August 3, 2008 – The Man Who Didn’t Like Cigarettes

            A few weeks ago myself and a fellow driver were having a chat.  I was sitting in my taxi, in the drivers seat, and one of the other drivers who well call “William” was sitting in the back.  Smoking a cigarette.  William does what most people do when they are finished with their cigarette – throw it on the ground.  Obviously this isn’t the best place to discard spent cigarette butts, but that’s where most of them just end up.  Point is it’s common.

            As William threw his butt out the window a concerned citizen spotted it and came over to intervene.  We’ll call this man “Lawrence.”

            Lawrence: You dropped something.

            William: Yeah

            Lawrence: Yeah, it’s not a garbage can you know (the sidewalk).

            William: I know.

            Lawrence: So are you going to pick it up?

            William: Yeah.

            Lawrence: Are you going to pick that up?

            William: Yeah, I will.

            So Lawrence walks about 100 feet down the block and waits.  Watching to see if William will leave the taxi to pick up his cigarette butt.  Me and William get a good laugh out of this whole thing.  I have never seen someone become so concerned about another person throwing a spent cigarette on the sidewalk.  I probably see it ten times a day.  Surely Lawrence sees the same.  Surely it just makes his blood boil.  After about 3 minutes Lawrence realizes that William has no intentions of picking up the cigarette butt and returns to the scene.

            Lawrence: Here you go (as he picks up that cigarette butt, which still is smoldering on the pavement, and throws it right in the taxi at William).

            William: (Sitting there in awe).  What the fuck?

            Me: What an asshole.

            William: I don’t know what to say.  I’m shocked.

            Me: Unreal.  That guy could have lit the taxi on fire.  Probably not, but it could have happened.  Does this guy always get this worked up about people throwing cigarettes on the ground?  It must be pretty hard for this guy to get through his day.

            A few weeks later I pick up a couple a few blocks from where this happened.  As I tried to leave the alley some A-hole in the alley zooms up in her BMW and blocks me from getting out and honks his horn.  He wants to go first.  So I say whatever and let him pass. We’ll call my passengers “Marty” and “Stephanie.”

            Me: What an asshole.

            Stephanie: Tell me about it.  I can’t stand that guy.

            Me: Why’s that?

            Stephanie: (Laughing) Tell him Marty.           

            Marty: He doesn’t want to hear about that?

            Me: No I do, what’s the deal with that guy?

            Stephanie: He’s our neighbor.  One day I threw a cigarette out in the alley behind my house and a few later he came to our front door to return it.  It was still lit.

            Me: (Laughing) I know that asshole!  (I then proceeded to tell Marty and Stephanie about my experience that I had a few weeks earlier at the Irish pub up the street.

            We all got a good laugh out of this.  Small world.  One of these days this guy is going return a cigarette to someone who really doesn’t want it back.  One of these days Lawrence is going to get socked in the face.

July 1, 2008 – Just Another Day at Cortez Cab

         Business as usual....

June 21, 2008 – Vincent

            Today Vincent got a little agitated with the games on the radio.  This happens fairly frequent these days.  Music, fart noises, mocking other drivers, etc…  Me, I don’t worry about it, I really don’t care.  But man, some people really get worked up about it, especially Vincent.

            Vincent used to be a dispatcher.  It just became too much for him to handle – all of the games on the radio that is.  The drivers would just taunt him relentlessly.  I could just imaging him sitting in that tiny little office, just smoldering away.  Infuriated.

            When the drivers would start up with the noises he would say things like “That’s what your motha said” or “I’m gonna come down there and punch you in the mouth.”  This would just add fuel to the fire.  If Vincent thought that the noise was bad before…  After a while Vincent was having nightly outbursts, cursing away at the drivers.  Most of them just got a good laugh out of it. 

            Now that Vincent has been driving, instead of dispatching, things aren’t much better.  About a week ago he had a breakdown.  It wasn’t the first time…  After being thoroughly provoked by his fellow cabbies, Vincent scoured the city with the intention of speaking to every single driver in an attempt to weed out the culprit.  He just came to the cab stands, one by one, shouting things like “I don’t give a fuck about the job, the police, jail.  If I find out who’s doing this I’m going to put them in the hospital!”  “I don’t give a fuck, I’ll put them in the ground!”  To say that he was mad would have been an understatement.

            The only advantage for Vincent is that when he begins to lose his temper while driving he can just go home.  When he was dispatching that wasn’t really an option.  Today, despite his frustration, Vinny stayed.  He just drove his passengers to their destination while calling the instigators “cowards.”  Catherine wasn’t amused.  A “landline” was requested…

June 19, 2008 – Eavesdropping

            I caught the office eavesdropping on me today.  I don’t know if “caught” is the right word, they made it quite apparent.

            One of our piece of shit cabs broke down on me AGAIN yesterday.  An almost weekly occurrence at this point.  This time it was a blown hose.  I was just driving and all of the sudden noticed my temperature gauge indicator was in the red – not a good sign. 

            Perhaps I could have been alerted if the check engine light had not been covered up with a business card.  Actually, I guess it wouldn’t have mattered, since it is always lit.  That was surely the thinking behind putting the business card there.  I think every car that I have driven so far had a check engine light the was permanently illuminated.  To be fair, I’m sure that some of the cars have check engine lights that aren’t illuminated though – but only because they were left on so long that the bulb burnt out.

            At any rate I thought it would be in my best interest to pull over right away.  There was steam shooting up from the hood, which is what actually alerted me to the problem initially.   Upon further inspection I saw that one of the hoses going to the radiator had blown and was spilling coolant into the street.  I called the office and arranged for a replacement cab for the remainder of the day.

            Today day I gave the office a call to check on the status of my car.

            Julie: Cortez Cab

            Me: Hey Julie, can I speak with Victoria?

            Julie: Hold on.

            Victoria: Hello, Victoria speaking.

            Me: Hey Victoria, it’s *****.  I was calling to see if there was any word on my cab.

            Victoria: Hmmm, uh let me see, uh, which cab do you drive?

            Me: Cab 44

            Victoria: Yeah, it looks like you will be driving Cab 98 for the res--------

            Catherine: Victoria I got it, I’ll take it from here.

            Catherine: Hey *****.  Yeah, right now your cab is in the shop.  Were looking at it right now.  Were checking the engine right now to see if we can save it.

            Me: Ok, I’ll check back later on it.  Thanks.

            Catherine: Teeennnn Fooouuuurrrr

            Why the guilt trip?  There was no way that I could have foreseen that hose bursting.  These things just happen.   Actually most times when something does break on an automobile it’s completely spontaneous.  I did exactly what I should have done by pulling over and letting the cab cool down.

            And for the eavesdropping.  I have no idea what the reason for that was.  And could it been overdramatized anymore?  I think not.

June 14, 2008 – Gomez Jr.

            Turns out I’m not the only driver who has outbursts on the radio.  Today I heard a great one out of  Gomez.  Catherine has this obnoxious habit of trying to micromanage every move we make.  When it gets busy it’s even worse – today we were busy.

            So when we arrive back in Cortez, or drop off our passengers within the city limits and are available for fares once again, we tell the office that we are “On the bridge” (to Cortez) or  that we’re “clear” (if we dropped off within the city limits.)   Often when Catherine is dispatching she wants to know EXACTLY where we are.   In all fairness, this is done to provide speedy service to customers, and it works well in theory.

            When it is busy and a driver drops a passenger off making them available for a call once again, there are often several people who have already called the office to request a cab.  It usually makes sense to send the driver to the closest call.  There’s nothing wrong with efficiency.  But there’s a difference between being efficient and manic.  Gomez doesn’t like being micromanaged any more than I do…

            Gomez: Cab 17

            Catherine: Cab 17 go ahead

            Gomez: I’m clear.

            Catherine: Ok your clear wheeerrreee?

            Gomez: By the beach.

            Catherine: Which section of the beach are you clear at?

            Gomez:  (Annoyed) I’m clear at the beach.

            Catherine: I need to know where on the beach you cleared.

            Gomez:  …BY THE TRASHCAN.

            Catherine:  ….Ok, go to 118 Tangerine St.

            Gomez:10-4

            Catherine: Teeeeennn  Fooouuurrrrr

            Good for Gomez.  I got a good chuckle out of this whole exchange.  What a ridiculous question.   The beach is half a mile long, so if he was at the other far side of the beach it may take up to a minute longer to get to the next call – not a big deal. 

            Catherine isn’t too fond of Gomez.   He doesn’t play ball in her eyes.  A non-conformist.  Once Catherine told another employee that she would rather get punched in the stomach than talk to Gomez.  That doesn’t strike me as a compliment…

            This is video that Gomez posted on the internet.  Gomez currently lives in  Tijuana (Mexico) because he claims that “In Mexico you’re still free.”  He also claims that there is human shit in the streets.  One of the drivers suggested that maybe it was dog shit.  Gomez replied (with emphasis) “Oh no, these were big”.

            Apparently in Mexico your neighbors have “angry goats” that terrorize your pets and damage your house. If that were not enough, people will come on to your land and steal your horse.  Gomez had wanted a horse all his life.  It was a dream of his, and someone stole it. Oh, and dinosaurs too – says Gomez.  Perhaps Mexico isn’t marketing itself right.  Maybe the theme should something like “Come visit Mexico, and experience the land before time.”

         For those of you who aren't familiar with "The Land Before Time", it is a popular childrens movie from the late 1980's.

June 5, 2008 – Dauf

            Julie: Cab44
            Me: Go Ahead

            Julie: Go pick up at the main gate (of the navy base).

            Me: 10-4

            It takes me a few minutes to get here because I was on the other side of town.   Whenever the dispatcher gives you a call it’s best to head straight there.  All of the radios in our cabs function as a network, so every transmission that is broadcast, between whoever, is heard by everyone in the network.  Also, often times by listening to the radio you can figure out where the other drivers are.  Today Dauf was listening.

            Dauf heard Julie give me a that call a few minutes and thinks that he is closer.   Instinctively, Dauf has decided to try and take the call that was given to me.  It’s nothing personal, he does this to everyone.  He's just a bastard, that's all.  I might not have explained this already, but when the dispatcher sends you to a certain location to pick up a passenger, and you acknowledge her/him, then it is your ride/fare – no one else’s.  It has been given to you, and everyone knows it because it is transmitted throughout the network.  If you want to give it to someone because they are closer, or because they ask you if they can pick it up, well that’s up to you.  That’s your prerogative.

            There are a number of ways that some of the other drivers try and get around this – by saying that they were already there (which often times they aren’t), saying that the passenger was insistent on leaving immediately, that they didn’t hear the radio (everyone listens to the radio), that the person that they picked up didn’t call, and so on.  None of these excuses are very believable.  Dauf gave a good example of this today.

            So as I arrive at the navy base to pick up my passenger I see Dauf a hundred feet or so in front of me trying to pick up my passenger.

            Me: Dauf, what are you doing.

            Me: Dauf, that’s my ride

            Dauf: What?

            Dauf: This guy, were you sent here?

            Me: Yes Dauf, but you already know that don’t you.

            Dauf: He said he didn’t call.  Do you want him.

            Me: Yes Dauf, I’ll take my call.

            It wasn’t a great ride.  About $14.  Nothing to scoff at.  More than anything it’s the principle of the matter.  You just don’t steal from your co-workers.  Unless they have previously stolen from you.  I believe in retribution.  The company believes in passivity.  Well let me tell you, passivity gets you nowhere in the cab racket.

June 4, 2008 – The Garbage House

            Just got a call.  Von’s grocery store in the back.  Typically these are not good calls, god bless em’, but usually they are some senior citizen that is going for a ride of less than half a mile – hence, a bad ride.  Most people seem to think that we like these short rides.  WE DO NOT.  Sometimes we sit around for 3 hours on a slow day waiting to get a ride, so if we get a ride from the grocery store for 6 blocks and make 6 dollars, that means that we have just made 2 dollars per hour for the last three hours, not to mention that we have to pay roughly $60 per day to use the taxi.  So, it’s more like we just paid $54 dollars to become frustrated.  I’m no math whiz but that just doesn’t add up in my book.  Usually they are nice little old ladies though so you cant really be mad at them, anyways that’s what we are here for I guess.

            Well, this isn’t just some little old lady.  This is the grumpy, old bag that lives at 432 E. Street.  We’ll call her Lois.  We all hate picking her up.  She knows that the fare is exactly 5 dollars to her house, so she demands to be paid up front (which we aren’t required to do since the meter goes by time as well as distance), makes you fold up her walker and put it into the trunk, and complains the whole way home about something or another.  This time was no exception… 

            Once one of our drivers named Roldando brought her home a few days ago, but started the meter as soon as he got to the grocery store and it ran as he loaded her and her belongings into the car.  When he got to her house it was $7.60 and she wasn’t paying.   I heard that he called the cops, I’d love to have seen that.  I kind of doubt that actually happened, but nothing shocks me with this company anymore.

Another time one of our drivers, Jefferson, dropped her off at her house and walked her to the door.  When he peeked inside there were just boxes and boxes everywhere.  And it smelled like cat shit.  Just like in that TV show “Hoarders.”  For those of you who don’t know, “Hoarders” is a cable television show about people who have basically given up on life (mostly obese old women) and how they are living in squalor.  They collect, and save, pretty much everything that they can get their hands on.  Sometimes they find dead cats under underneath piles of rubble.  When Jefferson dropped Lois off she noticed that he had caught a glance of her lair.

Lois: Someone’s coming to clean that up tomorrow

Jefferson: (With a suspicious nod) Mmmm hmmm.

From how the place had been described, it would have looked something like this.

            Jefferson said that it looked like the place hadn’t been cleaned in years.  What are the chances that the place was scheduled to be cleaned after years of neglect immediately after an outsider caught a peek inside?  What a coincidence…

April 12, 2008 – A Call From The Office

Ring, Ring...

            Me: Hello

            Catherine: Hi *****

            Me: Hi

            Catherine: It’s Catherine

            Me: I know. (No Shit)

            Catherine:…. 

            Me: Yes…

            Catherine: *****, do you know what this is about?

            Me: I’m not sure.

            Catherine: ***** were you driving yesterday at 4:50 p.m.?

            Me: Yep

            Catherine: Do you know what I’m referring to?

            Me: No, I’m not sure.

            Catherine: At 4:50 p.m. were you driving on 6^th street?

            Me: It’s quite possible.

Catherine: Do you remember an incident with another driver near the library.

            Me: I do.

            Catherine: Do you remember what happened?

Me: Yeah, I remember coming across this guy that threw a fit for no reason.  Was it that guy?

Catherine: The man who called just wanted to say that he was disappointed.

Me: He was disappointed?

Catherine: Yes *****, he was disappointed.

Me: Well, I’m not really sure how to help him.  I didn’t do anything wrong?

Catherine: He said that you went around him when there wasn’t any room.

Me: There was room because I passed him. If there wasn’t any room I wouldn’t have been able to do so.

Catherine: Do you see what this is about *****?

Me: It’s about some guy that got frustrated for no reason.  I don’t know what to tell you.

Catherine: Do you see what the problem is?

Me: No I don’t.

Catherine: *****, in Cortez we are held to a higher standard.  We have a monopoly here in Cortez.  We could lose this at any time.  We have to be careful.

By the way, there are no monopolies here in the United States.  We have anti-trust laws against that sort of thing.  And what’s with all of the repetition?  Just because I drive a cab doesn’t mean I’m slow.

March 2, 2008 – Town Drunks

            After a while of working in Cortez you start to notice a pattern.  I have recently noticed one.  Cortez is full of drunks. You know the ones that are out at the bar every day at 5 p.m. and make a total ass of themselves, or start crying telling you some personal detail of their lives, or being to drunk to remember their address, or what they’ve already asked you, or asking the same question over and over, or leaving their beer bottles in the back, or trying to smoke in the car with the windows up, and so on…

The NAVY is the worst!  They smell like B.O, don’t know which Navy base that they are trying to get to, and worst of all is when they try to pick a fight with you.  The sad thing is sometimes you see them doing the same thing every night.

                   They’re not bad people, sometimes they are quite pleasant.  Some are real nice to talk to.  “Smokey” is no exception.  We all love picking up Smokey.  He is one of the best tippers out there.  Not really sure what Smokey’s story is, all I know is that word around town is that he is an excellent golfer.  Smokey usually takes several taxi’s throughout the night, but the optimal time to catch him is on the ride home from the bar.  Smokey is quite the conversationalist but usually easily gets confused and says “I don’t know man” or “I like your style.” Statements like this have become the norm and are expected on a ride home with Smokey.  

                  Sometimes I pick up Smokey from the golf course when he is moderately sober and bring him to the bar or back to house and he will usually give about $4 dollars on a $6 dollar fare.  A pretty average to substantial tip, and on top of that he is a nice guy and we all like to pick him up.  However, if you get him leaving the bar at the end of the night he is more likely to give you a $14 dollar tip on a $6 dollar ride, which is an excellent tip.  Well, tonight I was lucky enough to pick up Smokey and give him a ride home from the bar, and boy he was on a good one.  When we got to his place he gave me $30 dollars for that $6 dollar ride.  Funny thing was that he said “Here’s $50.”  Apparently he was too drunk to count his money and thought he gave me more money than he did.  I was more than happy, I didn’t see any need to correct him and tell him he was $20 short.

            We have a long list of town drunks in Cortez.  Interestingly enough most of them live on Margarita St...

December 29, 2007 – Thank You Sir, May I Have Another!

Today I got a ticket in Cortez by the “Sarge.”  Yeah, he had a mustache, portly fellow he was.  I wouldn’t doubt he likes bologna. 

            Sarge: License and registration please.

Sarge: Do you know why I stopped you.

            Me: No

Sarge: Well you can’t make a U-Turn here, and even if you could you cant do it on a red arrow.

Me: (Staring at officer)

Sarge: Hold on.

            It’s never very promising when the cop tells you to hold on.  Just sitting there in the car, waiting impatiently, wondering if you are going to get a ticket.  People driving by and staring like you just got caught clubbing baby seals or something.   I almost always get the ticket, so that’s what I expect, but when I don’t I’m pleasantly surprised.

October 1, 2007 – The Cashier

           Every Tuesday morning I come in and pay my cab lease.  Before me sits Stanley, who lest not be confused with our idiot mechanic.  I’m sure Stanley is a nice guy, seems that way at least.  It’s hard to gather much from our conversations.  Well, I don’t know if it is actually a conversation.  I talk and he just mumbles unintelligible words and drools on himself with a glazed over look on his face, reminiscent of something Salvador Dali may have painted.

This isn't Stanley, but he looks like a raisin as well.

Don’t know his exact age, surely approaching the century mark.  I mean he’s really fucking old.  Nothing against old people, but my time is valuable, and I don’t want to spend one more minute than I have to in that office.  I was told that Stanley works here because he is bored, and that he works for free, or next to nothing.   I’ve never seen anyone count money so slow, it takes him like three minutes to count a stack of fifteen $20 bills.  Then he recounts it at least twice, or more if you don’t stop him.  I may just pay with hundreds next time.  I once brought in a dollar coin, which simply baffled him.  I’d be surprised it he had ever heard of a credit card, or if anyone in that office had heard of one for that matter.

October 4, 2007 – My Second Ticket

            Got another traffic ticket today…

            Unbeknownst to me it is illegal to make a U-turn in a business district.  Today some punk bike cop pulled me over in the Gaslamp today for just that reason. It was a pretty embarrassing.  I tried to plead ignorance, no dice.  I really had no idea that was a law, I looked all around before I did it to make sure that there were no U-turn signs.  He even gave me shit about not having a trip sheet.  I don’t bother with those, they are a waste of my time.  Every time that I take a ride I call it in to the office anyways, so they have a record of everything.  It seems redundant.

            Why do some cops feel the need to berate you about such trivial matters.  This isn’t the first time I’ve encountered an officer with such a personality.  Just give me ticket and go away, I have important things that I could be doing.  He was acting like he just pulled me over for driving on the sidewalk or something.  The worst part about getting pulled over is all the people that gawk at you as they pass by, like you are some kind of criminal – and I guess technically I am….  As a cab driver they probably already think I’m a shitbag, shouldn’t that be punishment enough?

            I later learned an interesting fact.  If you don’t have residential housing on at least 51% of the street it may count as a business district.  Turns out in Del Mar the local cops take full advantage of this.  In Del Mar there is a beach on the west side of the street and to park you often have to make a U-turn, if you are headed North at least.  Well guess what, it is a residential area, but since there is a beach on the west side of the street that leads to the ocean there are no houses there, so the highest possible percentage of the roadway that could be lined with residential units could be 50%.  I don’t think I could live with myself writing people tickets for shit like that.

September 12, 2007 – My First Outburst

            Today I had an outburst.  I feel that it was warranted.

            Dispatch: Cab 777

            Me: 777

            Dispatch: Go to the Cortez Island

            Me: 10-4

            So when I arrive there is no one in the lobby.  I just pulled my taxi up directly outside, which happens to be about 10 feet from the door.  I could have gotten out but there really was no point – I can see anyone who’s inside, and right now it’s empty.  I waited there for a few minutes in case whoever called was running late.

            Me: 777

            Dispatch: 777

Me: There doesn’t seem to be anyone here, did you happen to have any more info?

            Dispatch: Did you go inside?

            Me: There’s no one in there.

            Dispatch: Why don’t you go inside and ask.

            Me:  I can see right from my car, no one is in there to ask.

            Dispatch: Why don’t you get out of your car and go inside and ask.

Me: WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!  YOU DON’T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU TALK TO ME NICELY!

            Dispatch: (After a long pause) You can landline the office.

            Me: No, I don’t think so.

            Dispatch: You need to landline.

            Me: No, I won’t be doing that.

            Dispatch: If you don’t answer me I’m going to take you off of the board.

            Me: Whatever.

            Dispatch: You need to landline.

            Me: No, I don’t think so.

            Boy this got the office steamed.  I’ve been pretty patient with them talking to me like a child and all.  I’m a grown ass man, and you just don’t bark orders at me like that.  Especially when I haven’t done anything wrong.  This isn’t an isolated incident with the dispatcher either.  She always pulls this shit, and most drivers just bow down to her.  I’m usually really nice to her, even when she’s being a total asshole.  I don’t think “Asshole” is a term that should be strictly reserved for men anyways.

            I’m growing a little tired of these dispatchers being so rude to me.  I’m plenty polite to them.  This is bullshit.  Later in the evening I finally called the dispatcher and she told me that I can’t be talking like that on the radio, we have doctors and lawyers in our cabs.   True, those people do ride in our cabs, but do you think that they really care if the cab drivers aren’t being completely subservient to a dispatcher who is barking orders at them.  Hell, they’re probably cheering me on.

            Here’s a passage that I like from a famous movie –

“Listen, you fuckers, you screwheads. Here is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cu**s, the dogs, the filth, the shit. Here is a man who stood up.”

September 11, 2007 – A Cabbie’s Diet

             Haven’t been eating as well as I should lately…  Most of what I eat comes from a gas station or the local 7-11.  Food at 7-11 can be quite tasty, if you get it at the right time of day, when it is made fresh.  Not so much at 11 p.m.  The chicken wings are delicious when they are fresh, they would make George Foreman proud.  Does he eat like that anymore?  I know he came out with that grill of his, you know the one that drains all the fat and grease off.  Seems like a waste.  I’d suggest passing on the dipping sauce however.  BBQ is ok, but the ranch has a funny aftertaste.  It’s a little sour. 

            Same deal with the pizza, pretty good when it’s fresh.  It’s not gourmet by any means, but you can’t beat it for a dollar.  The cheese is extra stringy and juicy when it’s fresh.  The crust fairly crunchy too, a little on the doughy side, but once again people, it’s a dollar. 

            Sometimes it’s just too busy to stop in and get something made hot and I end up getting a candy bar.  I’m partial to candy with peanut butter in it.  Something crunchy can be nice too.  I don’t eat plain chocolate too often, unless it’s dark chocolate, which happens to be good for you, within reason.  I think that the office workers took that literally.   Perhaps they heard bacon, ice cream, and cake batter is good for you too, could they have been misinformed…?

            But my major vice is energy drinks.  I’m partial to Monster brand.  The low carb ones, I don’t like all that sugar, and the potential for cavities.  I learned my lesson after eating all of those little peppermints that you see at restaurants – you know the ones with the red and white swirls.  I drink like 4 of these energy drinks a day.  The 16 oz. ones!  I may drink the Rockstar ones if they are on sale, but they have to be significantly cheaper, they aren’t all that good.  Half the time they don’t even seem to give me energy, I actually feel more tired after drinking them sometimes.  More than anything, I just like the taste.  

           

            On a sidenote today is September 11.  

I hope everyone is able to take a moment and think about how our world was changed 6 years ago today and reflect upon things. And perhaps say thanks to a policeman, a firefighter, or an ordinary good Samaritan.      

September 6, 2007 – Games With The Gas

            Today Salvo left me another gas receipt.  This happens pretty much every day now.  I fill the gas, every day, till the pump clicks.  I don’t know what else I can do.  One day Salvo left me a gas receipt for $12, that’s like 4 gallons of gas.  How is that possible?

            Salvo insists that I fill up on the same pump that he fills up at every day.  For me to do that I have to go out of my way to his favorite gas station, which happens to be in a shitty part of town.   It doesn’t really matter to me if I spend an extra 7 cents on gas where I usually fill up.   Today I put in 5 gallons of gas after my shift, which came out to an extra 35 cents.   I sometimes hit the gas station right downtown after my last ride, which is actually a few cents cheaper than the gas station that Salvo insists on.

            All the daytime drivers swear by the station that Salvo goes to.   There’s one pump there that’s on a banked drive that apparently lets you put more gas in the car.  It’s true, the gas stations in Cortez do cost like 50 cents more per gallon, and believe me I don’t like to be gouged on the price of gas, especially driving for a living and all, but if I only need to put in a gallon or two of gas it just makes sense.  I’ll gladly pay a premium for convenience.  Sometimes the daytime drivers only drive like 20 miles in a day, which comes out to about a gallon and a half of gas in these cars, and then they drive 8 miles round trip to fill up in San Diego, not to mention the extra 20 minutes that they spend in doing so.

            So lets do the math.  A gallon of gas is roughly $3.00 in Cortez and $2.50 in San Diego.  Ok.  So now add each of those numbers by 1.5 (Number of gallons needed to fill the tank.)

            That’s $6.00 to fill up in Cortez, and $5.00 to fill up in San Diego.  But then there are the extra 8 miles that you have to account for by driving back to San Diego to fill up.  That’s about half a gallon – $1.25.  Add that to the $5.00 that you already spent, now it cost $6.25 to fill up in San Diego when you could have just stayed here in Cortez and saved that $.25 as well as 20 minutes of your time.  I’ve tried to convince several of the daytime drivers, on a number of occasions.  They’re just not having it.

            So yeah, there’s that.  However, after talking with at number of drivers it seems that I’m not alone in my frustrations with filling up the gas. After talking with a few of the night drivers it becomes clear that this happens all the time.  Seems childish.  Sometimes Salvo leaves me a gas receipt for $1.50.  $1.50?  Really?

            Oh, it gets better.  Sometimes Salvo doesn’t even bother filling up the gas, at least as much as he claims that he normally does, he just puts in what he claims he uses.   He has a gas formula, like many of the daytime drivers use.  Salvo claims that his taxi, which also happens to be my taxi, gets 14 mpg regardless.  I’ve tried to correct him on this as well – No dice…

Me: You know the taxi isn’t always going to get 14 mpg right, there are a number of other factors that contribute to gas mileage?

Salvo: No, I checked it, it gets 14 mpg.

Me: Right, well on the day that you checked it I’m sure that it did get 14 mpg, but that doesn’t mean that it always will get the same gas mileage.  There are variables.

Salvo:  No, it’s always 14 mpg.

Me: Trust me, it’s not.  Your gas mileage will be less if you have more stop and go city driving, if you have more passengers in your car to weigh it down, if you have less gas (hence less weight) in the tank, if you windows are down, if you’re A/C is on, if your tires are under inflated, if you leave the engine running, if you are sitting in traffic, and so on.

Salvo: I just put in what I use.

Me: Well, you obviously didn’t because I can tell just by looking by the gas gauge that you didn’t.  Just go to any gas station and pump the gas till it clicks please, just get it close, I don’t want to argue about this.

Salvo: If you go to pump no. 8 at the 25^th and Imperial gas station it will fill up the gas.

Me:  We’ve been over this already, that’s out of my way in a crusty part of town and I won’t be going there to fill up on some special pump.  That’s that.

Salvo: (Shrugs)

More often that not now Salvo just does his own calculations and replaces only the gas that he considers to have used.  Look at the mileage!

            Sometimes I don’t see Salvo when his shift ends and I get some barely intelligible note scribbled on a napkin about something or another.  Here’s the one from today.

            “Why u no fil gas.  I’m fil gas and I’m drive 87 miles.  And you leve garbich in car.  Throw out your garbich, I no want to pik up.”

            This was admittedly my fault, with the “garbich,” which I have assume was meant to read “garbage.”  I forgot an empty bag of chips in the car that fell behind the seat.  Honest mistake.

September 4, 2007 – The Office

            So as my days progress here at Cortez Cab I am beginning to realize how peculiar of a company this in fact is.  Case in point, the office…

            Every time that I step into the office it goes something like this…

            There is a large, if not completely obese woman, often surrounded by other large women, sitting on an old beat up office chair with a small portable fan desperately trying to cooling her off.  As I continue into the office I see the accountant who is older than dirt, I don’t doubt that he has fond memories of life before electricity.  As I continue my journey through the mess of papers, post-it notes, and used car parts strewn about I see more large women as well as a number of cracked ceramic floor tiles – draw your own conclusions…  Everyone is unusually upbeat, and then come the metaphors about the lord.  The ubiquitous Christian music, the religious pamphlets, and smell of WD-40 linger ever so ominously.  As I make my way to the bathroom I see a set of detailed directions for changing a roll of paper towels.

            “To replace roll of towels: Place your right hand on the rolling pin (stick that goes through the center of the towel roll) and pull all the way out to the right.  Put the new towel roll between the brackets and push the pin back through the towel roll to the left. Thank you.”

            Is this not humorous for a number of reasons?  The fact that the office needs to aid it’s employees with detailed directions in tasks as simple as changing a paper towel roll I find funny, but perhaps what is even more comical is the fact that the note was obviously placed there because at some point in time someone must have been confused by the intricate inner workings of a paper towel roll holder composed of only two parts.  I also like the fact that the office had to refer to the rod that holds the paper towel roll as a “stick” in case the employees weren’t bright enough to figure out what a rolling pin was, as well as telling them which hand that they needed to use.  The only thing the note was lacking was a recommendation that employees have their eyes open when changing the roll… 

Perhaps the funniest thing about this is how the holder from the towel roll looks like it was nearly ripped from the wall – perhaps from an overly confused and frustrated employee?  The cliff notes must not have been posted yet…

            But it doesn’t end there, oh contraire.  As I look on the other bathroom wall, next to the rusted out sink that barely turns on and the moldy fixtures, is an apparent reference to a religious publication of some sorts.

            “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.  See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you.”

            First off, is this not inappropriate in the workplace?  Second, what are you supposed to take away from this?  And third, why do I need to be reading this when I am taking a crap?

            As I wander out of the bathroom I see Bertha, who is the most obese of the office workers, hitting the scales at roughly 400 lbs.  I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a connection between Bertha and the broken floor tiles.   And Bertha is MEAN.  But there is one thing that seems to calm her…  Right now, Bertha is sitting in front of a computer listening to music about “the lord.”  Are you supposed to capitalize “lord?’  Well, I’m not going to consider it to be a proper noun.   The jury’s still out on that one.  Anyways, as I look at the playlist it seems that every song has the word “god,” “Jesus,” or “lord” in it.  She just sits there staring at an old CRT monitor from probably 10 years ago – one of the offices many antiques.  Of course, like everyone else in this nether realm that is commonly referred to as “the office,” Bertha loves “the lord.”  Probably not as much as she loves jelly donuts, pizza, or hot dogs though.

            If that weren’t strange enough, there’s the back office…  This is Catherine’s lair.  The back office is draped in carpeting and furniture circa 1972.  This place could have served as an alternate set for the Merv Griffin show if only the Merv Griffin Show had a musty smell and dozens of boxes and papers stacked many feet tall, covered in dust and strewn about in a dimly lit room.

August 29, 2007 – Big Mama

Bogna seems like nice enough of lady, although some of the more seasoned drivers have opinions of their own.  I’ve spoken with Bogna several times over the last several months and always have had nice conversations.  She immigrated from Poland a few years ago and has been driving a taxi since.  One of our Polish drivers, who suffice it to say is not particularly fond of her, calls her “Big Mama.”

            Word on the street is that Big Mama gets the better rides fed to her over her cell phone by the office.  Usually the best rides are long ones, and Big Mama gets more than her fair share it seems.   Today I got a ride at the shores that was a “personal” for Big Mama.  She was not able to take it because she was coming back from a fare to the airport and the man wanted to leave right away.  A “personal” is when a customer either calls you directly or calls the office and asks for you. 

            Well I got Big Mama’s personal today, and it was a good one.  He went all the way from The Palms condominium complex in Cortez to Solana Beach, an $88 dollar ride.  Funny thing was that he didn’t even know Big Mama.  Seems strange to me that he would request a person who he had never met.  I was actually the only contact the man had with the taxi company.  Earlier in the day I picked him up from the ferry landing where the ferry coming from San Diego drops you off and brought him to The Palms. 

            A few days ago I got a similar story from a driver named Rejinaldo.  A few months back Rejinaldo got what you might call a miracle cab fare to Los Angeles.  This is like a $400 ride.  I’ve never driven anyone to Los Angeles, actually very few drivers have.  There are drivers who have been here for 10 years and haven’t driven anyone to Los Angeles.  Point is it’s rare.

            So Rejinaldo is coming back and spots Big Mama in her taxi in Pasadena of all places with passengers!  Not one word about it was ever mentioned on the radio.  What are the chances of that?  How often does this happen that the office feeds her a great ride that no one ever hears about?  Sometimes she just disappears for hours on end.  It’s not right, I know that much.

            The drivers say that Big Mama knows the key to the dispatches hearts. PASTRIES! It seems like every few days she stops in and drops off some goodies for the office workers.  They are said to be particularly fond of her dumplings as well as a wide variety of confectionaries.  My guess it the office workers are fond of pretty much anything, as long as it’s not green, leafy, or grow in the ground.  They don’t seem to be too fond of exercise either.

August 22, 2007 – Pedicabs and the Bridge

            Downtown they have these things called “Pedicabs.”  They’re sort of like a rickshaw.  There is a guy, or girl, that is riding a bicycle in the front and there is a big booth in the back that seats 2 to 3 people.  They’re mostly seen downtown.  I haven’t seen one yet in Cortez.

            I picked up a girl in the cab a few days ago that told me an interesting story.  I don’t remember much else about the ride.  Anyways, she told me that she takes pedicabs every once in a while when there are absolutely no taxis around.  Taxi’s can be hard to find in the Gaslamp district, which is right downtown next to the convention center and the baseball field.  It’s super busy down there most weekends as it is, and if you are trying to get a cab on St. Patrick’s Day, or the 4^th of July, or New Years Eve, it’s practically impossible.  You can be waiting there for hours.  I’ve seen people still looking for cabs at 5 a.m. on holidays like this still looking for cabs.

            The girl told me that once she took a pedicab from the Gaslamp to Cortez, which I’m pretty sure you can’t do by the way because only vehicles are allowed on the bridge back to Cortez  You can go around the bay to get back but it is like 25 miles, way too long to take a pedicab.  Anyways this girl insisted that she had done so and when she arrived she was told the fare was some exorbitant sum of money.  Like $200 or something rediclious.  She said that since they didn’t have that much money her friend just fucked the pedicab driver.  I guess that’s one way to pay off the debt…

            Like I said though, the story didn’t really add up, so who knows what really happened.  You can’t even walk across the bridge to Cortez.  Every once in a while someone tries to walk across and the CHP picks them up about half way.  The Highway Patrol isn’t too happy about this, my guess is that the people are arrested.  There’s signs posted everywhere telling you that it is for motorized vehicles only, so you can’t claim that you didn’t know.  It would scare the shit out of me trying to walk across that bridge anyways with cars whizzing by at 65 mph or so.  The speed limit is 50 mph by the way but there is nowhere for cops to sit and clock your speed.  There isn’t a lot of room up there, just lanes for cars, and there’s only 5 of them. A moveable barrier is moved twice daily to accommodate traffic patterns.   In the morning there are 3 lanes going on to the “island” and  in the evening there are 3 lanes going off the “island” once the barrier is shifted.

            Whenever there is a problem on the bridge, as there frequently is, things get clogged up pretty quick.  Cars break down or run out of gas, people try walking across, accidents happen, and every once in a while people jump off.  It’s pretty rare, but people actually jump to their death sometimes.  Some live, although I would imagine it’s pretty rare, it’s like 200 feet up.  Someone told me sort of a morbid fact the other day – That the bridge into Cortez ranks 2^nd among bridges in the number of yearly suicides, only surpassed by the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.  Don’t think that’s in the tourist brochures…

August 21, 2007 – The New Roommate

            So recently I moved out of Normal Heights and into Ocean Beach.  Technically it may be Pt. Loma but one of the nicer parts, not like Loma Portal where all of the bums hang out.  Anyways, I moved in with a mutual friend.  Dave is cool and all but living with him I noticed a few things.  First, he’s a compulsive liar.  He just makes shit up, for no good reason even.  And second, he’s a slob.  Dave rarely does the dishes, and if it appears that he did the dishes they are probably just hidden under the sink, which is absolutely filthy by the way.

            Like I said, I like Dave, but you’re 31 years old, clean up your act already.  None of this is too big of deal I guess though, I am only home when I am sleeping usually.  He has friends over often, and they are quite LOUD, but I’m a heavy sleeper so whatever.  I mean hey, it’s his place too.

            Funny thing, I have been seeing these ridiculous fiction novels laying around the pad.  One in particular, “Beastmaster Circus,” has been sitting around for weeks.  It was sitting on the coffee table before I even moved in.  Truthfully I’ve never seen him reading it, and with a title like that I can understand why…

            Also, my room is TINY!  I’ve seen prisoners with nicer living quarters than this, and often times they have cable tv!  REALLY!  There’s your tax dollars hard at work people.  My room has got to be less than 100 sq ft.  I had to make a special wooden stand for my bed that was elevated like 4 ft off the ground just to store my stuff.  But the view is nice.

August 19, 2007 – What Have You Done With Our Driver?

            Passenger: Take us to 487  Mar-----

            Passenger: Holy shit, look at this Kevin, it’s a white guy.

Me: Yup.  I also have all my teeth, wear deodorant, know how to get to where you are going, and my cab doesn’t smell like old socks.  Are you sure you want me, I’d be glad to call you another cab if you would like.

Passenger: (Laughing) No that’s quite alright.  We don’t see many Anglo’s.

Me: (Laughing) I’m sure you don’t.  That’s what you might call an anomaly.

Passenger: You got that right.

Passenger: Who’s that BITCH who answers the phone anyways?

Me: (Laughing) I see you had the pleasure of meeting Julie.

More on Julie later…