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.
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