad decision, I drove him home because it was on my way home, so I gave him a ride in my own car....a random. Turns out he was an ex-cabbie. He told me about how a girl was stabbed and killed in his car, and how 5 times in his life he had a knife pulled on him, and how many people he had to drive bloodied and dying to the hospital, and how many gang members he's had to deal with.
This job....it ain't worth it any more. I'm stuck because of the money, but I think it's time to grow a pair and quit....to stop letting money rule my life.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Interesting People
Sometimes it's just nice to sit back and take a peak into other people's lives. I feel conflicted on the issue though. On one hand, I work 12 hours in a row, and that can suck...getting some interesting people in my cab can certainly make things a little more entertaining. However, I find that the more interesting people are usually terrible human beings. If I graphed this relationship, it would probably be y=x...a direct relationship of interestingness to terribleness.
For example, a woman and child I picked up at 2:30 AM at Sobey's. While I'm driving there I am wondering to myself: 'where do you have to be in life to go grocery shopping at 2:30 in the morning'. Sure, there's a possibility of some drunks wandering there and not wanting to walk further, but I've picked up legitimate people there at this time before. It ended up being a woman and child, and I later found out the father was in prison for another 4 years. The woman talked about the father and how she never regretted any of it. She had very fun times in the good ole' 'young offenders' days (her words, not mine). The kid actually seemed to be intelligent, I felt that the two spoke on the same intellectual level....which was not overly high. Still, they seemed like nice people and I enjoyed my little glimpse into their life.
....and then there's another couple. As I drove up to the house they were, they were making out on the lawn. Me, being a professional, I'm ready to turn the music up and ignore them as they make out the whole way back....but instead the woman starts talking the entire way, barely stops to take a breath. The guy, he's not really enjoying this. I can hear by his occasional laughs that he's not really paying attention but trying to be nice. Every once in a while he goes to give her a kiss (yes, I am a creeper)....I can't quite tell if it's because he wants some action, or because he's just trying to shut her up for one short second.
A lot of people get into my cab, and after they leave I am often left with the question: 'what do you have to do to end up with a pathetic life like that?' I raise this point because some 'people' got into my cab. I don't know how to explain much more than that....they were just gross. I don't want to be superficial because I'm not the best looking guy myself, but those girls were at least 100 lbs. too big to be wearing short-shorts like that. The guy with him, he was worried about the price of the cab that was going about 5 blocks (maybe if they walked a little more those shorts wouldn't look so gross on them). The fare was $8 and he gave me a $10 and told me to keep the rest as a tip....but before he left he made sure that the fare was actually $8. I guess if it was $7.75 he would've wanted some change. How do you get to that point? Oh ya, and they spent the whole trying to smoke, swearing at me, changing the radio station, swearing at eachother, telling me they were going to offer 'services' for cab fare.
I'm glad the end of my night got me some interesting. That way, when I go home afterwards, I feel like a Champion and a great person just for maintaining some level of competence and respectability.
Good God Saskatoon.....you are getting grosser by the minute.
For example, a woman and child I picked up at 2:30 AM at Sobey's. While I'm driving there I am wondering to myself: 'where do you have to be in life to go grocery shopping at 2:30 in the morning'. Sure, there's a possibility of some drunks wandering there and not wanting to walk further, but I've picked up legitimate people there at this time before. It ended up being a woman and child, and I later found out the father was in prison for another 4 years. The woman talked about the father and how she never regretted any of it. She had very fun times in the good ole' 'young offenders' days (her words, not mine). The kid actually seemed to be intelligent, I felt that the two spoke on the same intellectual level....which was not overly high. Still, they seemed like nice people and I enjoyed my little glimpse into their life.
....and then there's another couple. As I drove up to the house they were, they were making out on the lawn. Me, being a professional, I'm ready to turn the music up and ignore them as they make out the whole way back....but instead the woman starts talking the entire way, barely stops to take a breath. The guy, he's not really enjoying this. I can hear by his occasional laughs that he's not really paying attention but trying to be nice. Every once in a while he goes to give her a kiss (yes, I am a creeper)....I can't quite tell if it's because he wants some action, or because he's just trying to shut her up for one short second.
A lot of people get into my cab, and after they leave I am often left with the question: 'what do you have to do to end up with a pathetic life like that?' I raise this point because some 'people' got into my cab. I don't know how to explain much more than that....they were just gross. I don't want to be superficial because I'm not the best looking guy myself, but those girls were at least 100 lbs. too big to be wearing short-shorts like that. The guy with him, he was worried about the price of the cab that was going about 5 blocks (maybe if they walked a little more those shorts wouldn't look so gross on them). The fare was $8 and he gave me a $10 and told me to keep the rest as a tip....but before he left he made sure that the fare was actually $8. I guess if it was $7.75 he would've wanted some change. How do you get to that point? Oh ya, and they spent the whole trying to smoke, swearing at me, changing the radio station, swearing at eachother, telling me they were going to offer 'services' for cab fare.
I'm glad the end of my night got me some interesting. That way, when I go home afterwards, I feel like a Champion and a great person just for maintaining some level of competence and respectability.
Good God Saskatoon.....you are getting grosser by the minute.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Just Not The Same
When I don't have any calls, I tend to hang out in the Sobey's parking lot at 8th and Cumberland. On Friday nights there is a group of old men who bring their motorcycles down and hang out there for a while. It's almost like a biker gang.....except that it's nothing like a biker gang. Sure, they have Harleys, and they wear leather jackets, and they have beards...but their beards are all well-trimmed. Bikers should have dirty, gross, out-of-control beards. It should be a requirement before they give you your bike license.
Bikers are supposed to be a symbol of freedom and rebellion. The old lady down the streets definitely does not approve of them, but they don't care. I feel like these well-groomed 'bikers' have the approval of the old lady down the street because she is most likely one of their wives.
I found myself in another parking lot tonight, and there was a group of young whippersnappers with their loud music and skateboards. I did not approve of their shenanigans, but I approved the disapproval that they brought upon themselves. Stay strong my brothers, stay strong......and then pull up your fuckin pants you hippies.
I was starting to feel shitty tonight, for a variety of reasons unrelated to the taxi cab profession, but that all changed when a young lady got into my cab. It was only a short trip, but at the end her debit card did not work and she did not have any cash. Me, being chill at every possible moment, just told her it was fine and she didn't have to pay. She treated this as being a real big favour on my part and was quite thankful....then I felt good for having done something good for someone else....and then all was good (for a few minutes anyway, until I got bored, started thinking of other stuff, and got depressed again).
There was a lot of asians in my cab tonight, which is quite odd. What was even more odd was how drunk and smelly they were. Usually the few asians that I do get are quite well-mannered and clean....but tonight they were falling over drunk, couldn't speak clearly (not that they are really do), and were smoking in my cab. Greasy asians! I did not expect this, and was not impressed. Asians, you need to clean up your act.
The rest of my evening was a boring combination of addicts, catfights, prostitute discussions, and honking my horn and random people.
Bikers are supposed to be a symbol of freedom and rebellion. The old lady down the streets definitely does not approve of them, but they don't care. I feel like these well-groomed 'bikers' have the approval of the old lady down the street because she is most likely one of their wives.
I found myself in another parking lot tonight, and there was a group of young whippersnappers with their loud music and skateboards. I did not approve of their shenanigans, but I approved the disapproval that they brought upon themselves. Stay strong my brothers, stay strong......and then pull up your fuckin pants you hippies.
I was starting to feel shitty tonight, for a variety of reasons unrelated to the taxi cab profession, but that all changed when a young lady got into my cab. It was only a short trip, but at the end her debit card did not work and she did not have any cash. Me, being chill at every possible moment, just told her it was fine and she didn't have to pay. She treated this as being a real big favour on my part and was quite thankful....then I felt good for having done something good for someone else....and then all was good (for a few minutes anyway, until I got bored, started thinking of other stuff, and got depressed again).
There was a lot of asians in my cab tonight, which is quite odd. What was even more odd was how drunk and smelly they were. Usually the few asians that I do get are quite well-mannered and clean....but tonight they were falling over drunk, couldn't speak clearly (not that they are really do), and were smoking in my cab. Greasy asians! I did not expect this, and was not impressed. Asians, you need to clean up your act.
The rest of my evening was a boring combination of addicts, catfights, prostitute discussions, and honking my horn and random people.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
My New Friends
Let me introduce you to some of the new friend I met this weekend:
- A lesbian who discussed classical music and Taxi Cab Confessional with me (and I thought she was trying to pick me up until I found out she was a lesbian)
- A metal rocker chick who thought I was latino
- Some random guy who couldn't shut the hell up about Pearl Jam and Maroon 5 (He seemed to be disappointed when I mentioned that I had wanted to see Arcade Fire in concert when they were here)
- A wedding party that thought Crazy Cactus was the height of fun and enjoyment in this city
- A guy who wore a tuxedo shirt to a wedding reception at a church
- The owner/manager of Finn's pub who gave me some mediocre coupons
- A 90 year old man of English descent who has been on 9 cruises in Alaska
- A group that claimed to be the band playing at Amigo's on Friday night
- A carpenter who claimed to have built the stage at Amigo's that said band played on
- Some bitch who criticized my navigation skills when I totally went the fastest and shortest route
- Some asshole who smelled of the MJ and changed my music (I invented a 10th circle of hell for people who change my music)
- A homeless man who looked like Little Richard
- A boyfriend who had me drive halfway across the city to pick up his 'idiot' girlfriend who decided she wanted to walk home from a bar in a miniskirt through one of the sketchiest areas of the city.
- A group from Scratch that looked homeless and had me track down their equally homeless-looking friend who was at that point wandering through a Tim Horton's parking lot across town (I secretly hoped we could have done a drive-by pick-up where we don't stop, open the door, and he jumps in as we pass him...alas, this did not happen)
I have judged all these people. When people ask me what my profession is, I should start telling them that I am a judge. You get into my cab, I judge you...I judge your drunkenness, I judge your stories, I judge your clothes....I judge you.
In the process of writing that I have noticed who silly the word 'judge' is...especially when you repeat it and use it as a verb.
- A lesbian who discussed classical music and Taxi Cab Confessional with me (and I thought she was trying to pick me up until I found out she was a lesbian)
- A metal rocker chick who thought I was latino
- Some random guy who couldn't shut the hell up about Pearl Jam and Maroon 5 (He seemed to be disappointed when I mentioned that I had wanted to see Arcade Fire in concert when they were here)
- A wedding party that thought Crazy Cactus was the height of fun and enjoyment in this city
- A guy who wore a tuxedo shirt to a wedding reception at a church
- The owner/manager of Finn's pub who gave me some mediocre coupons
- A 90 year old man of English descent who has been on 9 cruises in Alaska
- A group that claimed to be the band playing at Amigo's on Friday night
- A carpenter who claimed to have built the stage at Amigo's that said band played on
- Some bitch who criticized my navigation skills when I totally went the fastest and shortest route
- Some asshole who smelled of the MJ and changed my music (I invented a 10th circle of hell for people who change my music)
- A homeless man who looked like Little Richard
- A boyfriend who had me drive halfway across the city to pick up his 'idiot' girlfriend who decided she wanted to walk home from a bar in a miniskirt through one of the sketchiest areas of the city.
- A group from Scratch that looked homeless and had me track down their equally homeless-looking friend who was at that point wandering through a Tim Horton's parking lot across town (I secretly hoped we could have done a drive-by pick-up where we don't stop, open the door, and he jumps in as we pass him...alas, this did not happen)
I have judged all these people. When people ask me what my profession is, I should start telling them that I am a judge. You get into my cab, I judge you...I judge your drunkenness, I judge your stories, I judge your clothes....I judge you.
In the process of writing that I have noticed who silly the word 'judge' is...especially when you repeat it and use it as a verb.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
iPod Win
As the city slowly made its way home from the fireworks festival, the streets became ever more filled and job became ever more difficult to do with haste. As a result I arrived at one particular house at 10:55 which had called for a taxi at 10:45.
'We have a question...' the drunken girls said with a tone of displeasure, 'if we make an appointment for 10:45 and you are 10 minutes late, causing us to be late for our 11:00 deadline, does that mean we get a discount?'
I received the call for this job only 3 minutes prior, and made good time in getting there as quickly as I did. Giving a discount for this ride would be punishing only myself for the actions of the city being busy and these girls not giving themselves any room for error in their booking. Demanding a discount is the equivalent of being angry at the weather and kicking a nearby dog in rage. I understand their displeasure, but I have no part in this.
While they continued to rage in the backseat my iPod interfered with a song that just happened to be one of the lead ragers' favourites. Her rage was halted mid-sentence as she shifted gears. 'ooo...what song is this? Is this your music?'
Of course it's my music you crazy woman.
Seeing the opportunity, I immediately passed her my iPod to shut her up. She seemed quite pleased with my selections and took the opportunity to play The Temptations, Tokyo Police Club, Royksopp, and Tom Petty.
Her old rage was long gone by now and her drunken friends soon followed suit.
When we eventually got to the club, 3 minutes past their 11:00 deadline, I offered them a discount by saying they only had to pay $10 of the $16 that the meter demanded of them. They quickly objected with comments of 'best cab ride ever!' and paid about $15.
...and that my friends, is how my job goes from bad to good in a span of less than ten minutes.
'We have a question...' the drunken girls said with a tone of displeasure, 'if we make an appointment for 10:45 and you are 10 minutes late, causing us to be late for our 11:00 deadline, does that mean we get a discount?'
I received the call for this job only 3 minutes prior, and made good time in getting there as quickly as I did. Giving a discount for this ride would be punishing only myself for the actions of the city being busy and these girls not giving themselves any room for error in their booking. Demanding a discount is the equivalent of being angry at the weather and kicking a nearby dog in rage. I understand their displeasure, but I have no part in this.
While they continued to rage in the backseat my iPod interfered with a song that just happened to be one of the lead ragers' favourites. Her rage was halted mid-sentence as she shifted gears. 'ooo...what song is this? Is this your music?'
Of course it's my music you crazy woman.
Seeing the opportunity, I immediately passed her my iPod to shut her up. She seemed quite pleased with my selections and took the opportunity to play The Temptations, Tokyo Police Club, Royksopp, and Tom Petty.
Her old rage was long gone by now and her drunken friends soon followed suit.
When we eventually got to the club, 3 minutes past their 11:00 deadline, I offered them a discount by saying they only had to pay $10 of the $16 that the meter demanded of them. They quickly objected with comments of 'best cab ride ever!' and paid about $15.
...and that my friends, is how my job goes from bad to good in a span of less than ten minutes.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Hand-Me-Down Taxi
After 3 taxi-free months I am finally back behind the wheel...and unfortunately my time off meant I lost my old ride and now have a new vehicle (even though it's still the ten seven).
I don't like it. It's new, and technically better, but it's different. Me and old taxi, we were good pals. She wasn't perfect but I knew her faults and I accepted them. We were comfortable with each other. She was like a pair of old shoes. This new taxi is like a new pair of shoes. I haven't accepted them yet, they aren't mine. They're not even good shoes...they're all beat up and shitty. It's not a new pair of shoes at all! It's a pair of hand-me-down shoes from my older brother.
I want my old shoes back god-damn it!
I have the following complaints about my new taxi:
1. I can't listen to my music
2. The radio is where I rest my knee
3. The side door doesn't close properly
4. I can't listen to my music!
5. The gas gauge does not work and goes from full to empty to full every 5 minutes
6. the steering wheel has tape on it
7. I can't listen to my music!!!
8. I have to adjust the seat manually instead of my old electric one
9. I Can't
10. Listen To
11. MY MUSIC!!!!!!
Okay, that said, I can listen to my music. However, I need my FM transmitter which only lasts 5-6 hours whereas my cables in the old taxi lasted all night long. Allll Night Looooooong.
In addition to all this: I drove a drunk lady who I had a marketing call with AIESEC. I was accused of smoking in my cab by some very drunk, angry ladies. I watched the pretty fireworks (which really weren't that great). At one point, they had 3 of 4 bridges in the city closed.
I have decided that I no longer wish to be called a taxi driver. That's kind of a shitty job to have. Instead, I'll refer to myself as a taxi pilot. Pilots are cool. I'll also add a 'Dr.' to my title because I have a PHd in driving your drunk-ass home. I could also throw a 'Cpt.' in front of that because I'm a captain of the evening roads.
Cpt. Dr. Carson Widynowski - Taxi Pilot
....I want business cards.
I don't like it. It's new, and technically better, but it's different. Me and old taxi, we were good pals. She wasn't perfect but I knew her faults and I accepted them. We were comfortable with each other. She was like a pair of old shoes. This new taxi is like a new pair of shoes. I haven't accepted them yet, they aren't mine. They're not even good shoes...they're all beat up and shitty. It's not a new pair of shoes at all! It's a pair of hand-me-down shoes from my older brother.
I want my old shoes back god-damn it!
I have the following complaints about my new taxi:
1. I can't listen to my music
2. The radio is where I rest my knee
3. The side door doesn't close properly
4. I can't listen to my music!
5. The gas gauge does not work and goes from full to empty to full every 5 minutes
6. the steering wheel has tape on it
7. I can't listen to my music!!!
8. I have to adjust the seat manually instead of my old electric one
9. I Can't
10. Listen To
11. MY MUSIC!!!!!!
Okay, that said, I can listen to my music. However, I need my FM transmitter which only lasts 5-6 hours whereas my cables in the old taxi lasted all night long. Allll Night Looooooong.
In addition to all this: I drove a drunk lady who I had a marketing call with AIESEC. I was accused of smoking in my cab by some very drunk, angry ladies. I watched the pretty fireworks (which really weren't that great). At one point, they had 3 of 4 bridges in the city closed.
I have decided that I no longer wish to be called a taxi driver. That's kind of a shitty job to have. Instead, I'll refer to myself as a taxi pilot. Pilots are cool. I'll also add a 'Dr.' to my title because I have a PHd in driving your drunk-ass home. I could also throw a 'Cpt.' in front of that because I'm a captain of the evening roads.
Cpt. Dr. Carson Widynowski - Taxi Pilot
....I want business cards.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Hookers
I'd like to take a minute here to talk about my fellow night workers, the prostitutes of Saskatoon.
I want to start off by saying that from a business perspective the prostitute industry is quite fascinating. Hookers, at least in Saskatoon, do not dress like hookers you see in movies. They do not approach you. They do not dress slutty, and they are not aggressive. They don't really advertise themselves in any way. For the last four years, I've been learning about businesses and how to create awareness of your product, of your brand, of your image...and here's an industry doing the opposite. Just interesting I suppose...
With all this secrecy, it's extraordinary to note how everybody still knows what the prostitution situation is in the city. A few months back, most of the hookers in Saskatoon moved from 20th street to 19th street....and almost everyone in the city knew about it. It was the topic of conversation in my cab, common knowledge that the hookers had moved. This information is only so good though. While people still talk about the hookers being on 19th street, their move actually only lasted a couple weeks. After that, they moved back to their regular spots on 20th street.
Some more information about hookers:
1) they usually don't work that late. After midnight you don't see that many out on the corners.
2) real hookers dress in sweatpants and hoodies, and don't advertise themselves
3) real hookers stand on corners west of the traintracks (between Ave L and Ave J)
4) police sting hookers stand on corners east of the traintracks, and they advertise. If you see a 'hooker' advertising themselves flamboyantly near the top of the alphabet, drive around the corner, there will be a cop car with all its lights turned out.
5) the officer who poses as a hooker is short with blond, spiky hair. Occasionally a brown-haired native officer poses as the hooker, she is more convincing...but the blond is more aggressive.
Due to conversations in my cab I've learned the following about hookers:
-if you bring 'the stuff', you get a discount
-business is conducted at the hooker's place
-hookers with kids ask for a few extra bucks to send their kids to the store and get them out of the house
-the best hookers are around Ave N, the more west you get from that, the worse they are.
I feel no reason to justify myself as to why I know all this. Hookers are an attraction of this city, if I'm driving people who don't live here and we go down 20th street I make a note of pointing it out. People are interested in the hooker situation....that's just the way things are. Think about it, when you saw this blog title, were you indifferent? Or were you interested in reading about hookers? Maybe it's just because it's still so taboo and yet still so very visible and a part of our society.
I'd like to end off by saying 'No', despite the suggestion I received tonight, I do not plan on befriending hookers in order to attain a discount.
I hope this was informative.
I want to start off by saying that from a business perspective the prostitute industry is quite fascinating. Hookers, at least in Saskatoon, do not dress like hookers you see in movies. They do not approach you. They do not dress slutty, and they are not aggressive. They don't really advertise themselves in any way. For the last four years, I've been learning about businesses and how to create awareness of your product, of your brand, of your image...and here's an industry doing the opposite. Just interesting I suppose...
With all this secrecy, it's extraordinary to note how everybody still knows what the prostitution situation is in the city. A few months back, most of the hookers in Saskatoon moved from 20th street to 19th street....and almost everyone in the city knew about it. It was the topic of conversation in my cab, common knowledge that the hookers had moved. This information is only so good though. While people still talk about the hookers being on 19th street, their move actually only lasted a couple weeks. After that, they moved back to their regular spots on 20th street.
Some more information about hookers:
1) they usually don't work that late. After midnight you don't see that many out on the corners.
2) real hookers dress in sweatpants and hoodies, and don't advertise themselves
3) real hookers stand on corners west of the traintracks (between Ave L and Ave J)
4) police sting hookers stand on corners east of the traintracks, and they advertise. If you see a 'hooker' advertising themselves flamboyantly near the top of the alphabet, drive around the corner, there will be a cop car with all its lights turned out.
5) the officer who poses as a hooker is short with blond, spiky hair. Occasionally a brown-haired native officer poses as the hooker, she is more convincing...but the blond is more aggressive.
Due to conversations in my cab I've learned the following about hookers:
-if you bring 'the stuff', you get a discount
-business is conducted at the hooker's place
-hookers with kids ask for a few extra bucks to send their kids to the store and get them out of the house
-the best hookers are around Ave N, the more west you get from that, the worse they are.
I feel no reason to justify myself as to why I know all this. Hookers are an attraction of this city, if I'm driving people who don't live here and we go down 20th street I make a note of pointing it out. People are interested in the hooker situation....that's just the way things are. Think about it, when you saw this blog title, were you indifferent? Or were you interested in reading about hookers? Maybe it's just because it's still so taboo and yet still so very visible and a part of our society.
I'd like to end off by saying 'No', despite the suggestion I received tonight, I do not plan on befriending hookers in order to attain a discount.
I hope this was informative.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Blame The Devil Rabbit
I justify what happened tonight by the following excuses:
1. He was probably speeding
2. Technically, he hit me
3. Stonebridge is stupid
4. It's the rabbit's fault
If I had taken the night off last night....I would have broken even, a man on a motorcycle would have driven down Hartley Road, an average drive home, and I probably would have stayed in watching movies in my underwear.
Instead...
I sat parked at an intersection in Stonebridge, where I would usually turn left and head away from this treacherous neighbourhood, where I have had more problem customers than in the alphabet jungle and Sutherland combined. However, fate had other plans (cue dramatic music). Out of the corner of my eye I saw a jackrabbit running down the sidewalk to the right. As it was a slow evening I decided to pursue the rabbit. It wasn't long before my pursuit proved fruitless and the rabbit hopped off into a nearby backyard. I drove for a few more blocks and decided the filth of Stonebridge was no longer worthy of my presence. With no traffic in sight I weaved right into an avenue with the intention of buying room to make a leftward u-turn. I check my rearview mirror one more time, weaved left, an-OH MY GOD THERE"S A MOTORCYCLE!
Screech!
Thunk!
...and a man on a motorcycle rolls on down the road.
I immediately ran off after him. After cursing me out for a few minutes he said that he didn't need an ambulance but that I should call the cops. A few minutes later his friends showed up, and then a few minutes after that the cops showed up. After figuring out he was okay, my thoughts began to turn other implications this might have. Do I still have my license (already a few points off)? Do I still have a job? Can I still afford to go to Ukraine this summer? I had never been in this situation so I wasn't sure what to expect. I was also feeling generally terrible and almost freaking out.
Fortunately, everything after this went smoothly. Despite a couple scratches the driver of the motorcycle was okay. He shook my hand and said there were no hard feelings about this. The cop was really good about it all and convinced his sergeant that what I did was not reckless driving and instead was just an improper lane change. This reduced my fine from $280 to $125 and only one point off my license instead of three. With the money I 'saved' I offered to buy them a couple 40s but they declined, shrugged their shoulders, and said: 'shit happens'.
So in the end it all worked out. With the time I missed and a $125 fine in pocket, I ended up losing $30 on the night....but that's only $3 an hour when you think of it....that I paid in order to have the privilege of driving drunk assholes around.
Could have been a lot worse....
In other news, I have a BlackBerry, which means I have unlimited internet while I'm driving.....which means Twitter.
@CarsonWid (<-------tweets posted on left-hand side of blog)
...still getting used to it, will post random updates about customers and will use the blog for ranting.
1. He was probably speeding
2. Technically, he hit me
3. Stonebridge is stupid
4. It's the rabbit's fault
If I had taken the night off last night....I would have broken even, a man on a motorcycle would have driven down Hartley Road, an average drive home, and I probably would have stayed in watching movies in my underwear.
Instead...
I sat parked at an intersection in Stonebridge, where I would usually turn left and head away from this treacherous neighbourhood, where I have had more problem customers than in the alphabet jungle and Sutherland combined. However, fate had other plans (cue dramatic music). Out of the corner of my eye I saw a jackrabbit running down the sidewalk to the right. As it was a slow evening I decided to pursue the rabbit. It wasn't long before my pursuit proved fruitless and the rabbit hopped off into a nearby backyard. I drove for a few more blocks and decided the filth of Stonebridge was no longer worthy of my presence. With no traffic in sight I weaved right into an avenue with the intention of buying room to make a leftward u-turn. I check my rearview mirror one more time, weaved left, an-OH MY GOD THERE"S A MOTORCYCLE!
Screech!
Thunk!
...and a man on a motorcycle rolls on down the road.
I immediately ran off after him. After cursing me out for a few minutes he said that he didn't need an ambulance but that I should call the cops. A few minutes later his friends showed up, and then a few minutes after that the cops showed up. After figuring out he was okay, my thoughts began to turn other implications this might have. Do I still have my license (already a few points off)? Do I still have a job? Can I still afford to go to Ukraine this summer? I had never been in this situation so I wasn't sure what to expect. I was also feeling generally terrible and almost freaking out.
Fortunately, everything after this went smoothly. Despite a couple scratches the driver of the motorcycle was okay. He shook my hand and said there were no hard feelings about this. The cop was really good about it all and convinced his sergeant that what I did was not reckless driving and instead was just an improper lane change. This reduced my fine from $280 to $125 and only one point off my license instead of three. With the money I 'saved' I offered to buy them a couple 40s but they declined, shrugged their shoulders, and said: 'shit happens'.
So in the end it all worked out. With the time I missed and a $125 fine in pocket, I ended up losing $30 on the night....but that's only $3 an hour when you think of it....that I paid in order to have the privilege of driving drunk assholes around.
Could have been a lot worse....
In other news, I have a BlackBerry, which means I have unlimited internet while I'm driving.....which means Twitter.
@CarsonWid (<-------tweets posted on left-hand side of blog)
...still getting used to it, will post random updates about customers and will use the blog for ranting.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
....A Fucking Stalion
Where to begin...
One lady asked me to drop her off on the outskirts of town because she was going to hitchhike the 5 hour drive to see her daughter. Her daughter didn't want her to come but dammit she was coming anyway. She was either high on drugs or possibly retarded, I couldn't quite tell. We had an in-depth conversation about what it meant to be family. Usually during these conversations I just nod my head and say 'definitely'. She wanted me to drop on the very outskirts of town but I elected to drop her at the gas station, mainly because if she wandered off into a field and died it can't really come back to haunt me. I didn't drop her in a field, if she's there it's her own doing. I dropped her at the gas station.
While walking back to my cab after knocking at a door, one cougar said I had a cute shirt, and a cute ass. I got a $7 tip out of that fare.
One guy got into my cab at Outlaws and said: 'You look sharp, you're a fucking stalion!'. While I took this as a complement I found it weird that he called me a stalion about 7 more times on the ride home. He wasn't hitting on me or anything, but his girlfriend was in the backseat and he kept saying how much he loved her...but he kept calling me a stalion. He asked my name and I told him I was Daniel.
9 people in the cab on the way to a foam party....ho-hum.
One of my regulars, Ward, called me as he usually does and I drove him to the west side. He called me later that evening to come pick him up. When I got there he was a wooden fist tucked into his pants and was missing a shoe. I later learned that he lost one of his shoes and suspected it was stolen. In anger, he stole a sculture of a wooden fist as revenge. He didn't plan on holding it as hostage to get his shoe, he just stole it:
On the ride home he rolled down his window and held the fist out yelling 'black power!' at bystanders who wanted a cab. At one point a hot chick wanted the cab so he opened the side door (cab hasn't stopped at this point) and told her they could go back to her place. She jumped in, jumped out, and then took another cab with her friends. The side door remained open for about 3 blocks before Ward shut it (without leaving the front seat, and without the cab stopping). It's pretty much suicide to stop my cab on Broadway at 3 AM. 10 people would jump in if I did, all trying to go to different places.
Eventually I got Ward home.
Later in the evening I picked 3 ladies who had an interesting story about their last cab driver. Apparently they were stil getting into the cab when the cabbie peeled away with one girl half in the cab and the doors not shut. They driver got super-pissed and physically threw them out of the cab (literally, picked one girl up and threw her out). They told me they suspected he was on drugs, I told them they were probably right. These were probably my nicest customers of the evening though, we talked about many things including why I was a cab driver, having kids, school, and....
I don't know how we got on the subject, but they ended up telling me a story about someone they knew in McNab Park. They didn't want to go to their house because they found out the cat had been raped and they didn't know who did it. WTF! The cat......got raped.....
My next customers were embarrassed because they were telling a story about her boyfriend who had to start jerking himself to get started during sex. They said it was probably a crazy story and they were sorry I had to listen to it. My response was: 'Hey, my last customer told me a story about a cat getting raped...compared to that your story is tame'. They freaked out.
One lady asked me to drop her off on the outskirts of town because she was going to hitchhike the 5 hour drive to see her daughter. Her daughter didn't want her to come but dammit she was coming anyway. She was either high on drugs or possibly retarded, I couldn't quite tell. We had an in-depth conversation about what it meant to be family. Usually during these conversations I just nod my head and say 'definitely'. She wanted me to drop on the very outskirts of town but I elected to drop her at the gas station, mainly because if she wandered off into a field and died it can't really come back to haunt me. I didn't drop her in a field, if she's there it's her own doing. I dropped her at the gas station.
While walking back to my cab after knocking at a door, one cougar said I had a cute shirt, and a cute ass. I got a $7 tip out of that fare.
One guy got into my cab at Outlaws and said: 'You look sharp, you're a fucking stalion!'. While I took this as a complement I found it weird that he called me a stalion about 7 more times on the ride home. He wasn't hitting on me or anything, but his girlfriend was in the backseat and he kept saying how much he loved her...but he kept calling me a stalion. He asked my name and I told him I was Daniel.
9 people in the cab on the way to a foam party....ho-hum.
One of my regulars, Ward, called me as he usually does and I drove him to the west side. He called me later that evening to come pick him up. When I got there he was a wooden fist tucked into his pants and was missing a shoe. I later learned that he lost one of his shoes and suspected it was stolen. In anger, he stole a sculture of a wooden fist as revenge. He didn't plan on holding it as hostage to get his shoe, he just stole it:
On the ride home he rolled down his window and held the fist out yelling 'black power!' at bystanders who wanted a cab. At one point a hot chick wanted the cab so he opened the side door (cab hasn't stopped at this point) and told her they could go back to her place. She jumped in, jumped out, and then took another cab with her friends. The side door remained open for about 3 blocks before Ward shut it (without leaving the front seat, and without the cab stopping). It's pretty much suicide to stop my cab on Broadway at 3 AM. 10 people would jump in if I did, all trying to go to different places.
Eventually I got Ward home.
Later in the evening I picked 3 ladies who had an interesting story about their last cab driver. Apparently they were stil getting into the cab when the cabbie peeled away with one girl half in the cab and the doors not shut. They driver got super-pissed and physically threw them out of the cab (literally, picked one girl up and threw her out). They told me they suspected he was on drugs, I told them they were probably right. These were probably my nicest customers of the evening though, we talked about many things including why I was a cab driver, having kids, school, and....
I don't know how we got on the subject, but they ended up telling me a story about someone they knew in McNab Park. They didn't want to go to their house because they found out the cat had been raped and they didn't know who did it. WTF! The cat......got raped.....
My next customers were embarrassed because they were telling a story about her boyfriend who had to start jerking himself to get started during sex. They said it was probably a crazy story and they were sorry I had to listen to it. My response was: 'Hey, my last customer told me a story about a cat getting raped...compared to that your story is tame'. They freaked out.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Now With Pictures...
With the winter season finally drawing to a close and students staying in and studying for finals, my evenings have begun to slow down quite bit. This means that I have to find new ways to entertain myself and pass the time. This weekend brought two new activities. The first is that I bought cables for my iPod so that I can watch TV shows and movies on the screen in the backseat. The cables also mean that I don't have to bring my book of CDs which means I now have room to stash a camera in my utility box (for lack of a better term). Therefore, I will now be able to capture random night moments around the city. There are many of these, but unfortunately I've already run into two problems. 1) I'm driving customers and can't stop for a lot of the best moments, plus they happen too quick (like a drunk driver driving hitting the meridian and destroying their front end yesterday - everyone was okay and the cops were nearby) and 2) I suck at taking pictures. So, there won't be that many good pictures, but hopefully I'll get a few decent ones.
I drove a geeky stag party which was kinda funny. While driving by the University one guy proposed that we stop so they could go to the Cove and play video games while drunk....the bachelor seconded that proposal but we continued on to Jax's anyway (going to Jax's is a pretty good sign that they don't go out to bars much). He had a booby hat, I squeezed the booby upon request.
Not many other interesting people this weekend, just random conversations about music, drugs, prefererance of women by race, drunk guys who cant have sex, business opportunities, and the effects of someone slipping drugs into your drink while at the bar.
I did see Sailor Dan wearing a Sombrero tonight. Tried to get a picture but each time I saw him I had a customer in the car. Didn't see whether his drawing were still ships or if he learned how to draw something Mexican-related.
Here is my first picture of night-time shenanigans:
I may have had some involvement in this.
I'm also seeking recommendations on what do with new movie-playing and picture-taking abilities. I mean, what would do if after a long night of drinking and dancing you got into a cab and an episode of Dora the Explorer was playing?
I drove a geeky stag party which was kinda funny. While driving by the University one guy proposed that we stop so they could go to the Cove and play video games while drunk....the bachelor seconded that proposal but we continued on to Jax's anyway (going to Jax's is a pretty good sign that they don't go out to bars much). He had a booby hat, I squeezed the booby upon request.
Not many other interesting people this weekend, just random conversations about music, drugs, prefererance of women by race, drunk guys who cant have sex, business opportunities, and the effects of someone slipping drugs into your drink while at the bar.
I did see Sailor Dan wearing a Sombrero tonight. Tried to get a picture but each time I saw him I had a customer in the car. Didn't see whether his drawing were still ships or if he learned how to draw something Mexican-related.
Here is my first picture of night-time shenanigans:
I may have had some involvement in this.
I'm also seeking recommendations on what do with new movie-playing and picture-taking abilities. I mean, what would do if after a long night of drinking and dancing you got into a cab and an episode of Dora the Explorer was playing?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Forgot One...
My last entry talked about my regulars and I was reminded that I forgot to mention one important regular. With his partner-in-crime, Jim Jam, he is one of the few that can recognize a Hawksley Workman song and his dedication to the drinking scene can be shown by the fact that he has never called for a ride earlier than last call. He simply goes by the name:
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Not-So-Temporary Friendships
AKA....my regulars. I refer to my fares as my temporary friendships. These ones last a little longer than the others.
The Red-Headed Racist Brothers
I've mentioned these brothers in this blog before. They don't actually know me or have my number but they take a cab often enough, and live in my turf, that I get calls to their house quite often. It's always the same trip. To the grocery shop, to the offsale, and the back home. They never take a cab together either, always just one of them. This short trip is always filled with racist and otherwise dark humour. It's offensive, but it's also funny as hell. They also tip well, mainly because I'm white.
Professor Sweatpants
I'm not quite sure why I call him 'Professor'. If I took a class and he was my professor, I'd probably ask for my money back. I've had some decent conversations with him surrounding music, but he doesn't strike me as a particularly smart person. The 'sweatpants' part comes in because he wore sweatpants to a jazz club once, and you can never really forgive a man for that. I don't drive him that often, but enough to know him and know its him before I even arrive at the house I've been called to.
Margaret
Me and Margaret did not meet on the best of terms. She's an old lady who looks like she always has her eyes shut and is chewing on something. She has an account and never tips, not even a penny. My first trip with her, she forgot her keys and made me go to three of her neighbours' houses to see if they had her spare key. Why the entire neighbourhood has a spare key to her house, I'm not sure, but she was in a bad mood and did not appreciate the effort and patience I was putting into the situation. Since then, we've had some nice conversations surrounding the weather, and I recently discovered she's an avid NDP supporter. I'm supposed to avoid talking politics with customers, but we had a friendly conversation surrounding the leader debate.
Music Man Ward
My newest regular, we only met a couple weeks ago. My Black Keys CD sparked a long conversation surrounding music and similar bands. It was a long conversation because we had to make multiple stops to get the first season of Lost. I shut the meter off when we stopped on the first trip and gave him a dollar discount on the second trip because I didn't want to deal with change and he seems like a good guy. We have exchanged many band recommendatiosns which I always appreciate in a fare.
Kelsey 'n Friends
Are they the same friends? Are they different? I'm never quite sure but I've never asked. Since she actually reads this blog I'm sure I'll find out next time she calls. These trips are often characterized by McDonalds drive-thru, getting locked out of the house, questions about why she hasn't been mentioned in the blog, and slight overpayment on the fare (which I'll just tally up as a good tip for me being awesome)
Semi-Regulars
Some people don't count as actual regulars, but I've driven them a few times so I recognize them:
-two cute asian girls who live on Main Street and never speak english
-old lady who works at United Way, gets driven home from Safeway, and gives me life advice
-guy and two girls who live near 4th and Clarence
-this one house in Stonebridge: never the same people, but the destinatination is always the same
And all of this is on top of my regulars who I actually know outside of taxi-related situations.
Random Moments of the Night
Two pylons were in the middle of the street marking off the area surrounding a dead cat...like a little crime scene, which was both cute and sad.
Customer disagreed that he should pay the fare. I disagreed with that. We had an argument. I got punched in the face. There was blood. I got my money.
The Red-Headed Racist Brothers
I've mentioned these brothers in this blog before. They don't actually know me or have my number but they take a cab often enough, and live in my turf, that I get calls to their house quite often. It's always the same trip. To the grocery shop, to the offsale, and the back home. They never take a cab together either, always just one of them. This short trip is always filled with racist and otherwise dark humour. It's offensive, but it's also funny as hell. They also tip well, mainly because I'm white.
Professor Sweatpants
I'm not quite sure why I call him 'Professor'. If I took a class and he was my professor, I'd probably ask for my money back. I've had some decent conversations with him surrounding music, but he doesn't strike me as a particularly smart person. The 'sweatpants' part comes in because he wore sweatpants to a jazz club once, and you can never really forgive a man for that. I don't drive him that often, but enough to know him and know its him before I even arrive at the house I've been called to.
Margaret
Me and Margaret did not meet on the best of terms. She's an old lady who looks like she always has her eyes shut and is chewing on something. She has an account and never tips, not even a penny. My first trip with her, she forgot her keys and made me go to three of her neighbours' houses to see if they had her spare key. Why the entire neighbourhood has a spare key to her house, I'm not sure, but she was in a bad mood and did not appreciate the effort and patience I was putting into the situation. Since then, we've had some nice conversations surrounding the weather, and I recently discovered she's an avid NDP supporter. I'm supposed to avoid talking politics with customers, but we had a friendly conversation surrounding the leader debate.
Music Man Ward
My newest regular, we only met a couple weeks ago. My Black Keys CD sparked a long conversation surrounding music and similar bands. It was a long conversation because we had to make multiple stops to get the first season of Lost. I shut the meter off when we stopped on the first trip and gave him a dollar discount on the second trip because I didn't want to deal with change and he seems like a good guy. We have exchanged many band recommendatiosns which I always appreciate in a fare.
Kelsey 'n Friends
Are they the same friends? Are they different? I'm never quite sure but I've never asked. Since she actually reads this blog I'm sure I'll find out next time she calls. These trips are often characterized by McDonalds drive-thru, getting locked out of the house, questions about why she hasn't been mentioned in the blog, and slight overpayment on the fare (which I'll just tally up as a good tip for me being awesome)
Semi-Regulars
Some people don't count as actual regulars, but I've driven them a few times so I recognize them:
-two cute asian girls who live on Main Street and never speak english
-old lady who works at United Way, gets driven home from Safeway, and gives me life advice
-guy and two girls who live near 4th and Clarence
-this one house in Stonebridge: never the same people, but the destinatination is always the same
And all of this is on top of my regulars who I actually know outside of taxi-related situations.
Random Moments of the Night
Two pylons were in the middle of the street marking off the area surrounding a dead cat...like a little crime scene, which was both cute and sad.
Customer disagreed that he should pay the fare. I disagreed with that. We had an argument. I got punched in the face. There was blood. I got my money.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Introducing: Bigfoot
There is a homeless man that I've seen quite a few times now. He doesn't come out at night, I only see him at the beginning of my shifts, walking around downtown. He is a large hairy man, with long hair and a long beard. His jeans are tucked into socks, and his belt is a yellow rope. He walks quite slowly, resembling the famous bigfoot video from years back. Thus, he is now know known as Bigfoot.
In other hobo news, I saw Sailor Dan this weekend for the first time without his hat and drawings. Dan is by far my most frequently sighted hobo and before Bigfoot had been the only one I could give a name to. Dan seems to quite enjoy Beily's these days, mostly for the offsale that he goes to right after selling one of his drawings.
If you feel bad for thinking about Hobo Fights right now, don't...because unfortunately I did too. Well, okay, maybe we should both feel bad. Nevertheless, I'd put money on Dan. Bigfoot is a much bigger man but I've never seen him move with any kind of speed, nor do I believe that he knows what's going on around him. I believe Bigfoot to be a gentle man. Sailer Dan, on the other hand, seems like he has some anger to him. Oh, he maintains that friendly hobo image, but I think most of that can be attributed to the hat.
In other hobo news, I saw Sailor Dan this weekend for the first time without his hat and drawings. Dan is by far my most frequently sighted hobo and before Bigfoot had been the only one I could give a name to. Dan seems to quite enjoy Beily's these days, mostly for the offsale that he goes to right after selling one of his drawings.
If you feel bad for thinking about Hobo Fights right now, don't...because unfortunately I did too. Well, okay, maybe we should both feel bad. Nevertheless, I'd put money on Dan. Bigfoot is a much bigger man but I've never seen him move with any kind of speed, nor do I believe that he knows what's going on around him. I believe Bigfoot to be a gentle man. Sailer Dan, on the other hand, seems like he has some anger to him. Oh, he maintains that friendly hobo image, but I think most of that can be attributed to the hat.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Let's Judge People - Part One
As a cabbie I get to meet a wide variety of people, and because these people are all different they all want something different in their taxi cab experience. For some people, they want me to talk and be friendly, but for others they simply want to get to their destination and they just a professional driver-passenger relationship. For some, they want me to get where we're going as fast as possible, while others just want to get there eventually with a comfortable ride. If I only had one style I would piss off many customers, so it's a big part of my to judge people very quickly andf decide how to act.
Before I start though, I'd like to talk about my autopilot feature. Sure, I know that sometimes I should be more talkative, but when you work 12 hour shifts, you just go into autopilot mode. Technically, me eyes are looking at the road, paying attention to traffic lights and other cars....but really, I'm not paying attention at all. My autopilot is very good, I never get into accidents, I avoid all potholes, I don't unintentionally break traffic laws. It surprises me though, because I'm in my own world thinking about something else, and yet somehow I can still operate a vehicle and navigate my way through the city. Much of my shift consists of me on some tangent of a thought process. People ask me why I look so serious and angry. I tell them it's the third line of my contract, but I only say that because I don't want to tell them that I'm not paying attention and I'm drifting off into la-la land. Autopilot...it's a beauty.
Ok, back to judging people:
Backseat vs. Frontseat
One of the biggest indicators of a person's personality is where they sit, especially if they are alone in the cab. Most people sit in the front, but if someone sits in the back by themselves, it's pretty clear that they want to be left alone. They might try to engage in small talk to avoid awkwardness, but these conversations never go anywhere. Most of the ride is spent in silence. These people are usually business people, going to/from the airport, or are residents of the suburbs of the city.
People who sit in the frontseat are usually a lot more personable and want to have a conversation, but not all. I can usually tell by the first few lines of dialogue if this person actually wants to talk. If they talk about the weather or some other bullshit like that, the conversation usually dies. If it's super awkward one of us will usually try to say something, but it never really goes anywhere. These people are usually ones who sit in the front seat to be polite. In Kenya, it's impolite to not sit in the front seat and talk with the driver (I learned this from an international student who was in my cab).
On that note, there are the couples that have one in the front seat and one in the back seat. This is kinda hard to read because I'm wondering whether a)someone is sitting in the frontseat to be polite, like mentioned above or b)they're fighting. However, this is how it usually goes. If the guy is the front seat, they are usually fighting. If the girl in the front seat, she is being polite. If the front seat passenger actually talks to me, then it is usually a good ride. If they don't say anything, the ride usually remains in awkward silence.
On the topic of awkward silence, I'd like to mention that although I usually acknowledge the awkwardness, I never really do anything about it. As I said, I'm in autopilot and usually thinking about something else. However, nothing is more awkward than when I get 4-5 people in the cab and none of them are talking. I mean, c'mon, you guys are going to a club and you're all packed into a cab. Talk please.
Finishing off the backseat vs. frontseat conversation, we have the very personable people, people who really want/need me to talk to them. There is no awkwardness here and this is usually where my temporary friendships of the evening come from. These people are most often from the poorer areas of the city. West-side etiquette dictates that people should sit in the front and talk to the driver. Some of these people are sketchy as hell, but they are all usually pretty friendly...unless they judge me as unfriendly, which does happen.
Skipping Out On The Fare
One of the biggest reasons why I need to judge people is to decide whether or not they will skip out on me. This doesn't happen often, but I'm starting to pick up on the signs:
1. Usually a single person, and in my experiences always male.
2. Friendly. They will always engage in conversation to lighten the mood.
3. Happy. People who are unhappy about paying the fare actually intend on paying the fare. If they didn't intend on paying, they wouldn't be so pissed.
4. Vague directions. Someone skipping out doesn't want you to know where the live. So, they tell you to go to an area of the city and they'll direct you from there.
5. Front seat. The back doors have child locks, if you want to skip you need to be in the front.
6. Short trip to Tim's/McDs. Always beware the customers who wants to pay $5 to go 2 blocks to get food. They probably won't pay.
So, when I see these indicators, here's what I do: I take off my glasses, I turn the headlights off, and as we roll to a stop I open my door just a crack. If they wanna run, I'm ready to go. I don't care if it's only a few bucks, chasing people down is fun. I'm ready to turn off the engine, lock the doors, and chase that motherfucker down.
Here are some tips if you're wanting to skip out:
1. Give your end destination as somewhere further than your house, but with your house on the way.
2. When you get near to your place, ask to stop for a second a 7/11, and that you'll be right back. If no one stores are near, say you need to pick up a friend at their house.
3. Live on the east side. If you say you wanna go to the west side, the cabbie will probably tell you to pay upfront.
4. Run. Don't treat me like some PoS that will let you walk away. Respect...please.
5. Talk about how shitty your day was. It will make me want to be quick to drop you off, and maybe not care about tracking you down.
6. Run fast. Don't let the cabbie run faster than you. These people have massive amounts of built-up frustration and are looking for someone to take it out on. The police won't come to their rescue when someone skips out, and the police won't come to your rescue if the cabbie catches you.
Fun fact. Everyone who has skipped out on me has lived in Sutherland and has worn a baseball cap.
This whole judging thing has taken longer than I expected it to. I'm going to call this Part One and continue this at a later date. There is a no shortage of judging going on in my cab, I will have more blogs about this in the future.
Before I start though, I'd like to talk about my autopilot feature. Sure, I know that sometimes I should be more talkative, but when you work 12 hour shifts, you just go into autopilot mode. Technically, me eyes are looking at the road, paying attention to traffic lights and other cars....but really, I'm not paying attention at all. My autopilot is very good, I never get into accidents, I avoid all potholes, I don't unintentionally break traffic laws. It surprises me though, because I'm in my own world thinking about something else, and yet somehow I can still operate a vehicle and navigate my way through the city. Much of my shift consists of me on some tangent of a thought process. People ask me why I look so serious and angry. I tell them it's the third line of my contract, but I only say that because I don't want to tell them that I'm not paying attention and I'm drifting off into la-la land. Autopilot...it's a beauty.
Ok, back to judging people:
Backseat vs. Frontseat
One of the biggest indicators of a person's personality is where they sit, especially if they are alone in the cab. Most people sit in the front, but if someone sits in the back by themselves, it's pretty clear that they want to be left alone. They might try to engage in small talk to avoid awkwardness, but these conversations never go anywhere. Most of the ride is spent in silence. These people are usually business people, going to/from the airport, or are residents of the suburbs of the city.
People who sit in the frontseat are usually a lot more personable and want to have a conversation, but not all. I can usually tell by the first few lines of dialogue if this person actually wants to talk. If they talk about the weather or some other bullshit like that, the conversation usually dies. If it's super awkward one of us will usually try to say something, but it never really goes anywhere. These people are usually ones who sit in the front seat to be polite. In Kenya, it's impolite to not sit in the front seat and talk with the driver (I learned this from an international student who was in my cab).
On that note, there are the couples that have one in the front seat and one in the back seat. This is kinda hard to read because I'm wondering whether a)someone is sitting in the frontseat to be polite, like mentioned above or b)they're fighting. However, this is how it usually goes. If the guy is the front seat, they are usually fighting. If the girl in the front seat, she is being polite. If the front seat passenger actually talks to me, then it is usually a good ride. If they don't say anything, the ride usually remains in awkward silence.
On the topic of awkward silence, I'd like to mention that although I usually acknowledge the awkwardness, I never really do anything about it. As I said, I'm in autopilot and usually thinking about something else. However, nothing is more awkward than when I get 4-5 people in the cab and none of them are talking. I mean, c'mon, you guys are going to a club and you're all packed into a cab. Talk please.
Finishing off the backseat vs. frontseat conversation, we have the very personable people, people who really want/need me to talk to them. There is no awkwardness here and this is usually where my temporary friendships of the evening come from. These people are most often from the poorer areas of the city. West-side etiquette dictates that people should sit in the front and talk to the driver. Some of these people are sketchy as hell, but they are all usually pretty friendly...unless they judge me as unfriendly, which does happen.
Skipping Out On The Fare
One of the biggest reasons why I need to judge people is to decide whether or not they will skip out on me. This doesn't happen often, but I'm starting to pick up on the signs:
1. Usually a single person, and in my experiences always male.
2. Friendly. They will always engage in conversation to lighten the mood.
3. Happy. People who are unhappy about paying the fare actually intend on paying the fare. If they didn't intend on paying, they wouldn't be so pissed.
4. Vague directions. Someone skipping out doesn't want you to know where the live. So, they tell you to go to an area of the city and they'll direct you from there.
5. Front seat. The back doors have child locks, if you want to skip you need to be in the front.
6. Short trip to Tim's/McDs. Always beware the customers who wants to pay $5 to go 2 blocks to get food. They probably won't pay.
So, when I see these indicators, here's what I do: I take off my glasses, I turn the headlights off, and as we roll to a stop I open my door just a crack. If they wanna run, I'm ready to go. I don't care if it's only a few bucks, chasing people down is fun. I'm ready to turn off the engine, lock the doors, and chase that motherfucker down.
Here are some tips if you're wanting to skip out:
1. Give your end destination as somewhere further than your house, but with your house on the way.
2. When you get near to your place, ask to stop for a second a 7/11, and that you'll be right back. If no one stores are near, say you need to pick up a friend at their house.
3. Live on the east side. If you say you wanna go to the west side, the cabbie will probably tell you to pay upfront.
4. Run. Don't treat me like some PoS that will let you walk away. Respect...please.
5. Talk about how shitty your day was. It will make me want to be quick to drop you off, and maybe not care about tracking you down.
6. Run fast. Don't let the cabbie run faster than you. These people have massive amounts of built-up frustration and are looking for someone to take it out on. The police won't come to their rescue when someone skips out, and the police won't come to your rescue if the cabbie catches you.
Fun fact. Everyone who has skipped out on me has lived in Sutherland and has worn a baseball cap.
This whole judging thing has taken longer than I expected it to. I'm going to call this Part One and continue this at a later date. There is a no shortage of judging going on in my cab, I will have more blogs about this in the future.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sometimes My Job Makes Me Feel Like This
I hate people. I hate drunk people. I hate all the guys who go to the club and on the way talk about how much they are going to hook up tonight. I hate all the guys who come home by themselves and brag about how many opportunities they had. I hate all the girls who hide their sluttiness behind alcohol. I hate all the superficial people of this city that all feel the need to be in my cab all night long.
Everyone who goes to Outlaw's is a greasy, hick dirtbag. Everyone who goes to Tequila's is a heartless sack of shit wrapped in a pretty shell. Everyone who goes to the Scuz is just an idiot.
Don't tell me to change me music. If you tell me to tune into Wired 96.3 I'm going to leave you at the side of the road. If you call a cab, you should probably look out the window every once in a while. One of these times if you make me wait that long I'm going to wait until you're two steps from the van and then I'm going to drive off.
I hate gross, poor people. I hate that you wear faded blue jeans with 10 year old white sneakers...out in public. I hate that you have no manners and reinforce multiple stereotypes. I hate that you're making me believe stereotypes. I hate you're so racist you can't get by the fact that I'm white.
'Fuck you' is what I should be saying at every opportunity but instead I just laugh and nod. You ask me how my day is going and I'm wondering whether I should respect you enough to be honest, or maybe I should respect you enough to not be honest. How want to know how my day is going? It's going horrible, and your presence just made things worse. In fact, I was having a good day until you showed up.
Fuck you. Don't touch my music. Don't say stupid things. Don't even look at me, don't even sit in the front seat....just sit there til we've arrived, and if you try to give me directions to 8th Street I'm gonna drive to the outskirts of the city and leave you there, hopefully it gets colder out.
But here's what I really hate....I HATE that with all the this hatred, the one thing I can never add to the list....is my job.
I love my job, and no matter how mad I get, all it takes is one good customer or one good song to turn things right around. My job, I want to hate it, I want to hate it intensely. I want to drive around as an angry person yelling at random people and then quitting my job in epic fashion. Alas, this will not happen.
Saskatoon, I hate you.
Saskatoon, I love you.
Best. Job. Ever.
Everyone who goes to Outlaw's is a greasy, hick dirtbag. Everyone who goes to Tequila's is a heartless sack of shit wrapped in a pretty shell. Everyone who goes to the Scuz is just an idiot.
Don't tell me to change me music. If you tell me to tune into Wired 96.3 I'm going to leave you at the side of the road. If you call a cab, you should probably look out the window every once in a while. One of these times if you make me wait that long I'm going to wait until you're two steps from the van and then I'm going to drive off.
I hate gross, poor people. I hate that you wear faded blue jeans with 10 year old white sneakers...out in public. I hate that you have no manners and reinforce multiple stereotypes. I hate that you're making me believe stereotypes. I hate you're so racist you can't get by the fact that I'm white.
'Fuck you' is what I should be saying at every opportunity but instead I just laugh and nod. You ask me how my day is going and I'm wondering whether I should respect you enough to be honest, or maybe I should respect you enough to not be honest. How want to know how my day is going? It's going horrible, and your presence just made things worse. In fact, I was having a good day until you showed up.
Fuck you. Don't touch my music. Don't say stupid things. Don't even look at me, don't even sit in the front seat....just sit there til we've arrived, and if you try to give me directions to 8th Street I'm gonna drive to the outskirts of the city and leave you there, hopefully it gets colder out.
But here's what I really hate....I HATE that with all the this hatred, the one thing I can never add to the list....is my job.
I love my job, and no matter how mad I get, all it takes is one good customer or one good song to turn things right around. My job, I want to hate it, I want to hate it intensely. I want to drive around as an angry person yelling at random people and then quitting my job in epic fashion. Alas, this will not happen.
Saskatoon, I hate you.
Saskatoon, I love you.
Best. Job. Ever.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
In Demand
I drove one guy who I thought was retarded, turns out he was just Australian.
One of my customers asked what I would do if he ran off without paying. I told him I would chase after him and take my money. Despite being 17 years my senior, he was sure I would not be able to catch. We debated this for a while but eventually got to his place. He paid the $10 and went our separate ways.
There were quite a few friendlies in the cab this weekend. One group of girls appear to have become regulars. They're too nice, when I offer the friend discount of not turning on the meter and giving them the choice of paying and how much, they seem to pay too much. Not too too much, but the fare plus a good tip. I feel bad, I might have to turn the meter on next time....but I know they read this blog so I'm not too worried about it. I also have another new batch of regulars. I use the friend discount, they pay a little less than what they would if I turned on the meter. That's a fair fare.
Late Night Chow: Tim Horton's Bagel B.E.L.T.
The Belt is not a terrible late night option, but it's not very good either. It has no identity. It's not breakfast, but it's not lunch or dinner either. It doesn't even have a brunch feel either. Worst of all, it's not even greasy. Grease is the key to late-night goodness. Unfortunately, the Belt only garners a 2/5 score, which hurts Tim Horton's good reputation in a tight fight for late night supremacy with 7-11 and McD.
I want a cab that is a Fiat 500 with the horn from a semi-truck. I feel that it would be epic.
I got yelled at by an angry mom who refused to pay the full fare for her daughter's meandering through the city. Bitch.
One of my fellow United cab drivers ran through a streetlight on Friday evening. It was quite the mess and a few tow-trucks and popo-mobiles were at the scene. When I arrived back at the garage at the end of my shift I asked the guy from dispatch what had happened. This was an hour after the event and he said he had not heard anything and was mad that it was not reported. Every cab driver on the East side of the city knew about this little incident. I suspect the Pakistani community stuck together and wanted to prevent this guy from getting in trouble. I also suspect that my tattling will make me a Serpico in the cabbing community, ostracized and hated:
Mohammad #1: That young white cabbie told on our guy!
Mohammad #2: Which one?\
Mohammad #1: The only one in the city
Mohammad #3: Let's get him.
If I ever have an asian girlfriend, I will take her to Tim Horton's at 2 AM. Seriously, I never pick up asians from bars or clubs, but I always see asian couples going to Tim Horton's and talking at 2 in the morning.
I simulated a warm summer day by turning the heat on really high in my cab. When it got really hot I left the heat on in the rest of the cab and changed the fans in the driver section to really cold. It felt like a warm summer day and I had the A/C on to cool myself off. It''s doing stuff like this that gets me through a 12-hour shift.
One of my customers asked what I would do if he ran off without paying. I told him I would chase after him and take my money. Despite being 17 years my senior, he was sure I would not be able to catch. We debated this for a while but eventually got to his place. He paid the $10 and went our separate ways.
There were quite a few friendlies in the cab this weekend. One group of girls appear to have become regulars. They're too nice, when I offer the friend discount of not turning on the meter and giving them the choice of paying and how much, they seem to pay too much. Not too too much, but the fare plus a good tip. I feel bad, I might have to turn the meter on next time....but I know they read this blog so I'm not too worried about it. I also have another new batch of regulars. I use the friend discount, they pay a little less than what they would if I turned on the meter. That's a fair fare.
Late Night Chow: Tim Horton's Bagel B.E.L.T.
The Belt is not a terrible late night option, but it's not very good either. It has no identity. It's not breakfast, but it's not lunch or dinner either. It doesn't even have a brunch feel either. Worst of all, it's not even greasy. Grease is the key to late-night goodness. Unfortunately, the Belt only garners a 2/5 score, which hurts Tim Horton's good reputation in a tight fight for late night supremacy with 7-11 and McD.
I want a cab that is a Fiat 500 with the horn from a semi-truck. I feel that it would be epic.
I got yelled at by an angry mom who refused to pay the full fare for her daughter's meandering through the city. Bitch.
One of my fellow United cab drivers ran through a streetlight on Friday evening. It was quite the mess and a few tow-trucks and popo-mobiles were at the scene. When I arrived back at the garage at the end of my shift I asked the guy from dispatch what had happened. This was an hour after the event and he said he had not heard anything and was mad that it was not reported. Every cab driver on the East side of the city knew about this little incident. I suspect the Pakistani community stuck together and wanted to prevent this guy from getting in trouble. I also suspect that my tattling will make me a Serpico in the cabbing community, ostracized and hated:
Mohammad #1: That young white cabbie told on our guy!
Mohammad #2: Which one?\
Mohammad #1: The only one in the city
Mohammad #3: Let's get him.
If I ever have an asian girlfriend, I will take her to Tim Horton's at 2 AM. Seriously, I never pick up asians from bars or clubs, but I always see asian couples going to Tim Horton's and talking at 2 in the morning.
I simulated a warm summer day by turning the heat on really high in my cab. When it got really hot I left the heat on in the rest of the cab and changed the fans in the driver section to really cold. It felt like a warm summer day and I had the A/C on to cool myself off. It''s doing stuff like this that gets me through a 12-hour shift.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
City Wide Drive-Like-An-Asshole Night
I did not receive the memo, but yesterday was a city-wide drive-like-an-asshole night. Having no prior knowledge of this, I was unprepared and became quickly frustrated by the antics of the driving population. When you organize a big event like this, you will always have people who show up and perform half-assed. I remember the zombie walk night in the city, and a lot of so-called zombies were just people with a ripped shirt and some ketchup....and that's how the asshole driving night. Some people were lazy and were content with simply driving in the middle of two lanes or driving a little too slow. Other drivers, however, brought their A-game.
I was impressed with how much an asshole some drivers could be. While trying to turn left onto Idylwyld I had to wait until the light turned amber before I could cross as traffic was heavy. At these busy streets, it is expected that people will run the amber so usually I have to wait until the light is actually red before I can scoot across the intersection. With the light red, I thought it safe to cross as surely no one would cut it this late. I was wrong though, and one of the evening's participants not only cut through very late, but gave me the finger for being into the intersection myself. Well played, sir, well played.
Another driver got the best of me when I was traveling down a twisting back road. The snow was piled high and therefore I could not see what was around the corner. As I approached the corner a speeding car stared me dead in the eyes as he drove on the wrong side of the road. Too ensure a good placement in the evening's event, he was sure to swerve out of the way only a mere 15 metres in front of me. My customer got quite the scare, but I comforted her by telling her it was just a game for the evening. I then congratulated my fellow night driver for having pulled off such a ballsy and asshole move.
As the evening progressed I became more and more frustrated with other drivers but managed to keep my cool. The roads were very icy and on one particular road I had to go quite slow to make sure I did not slide into a busy intersection. The truck behind me was not pleased by this, and in keeping with the theme he honked and swerved around quite feverishly. At this point I muttered 'Hell is other drivers'. My customer did not appear to be an avid Sartre reader as she misunderstood the quote and thought I was simply mad at the other driver. I myself found the quote to be quite fitting.
As day turned into night and the clock passed 12:00 I was relieved that Drive-Like-An-Asshole night was over. The remaining five hours of my shift could go by much more smoothly, and they did. A trip to Martensville and some generous tippers who had been waiting in the cold for a long time brightened the financial side of the evening. Unfortunately, they were waiting outside Jax so of course they were not quality clientele. At this point I started rating my customers on a scale of 0-100. I soon figured that this was too simple a system and soon started rating them 0-10 on three different categories. From here, I discovered my dislike for people who swore, or gave people the finger, or were just simply rude. I then looked at my own self. I tend to swear quite a bit and perhaps this does not look favourably on me. I will try to classier person in the future.
On a side note, the two customers I rated the highest were just nice guys who asked about my job. Not very entertaining, but quality people...even despite one of them coming from Buds. Perhaps I will try to be a higher quality person by just asking people about their life and being polite.
Greasy Gregg's Late Night Chow:
Tonight I found out that I can order breakfast sandwiches at Tim Horton's as early as 4 AM. 5/5.
I was impressed with how much an asshole some drivers could be. While trying to turn left onto Idylwyld I had to wait until the light turned amber before I could cross as traffic was heavy. At these busy streets, it is expected that people will run the amber so usually I have to wait until the light is actually red before I can scoot across the intersection. With the light red, I thought it safe to cross as surely no one would cut it this late. I was wrong though, and one of the evening's participants not only cut through very late, but gave me the finger for being into the intersection myself. Well played, sir, well played.
Another driver got the best of me when I was traveling down a twisting back road. The snow was piled high and therefore I could not see what was around the corner. As I approached the corner a speeding car stared me dead in the eyes as he drove on the wrong side of the road. Too ensure a good placement in the evening's event, he was sure to swerve out of the way only a mere 15 metres in front of me. My customer got quite the scare, but I comforted her by telling her it was just a game for the evening. I then congratulated my fellow night driver for having pulled off such a ballsy and asshole move.
As the evening progressed I became more and more frustrated with other drivers but managed to keep my cool. The roads were very icy and on one particular road I had to go quite slow to make sure I did not slide into a busy intersection. The truck behind me was not pleased by this, and in keeping with the theme he honked and swerved around quite feverishly. At this point I muttered 'Hell is other drivers'. My customer did not appear to be an avid Sartre reader as she misunderstood the quote and thought I was simply mad at the other driver. I myself found the quote to be quite fitting.
As day turned into night and the clock passed 12:00 I was relieved that Drive-Like-An-Asshole night was over. The remaining five hours of my shift could go by much more smoothly, and they did. A trip to Martensville and some generous tippers who had been waiting in the cold for a long time brightened the financial side of the evening. Unfortunately, they were waiting outside Jax so of course they were not quality clientele. At this point I started rating my customers on a scale of 0-100. I soon figured that this was too simple a system and soon started rating them 0-10 on three different categories. From here, I discovered my dislike for people who swore, or gave people the finger, or were just simply rude. I then looked at my own self. I tend to swear quite a bit and perhaps this does not look favourably on me. I will try to classier person in the future.
On a side note, the two customers I rated the highest were just nice guys who asked about my job. Not very entertaining, but quality people...even despite one of them coming from Buds. Perhaps I will try to be a higher quality person by just asking people about their life and being polite.
Greasy Gregg's Late Night Chow:
Tonight I found out that I can order breakfast sandwiches at Tim Horton's as early as 4 AM. 5/5.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Spacial Discrimination
Tonight at the Scuz one member of the drinking population experienced some spacial discrimination. He asked a cab driver if he could be taken to the West Side, and the driver responded by saying he wanted the money up-front. Since he wanted to pay by debit, the driver refused. My taxi was sitting right behind where this was happening, so naturally the young inebriated fellow came to my window. Me being too nice for my own profession, I welcomed him into my cab. As it turns out, he's a drug dealer...but a nice drug dealer. Him and his friend invited me in for a smoke, but I declined. Upon hearing that I was a business student, he demanded that I open a Taco Bell on the West Side. Apparently, everyone's get-rich-quick scheme on the west side is to open as Taco Bell. He also demanded that he get 50% off whenever he came into said Taco Bell. I responded by saying that if I ever opened a Taco Bell he could come it for free whenever he wanted.
Repeat Customer No. 1
I dropped some random guys off at the Copper Mug and then later in the evening I picked the same people up. They asked if I was their cab driver earlier in the evening. I asked them if their cab driver was young and white. They responded in the affirmative. I then said that must have been their cab driver earlier as there are no other young white cab drivers in the city.
Repeat Customer No. 2
Three ladies rode in my cab across the city. I quickly found out that they were commerce students at the U of S and we struck up a conversation. When dropping them off I gave out my number, as I am wont to a couple times every shift. I was surprised though when they actually called me back. They were nice, we stopped at Subway and got a bite to eat, which I didn't mind because it was after 3:30 and I never really get any calls after that. They said they would call me again some other weekend. I doubt it. Perhaps I will see them in school one day. If I do, I will say nothing. Worlds must not collide.
I continue to think of my job as a video game, and I started to wonder what kind of cheats this game would have it actually existed. This line of thought eventually led to me wondering what the best superpower would be for a cabbie. I decided that the ability to see the future would be best....either that or completely horrible. Just when they're about to call, Carson rolls up in the Caravan. They ask if someone else called a cab already. I say 'Not yet they haven't, I'm just a super-cabbie'.
...some engineers from Calgary were quite upset when they found out that Saskatoon did not have strip clubs. For some reason that cab ride ended with me recommending them that they go to 302.
Repeat Customer No. 1
I dropped some random guys off at the Copper Mug and then later in the evening I picked the same people up. They asked if I was their cab driver earlier in the evening. I asked them if their cab driver was young and white. They responded in the affirmative. I then said that must have been their cab driver earlier as there are no other young white cab drivers in the city.
Repeat Customer No. 2
Three ladies rode in my cab across the city. I quickly found out that they were commerce students at the U of S and we struck up a conversation. When dropping them off I gave out my number, as I am wont to a couple times every shift. I was surprised though when they actually called me back. They were nice, we stopped at Subway and got a bite to eat, which I didn't mind because it was after 3:30 and I never really get any calls after that. They said they would call me again some other weekend. I doubt it. Perhaps I will see them in school one day. If I do, I will say nothing. Worlds must not collide.
I continue to think of my job as a video game, and I started to wonder what kind of cheats this game would have it actually existed. This line of thought eventually led to me wondering what the best superpower would be for a cabbie. I decided that the ability to see the future would be best....either that or completely horrible. Just when they're about to call, Carson rolls up in the Caravan. They ask if someone else called a cab already. I say 'Not yet they haven't, I'm just a super-cabbie'.
...some engineers from Calgary were quite upset when they found out that Saskatoon did not have strip clubs. For some reason that cab ride ended with me recommending them that they go to 302.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Coug Night
A man gave me a $20 tip so that he could slide over the hood of my cab 'Dukes of Hazzards-style'. He failed miserably. I gave him the double thumbs up and drove away.
I pinky swore with a cougar that I would not have sex with her. I did not have sex with her.
A house ordered two cabs tonight. I was one of them. They took too long and the other cab drove away. In the following moments 11 people rode in a cab that only seats 7.
One customer informed me of some government family cheque that was given out this week, and predicted that there would be a lot of cougars. His hypothesis proved to be correct. Unfortunately, I haven't shaved for a week and have not had a haircut in some time, so I could not fully take advantage of this opportunity. However, I was still able to get 6 tips throughout the night that exceeded $10. Two of these were in excess of $20. Two of these tips had to be reciprocated by me giving them my cell phone number. I do not predict that I will receive any calls from them.
Two is the number of tips that I got this evening that came in the form of McDonalds. One was a large soda, the other was medium fries.
Corn dogs from 7-Eleven are delicious. Jalapeno taquitos are not.
Upon hearing that I keep a blog of my taxi nights, one customer recommended that I get a smart phone with internet so that I can tweet real-time updates of my evening. I do not see a necessity for this.
Canada is now the 3rd most popular country for this blog. Germany is number 1. Thank you to those germans who are currently reading this.
I pinky swore with a cougar that I would not have sex with her. I did not have sex with her.
A house ordered two cabs tonight. I was one of them. They took too long and the other cab drove away. In the following moments 11 people rode in a cab that only seats 7.
One customer informed me of some government family cheque that was given out this week, and predicted that there would be a lot of cougars. His hypothesis proved to be correct. Unfortunately, I haven't shaved for a week and have not had a haircut in some time, so I could not fully take advantage of this opportunity. However, I was still able to get 6 tips throughout the night that exceeded $10. Two of these were in excess of $20. Two of these tips had to be reciprocated by me giving them my cell phone number. I do not predict that I will receive any calls from them.
Two is the number of tips that I got this evening that came in the form of McDonalds. One was a large soda, the other was medium fries.
Corn dogs from 7-Eleven are delicious. Jalapeno taquitos are not.
Upon hearing that I keep a blog of my taxi nights, one customer recommended that I get a smart phone with internet so that I can tweet real-time updates of my evening. I do not see a necessity for this.
Canada is now the 3rd most popular country for this blog. Germany is number 1. Thank you to those germans who are currently reading this.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
You're All Freeloaders
I'll admit it, I have anger management issues. Except, unlike most people my issue is that I can't seem to stay angry. I really wanted to have an angry night. Everything was going wrong. I had to stand around for the first 40 minutes of my shift while they finished an oil change on my vehicle (I was not even made aware of this until 20 minutes into my shift). Then, I find out they stole my map book when they cleaned the vehicle and did the oil change, but I was all the way on the other side of the city. So, I had to drive all the way back and spend $27 on a new one, only to find the old one the second I stepped back into my cab. Then I had shitty customers who didn't tip. At one point I was actually flipping off random pedestrians on Broadway, so I suppose I can show some anger.
...but that didn't last. I don't know how to explain this next part, but I made myself feel better by giving a free ride to some sort-of friends I was driving to Outlaws. I was mad because I wasn't working and wasn't making money, so I gave up even more money and felt better because of it. There was also some Bob Marley involved and maybe that helped me feel better. Either way, anger didn't last, I just don't have it in me.
Like every other night, I got invited to a few parties tonight. A told one guy that I really can't drink when I'm working, so he said I should just come and smoke weed for a while....because that's okay. One party was actual in my apartment building, and my shift was over in 20 minutes. Still, no go....I don't feel like going to random parties with sketchy cab customers.
One final Christmas gift came in the form of the Olympian Sports office Christmas party. I ran into three of those guys and racked up $25 on tips alone on their corporate account. They seemed to have no problem taking detours around the city. $52 is now my biggest fare collected, thanks to them.
Line of the Night:
-"They want me to come to this fondue party tomorrow night"
-"FONDON'T"
...but that didn't last. I don't know how to explain this next part, but I made myself feel better by giving a free ride to some sort-of friends I was driving to Outlaws. I was mad because I wasn't working and wasn't making money, so I gave up even more money and felt better because of it. There was also some Bob Marley involved and maybe that helped me feel better. Either way, anger didn't last, I just don't have it in me.
Like every other night, I got invited to a few parties tonight. A told one guy that I really can't drink when I'm working, so he said I should just come and smoke weed for a while....because that's okay. One party was actual in my apartment building, and my shift was over in 20 minutes. Still, no go....I don't feel like going to random parties with sketchy cab customers.
One final Christmas gift came in the form of the Olympian Sports office Christmas party. I ran into three of those guys and racked up $25 on tips alone on their corporate account. They seemed to have no problem taking detours around the city. $52 is now my biggest fare collected, thanks to them.
Line of the Night:
-"They want me to come to this fondue party tomorrow night"
-"FONDON'T"
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Stopping: The Cabbie's Achilles' Heel
This city has too many stop signs. This has become a stop city. We need to be a go city. We need more go signs.
At least I had an excuse tonight. I tried to stop, but my cab wasn't having any of that. I slid through a few red light cameras, I hope they understand. My customers understood. I got into a slide, there was a red light....and all I did was look both ways and power through. They thought I was being crazy and trying to get them there quickly. Whatever gets me a good tip....
Greasy Gregg's Late Night Chow: 7-Eleven Taquito's
I've decided to introduce a reoccurring segment to this blog, based on my sampling of the late night cuisine of the city. These reviews are be perfect for the drunk who just needs to fill his or her belly with greasy goodness. Of course, every segment needs a sponsor, and who better to sponsor greasy good than our friend Greasy Gregg? For those that don't know Gregg, he currently holds the fairly prestigious honour of being the greasiest customer I've had to privilege of driving around. Being 40-50 years old with long, poorly dyed hair and playing VLTs puts you into a certain level of greasiness, but what puts Gregg over the top is that he tried to pick up a hooker in my cab. That really just puts you into a league of your own. Getting on with it, the inaugural food for this segment are the 3 for $5 Taquitos at 7-Eleven. Famous for their Not-really-a-deal-deals, 7-Eleven packs a punch with these spicy grease-dipped fireballs. When presented with options of Jalapeno, Buffalo, and Monterrey Jack, I thought I'd go with the safe non-spicy option, but was knocked back by a fireball of deliciousness. If I am ever to up my game and go for the Jalapeno, I will be sure to bring a fire extinguisher. (I'm exaggerating, they aren't that hot....but they're pretty damn good for 5 AM food). Score: 4.0/5 Greggs
My Night in Numbers
Drinks spilled in my cab tonight: 3. (The beer and the coke were spilled by drunks, but the chocolate milk was all me. That didn't stop me from blaming a drunk when my next customer asked me why I had chocolate milk spilled on myself.)
Trips already booked for tomorrow night: 2People in my cab who I knew: Too many
Friend(s) of a friends: 1
Lost keys in cab: 0 (Despite having to search my cab intensely, they were found at the house I originally picked them up at)
Doughnuts: 2
Packs of Halls: 3
Hours that my iPod lasted: 2 (goddammit!)
I'm considering the idea of gonzo cabbing. For those that don't know the term, gonzo is a style of journalism that Hunter S. Thompson used where he involved himself with the story to a point where he provoked things to happen. Some nights for me are boring, so I think I need to find ways to provoke my customers to make my night more exciting. The trick here is to provoke them without inciting them to hatred and thereby putting my life in jeopardy. How would customers react if I wore a fake beard? played Disney music really loud? starting talking to myself? These are situations that play themselves out in my head throughout my 12 hours of cabbing.
At least I had an excuse tonight. I tried to stop, but my cab wasn't having any of that. I slid through a few red light cameras, I hope they understand. My customers understood. I got into a slide, there was a red light....and all I did was look both ways and power through. They thought I was being crazy and trying to get them there quickly. Whatever gets me a good tip....
Greasy Gregg's Late Night Chow: 7-Eleven Taquito's
I've decided to introduce a reoccurring segment to this blog, based on my sampling of the late night cuisine of the city. These reviews are be perfect for the drunk who just needs to fill his or her belly with greasy goodness. Of course, every segment needs a sponsor, and who better to sponsor greasy good than our friend Greasy Gregg? For those that don't know Gregg, he currently holds the fairly prestigious honour of being the greasiest customer I've had to privilege of driving around. Being 40-50 years old with long, poorly dyed hair and playing VLTs puts you into a certain level of greasiness, but what puts Gregg over the top is that he tried to pick up a hooker in my cab. That really just puts you into a league of your own. Getting on with it, the inaugural food for this segment are the 3 for $5 Taquitos at 7-Eleven. Famous for their Not-really-a-deal-deals, 7-Eleven packs a punch with these spicy grease-dipped fireballs. When presented with options of Jalapeno, Buffalo, and Monterrey Jack, I thought I'd go with the safe non-spicy option, but was knocked back by a fireball of deliciousness. If I am ever to up my game and go for the Jalapeno, I will be sure to bring a fire extinguisher. (I'm exaggerating, they aren't that hot....but they're pretty damn good for 5 AM food). Score: 4.0/5 Greggs
My Night in Numbers
Drinks spilled in my cab tonight: 3. (The beer and the coke were spilled by drunks, but the chocolate milk was all me. That didn't stop me from blaming a drunk when my next customer asked me why I had chocolate milk spilled on myself.)
Trips already booked for tomorrow night: 2People in my cab who I knew: Too many
Friend(s) of a friends: 1
Lost keys in cab: 0 (Despite having to search my cab intensely, they were found at the house I originally picked them up at)
Doughnuts: 2
Packs of Halls: 3
Hours that my iPod lasted: 2 (goddammit!)
I'm considering the idea of gonzo cabbing. For those that don't know the term, gonzo is a style of journalism that Hunter S. Thompson used where he involved himself with the story to a point where he provoked things to happen. Some nights for me are boring, so I think I need to find ways to provoke my customers to make my night more exciting. The trick here is to provoke them without inciting them to hatred and thereby putting my life in jeopardy. How would customers react if I wore a fake beard? played Disney music really loud? starting talking to myself? These are situations that play themselves out in my head throughout my 12 hours of cabbing.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Carson Gets A Speeding Ticket
In the hour leading up to my shift I was faced with a decision. Clearly sick, the smart thing to do would have been to call in sick and not go. However, my financial situation made me think twice. On top of that, I wasn't sure if I even could take a sick day. Would I still have to pay my lease? Does it cost me $80 to not go to work? Whatever, off to work I go. I'll put in 4-5 hours, make my $80 and maybe a bit more, and then just pack it in.
Three hours come and go, business is good and my bed is within sight. Unfortunately, the other thing within my sight (my rear-view sight to be precise) are the ole' cherries and berries. As I'm pulled over the cop walks up to my window and yells 'You will respect my authori-TAY!'. The only necessary reply was for me to pull out my 9 mm and show that pig who's boss. Before I know it we are out in the street, guns in our holsters and eyes locked, each ready for the other to make the first move. Silence swept over the city. An empty plastic bag danced its way through our duel as the tension grew to unbearable heights. The only thing needed to perfectly capture the mood would have been a homeless man whistling the tune to The Good The Bad And The Ugly. Unfortunately, none such vagrant was to be found.
So ya.....$127 speeding ticket for going 67 down Circle Drive. I personally feel that it is retarded that the speed limit is 50 down there. At this point I went from being $10 in the hole to being faced with a big red $140. Sleep was not looking like a possibility for me at this point.
I did get have good customers. I got some good tips for letting some people play with my iPod. They seemed to like the Tom Petty and Michael Jackson, but were confused as to why Mozart was on my iPod as well. They also gave me a beer and I promised I'd drink it when I was done my shift. I am currently fulfilling that promise.
New game for when you are drunk in a taxi:
No one is allowed to say the same punchline multiple times. If you do, you get punched in the face-check that-I come punch you in the face. Seriously, happens two or three times I night. Someone makes a joke and then just keeps repeating the punchline all the way home.
Three hours come and go, business is good and my bed is within sight. Unfortunately, the other thing within my sight (my rear-view sight to be precise) are the ole' cherries and berries. As I'm pulled over the cop walks up to my window and yells 'You will respect my authori-TAY!'. The only necessary reply was for me to pull out my 9 mm and show that pig who's boss. Before I know it we are out in the street, guns in our holsters and eyes locked, each ready for the other to make the first move. Silence swept over the city. An empty plastic bag danced its way through our duel as the tension grew to unbearable heights. The only thing needed to perfectly capture the mood would have been a homeless man whistling the tune to The Good The Bad And The Ugly. Unfortunately, none such vagrant was to be found.
So ya.....$127 speeding ticket for going 67 down Circle Drive. I personally feel that it is retarded that the speed limit is 50 down there. At this point I went from being $10 in the hole to being faced with a big red $140. Sleep was not looking like a possibility for me at this point.
I did get have good customers. I got some good tips for letting some people play with my iPod. They seemed to like the Tom Petty and Michael Jackson, but were confused as to why Mozart was on my iPod as well. They also gave me a beer and I promised I'd drink it when I was done my shift. I am currently fulfilling that promise.
New game for when you are drunk in a taxi:
No one is allowed to say the same punchline multiple times. If you do, you get punched in the face-check that-I come punch you in the face. Seriously, happens two or three times I night. Someone makes a joke and then just keeps repeating the punchline all the way home.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Sleeping On The Job
Regular Occurrence:
Driving a drunk home....they don't give an address but give me turn-by-turn directions on the way there.....the directions stop coming....the drunk has passed out in the front seat. Where am I supposed to go? I give them a shake..."Holy shit, you were supposed to turn way back there!"
-
'Is this the Cash Cab?'
'Yup'
'Really?'
'Not a fuckin chance'
-
Today one of my customers showed me his butterfly knife. He told me to touch it to see how sharp it was. Disregarding Christmas, I have had 3 knives shown to me in my last two shifts. This trend is distressing.
My seatbelt was uncomfortable so I took it off. I don't usually drive without a seatbelt so it felt odd. I then began to wonder if, in a fresh batch of irony, I would get into a car accident tonight and die because of my lack of safety harness. I then wondered what the results of my death would be. The conclusion that I arrived at was that it would not be much of a tragedy, although AIESEC Saskatoon would need a new VPOGX. Most of the world would remain unaffected by my absence. My seatbelt remained unhinged for the duration of the evening.
I was extremely sick tonight (thanks AIESEC) but I tried very hard to make it not show. I didn't want to reach for my Halls because then my customers would know that their driver is sick and they might not like the idea of catching something. This led to me looking like I was either constipated or dry-heaving....but I never coughed in front of a customer.
Tonight I tried to mimic my customers. Language, facial expressions, mannerisms, etc. I felt I did a pretty good job, no one called me on. I read about this as a sales technique that makes a customer feel like they connect with you in some way. I wasn't sure if it was BS or not, but after tonight I think it might be true.
My shift ended at 4:30, when I realized that a few seconds earlier it was only 4:00. Apparently I took a half hour nap. Convinced that I was too sick and too tired to continue, I packed it in a bit early. My thoughts have now shifted towards Tim Hortons breakfast sandwiches. It is my undying wish that I will wake up tomorrow and they will be beside my bed. They will be warm. I will eat them. They will be delicious. I will be satisfied.
Mmmmmmmmmm....
Why am I still writing this? I am tired....
Driving a drunk home....they don't give an address but give me turn-by-turn directions on the way there.....the directions stop coming....the drunk has passed out in the front seat. Where am I supposed to go? I give them a shake..."Holy shit, you were supposed to turn way back there!"
-
'Is this the Cash Cab?'
'Yup'
'Really?'
'Not a fuckin chance'
-
Today one of my customers showed me his butterfly knife. He told me to touch it to see how sharp it was. Disregarding Christmas, I have had 3 knives shown to me in my last two shifts. This trend is distressing.
My seatbelt was uncomfortable so I took it off. I don't usually drive without a seatbelt so it felt odd. I then began to wonder if, in a fresh batch of irony, I would get into a car accident tonight and die because of my lack of safety harness. I then wondered what the results of my death would be. The conclusion that I arrived at was that it would not be much of a tragedy, although AIESEC Saskatoon would need a new VPOGX. Most of the world would remain unaffected by my absence. My seatbelt remained unhinged for the duration of the evening.
I was extremely sick tonight (thanks AIESEC) but I tried very hard to make it not show. I didn't want to reach for my Halls because then my customers would know that their driver is sick and they might not like the idea of catching something. This led to me looking like I was either constipated or dry-heaving....but I never coughed in front of a customer.
Tonight I tried to mimic my customers. Language, facial expressions, mannerisms, etc. I felt I did a pretty good job, no one called me on. I read about this as a sales technique that makes a customer feel like they connect with you in some way. I wasn't sure if it was BS or not, but after tonight I think it might be true.
My shift ended at 4:30, when I realized that a few seconds earlier it was only 4:00. Apparently I took a half hour nap. Convinced that I was too sick and too tired to continue, I packed it in a bit early. My thoughts have now shifted towards Tim Hortons breakfast sandwiches. It is my undying wish that I will wake up tomorrow and they will be beside my bed. They will be warm. I will eat them. They will be delicious. I will be satisfied.
Mmmmmmmmmm....
Why am I still writing this? I am tired....
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