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 2, 2008 – Robert Pervantes

             I picked up this real oddball earlier, and to say that he was simply an oddball, well, that would be an understatement.  His name was Robert.  “Robert Pervantes.“

            I was sent to 571 R Street in the alley to pick him up.  In Cortez there are alley addresses and street addresses.  Generally the more well-to-do people have street addresses.  The alleys are reserved for smaller guesthouses and apartments primarily.  Typically younger people who work in the service industry here in Cortez.  Resturants, marinas, hotels, etc.  Not many corporate folk.  And occasionally weirdos…  Today was no exception.

            Me: Hi

            Robert: Um, hello.

            Me: Where are you off to?

            Robert: Um, can we just drive around for a bit?

            Me: Sure, but I have to give the dispatcher a final destination.

            Robert: But could we just drive around.

            Me: Sure whatever.  I’ll just make something up, but you’ll have to pay the meter. 

            Robert: Ok

            This already struck me as a little strange.  Typically people don’t like to pay for cabs, which aren’t cheap by the way, to just drive around.  This guy’s sure seems like a creeper.  It would be exciting to get a fugitive.  I’ve already had several geriatrics, it’s be nice to mix it up.

            Robert: Can you go right here.

            Me: Sure

            Robert: (A block later) Could you take another right?

            Me: Sure

            Robert: (Another block later) Could you take a right here?

            Me: …Ok

            Robert: Slow down.  Is that light on?  Was there anyone in there?

            Me: I don’t know.

            Robert: Do you think he saw me?

            Me: No, it’s dark out.

            Robert: Are you sure?

            Me: Yes

            Then the conversation really started to get weird.  He pulled out this camera with pictures of his sisters boyfriend on it, which appeared to have been taken surreptitiously, and asked for my take on them.

            Robert: So do you think that this guy is hot?

            Me: I wouldn’t know.

            Robert:  Oh, me either.

            Me: ………

            Robert: Can you make a left here?

            Me: Sure

            Robert: Can we make another left, and then the left after that too?

            Me: Sure Robert.

            Robert: Look the lights on in there.  Can you see anyone in there, do you think that’s my sisters         boyfriend?

            Robert: So you don’t think he saw me?

            Me: Well, I have one of my regular customers that I have to pick up, we should probably get heading back.

            Robert: Oh, ok.

            Me: (A few minutes later) $6.80.

            Robert: Ok, I just have $7.00.

            Me: That’s fine.

            That’s quite a coincidence  He had exactly (minus the 20 cents) what the meter was?  What if we just kept driving, as he had requested, and the meter came out to $9.00?  What would he have done then?   Would he have brought exactly $9.00 with him.  I really don't care if people tip me or not.  Many people think that we do.   

            You’re really rolling the dice if you are taking cabs without having enough money to pay the fare.  That’s something that might get you beat up.  I’m pretty well natured, some of the other drivers not so much.  Vincent’s a good example of that.  Vinny probably would have stuck an icepick in him.  After all, that’s his weapon of choice, or so he says…

            From the sounds of things his sister wasn’t too fond of him either.  Could it have been because here old pervy brother Robert keeps hitting on boyfriend?

July 1, 2008 – Just Another Day at Cortez Cab

         Business as usual....

June 16, 2008 – Gomez Sr.

             Now that you know a little about Gomez Jr., it’s only fair that you know a little about Gomez Sr. as well.  The father and son duo.  They both live down in Tijuana.  I believe Gomez Sr. raises chickens.  He also does work on the internet, pay per click marketing/advertising or something like that.  He only comes in to Cortez to drive cab when he needs to supplement his income.  I forget, he may share the cab with his son.

            I like Gomez Sr.  He strikes me as a pretty honest guy, which unfortunately seems to be a rarity here at Cortez Cab, where dishonesty runs rampant.  I like Gomez Jr. as well for that matter.  Gomez Jr. is a bit of an oddball, constantly espousing his beliefs about how the government is plotting against us, watching us, controlling us.  Just the other day he was pushing some documentary made by a couple of kids.  “Loose Change” it was called.  Some far left extremist psychobabble, reminiscent of Michael Moore.

 

            Gomez Sr. told me a funny story today.  He told me that Catherine had some issues with his dress.  Who knows what he was wearing, probably jeans and a t-shirt or something.  That’s what most drivers wear.  Well Gomez wanted to make a statement, he wanted to look sharp.  Gomez picked out a nice dress shirt, buttoned it up, and put on a tie.  And what did he pair that up with might you ask?  Well, he thought that would look nice tucked into a pair of sweatpants.  He said that Catherine just took a look at him, waited a second, and told him that he looked “absolutely ridiculous.” For once she was right.

            This was better than the story that Gomez Sr. told me shortly after I first met him.  We were talking about the job and our backgrounds, probably about business that day.  I don’t remember the specifics, but I do remember the vivid details that Gomez Sr. offered about his taste in women.  Not sure how the topic was sparked, although surely by Gomez Sr., but he began to tell me about how he liked “girls with big hairy bushes.”  Oh no, that wasn’t all.  He told me how he liked them wet, and how he loved to eat them, and just rub his face in them.  What was most astonishing was how cavalier he was about the whole thing.  How he just segued into the topic, from something completely unrelated.  I had no rebuttal…

            I don’t think that would be something that I would share with someone who I’d probably met briefly only once before.  Probably not at work.  Probably not at all.

           This is another one of Gomez Jr's videos.  Gomez Sr., his father, comes in at around the 5:00 mark.

May 29, 2008 – The USS Richard Millhouse Nixon

            Recently we have had some visitors come to Cortez, in the form of an aircraft carrier – The USS Richard Millhouse Nixon.  Well, as you may have suspected, it’s not really called the “Nixon,” but that’s what were going to call it. Capiche?  I digress.

There she is "The Nixon."

            The Nixon is here due to a set of unforeseen circumstances.  My understanding is that the Nixon was sailing somewhere around South America when a massive fire erupted in one of the ships compartments.  The ship survived, but there was extensive damage.  For some reason or another the Nixon was docked here in San Diego to be repaired.  I understand that it will take months, and millions upon millions of dollars.  What caused this fire might you ask?  Oh, well it was a sailor(s) that were smoking in a room near flammable substances.

            I don’t mind though, this surely will bring good business for weeks to come.  Rides to the strip clubs if nothing else.  Those sailors love their strip clubs.  I’ve actually compiled a list of the most commonly requested destinations by sailors over the last 2 months – in order of occurrence.

1.     Horton Plaza Mall (San Diego)

2.     The Little Club Bar (Cortez)

3.     The Yardhouse (Downtown San Diego)

4.     Déjà vu (Pt. Loma Branch)

5.     Hooters (Downtown San Diego)

6.     Dave and Busters (Mission Valley)

7.     The Gaslamp (Downtown San Diego)

8.     AT&T Store (Downtown San Diego)

9.     Starbucks (Cortez)

10. Mc P’s Bar (Cortez)

I admire their simplistic lifestyle.  

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.

April 1, 2008 – Our Shitty Old Cars

             My car is in the shop today.  No surprise there.  In the meantime I have a loaner to drive.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that I have something do drive but I’m amazed that some of these things are still on the road.   This one’s a baby, relatively speaking that is…  Only 128,480 miles, although I wouldn’t be surprised if the odometer had already rolled over.  Hell, I can’t really complain, they don’t have me driving that shitty old station wagon anymore.  You know, the Griswaldmobile.

            As bad as these cars are it’s fun to talk to the other drivers about what they had to drive in the past.  Makes these things look like Caddilacs.  Doors falling off, wheels falling off, you name it.  Maybe I don’t have it so bad.  Driver safety doesn’t really seem to be an issue however.  Just look at the tires, the steel is poking through.  Our boss thinks that used tires are a good investment.  She buys tires that only have like 10,000 miles left on them, so typically they are good for like two months tops.  Of course she has to pay a shop to put them on and balance them each time.  She doesn’t pay much though, and it shows.  Usually when I pick up my car from the shop it is littered with wood screws, duct tape, and mismatched spray paint.  I'm surprised it isn't on fire.

Pretty sure when you get a new set of tires you get an alignment.  Although the tires really aren’t new so maybe Catherine thinks that alignments aren’t needed.  I bet if Jesus told her that the cars needed an alignment she would have a change of heart.  I’m surprised she doesn’t try to bless our cars.  Well, not that I know of.  Not much surprises me here anymore…

            I like the cigarette burns in my seat and the rusty gear shift.  Nice touch.  I really wish that she wasn’t such a pain in the ass about washing the car.  Will people not notice that it is a piece of shit if it just went through a car wash?  I should roll the windows down when I bring it through the wash.  I’ll notice something – my wallet being lighter.  Not that it’s too heavy after working here.  Guess it’s been 8 months or so now.  The other day Catherine told me that the car needed to be detailed.  Fuck that.  I could think of a hundred better things to spend $50 dollars on.  None of them involve Jesus. 

March 29, 2008 – Tourists

            I’m often amazed by some of the questions tourists ask…  There are a number of rumors in Cortez but here are two of my favorites.

            Cortez has a bridge that connects it back to San Diego, which is an alternate route from the point where Cortez connects on the south end by way of a state highway.  Anyways, somewhere or another someone decided to start a rumor that if the bridge ever fell into the bay that it would float.  Really?  This two mile long fifty foot wide mass of concrete and steel weighing hundreds of thousands, if not millions of tons, would just float in the water???

            Ok, lets just roll with this for arguments sake.  Suppose that the bridge fell into the bay and was floating there like some bathtub toy, blocking access out of the bay, and one of Navy vessels needed to make their way out to the ocean for whatever reason.  They would be shit out of luck right.   Nope, that’s where Cortez’s exploding highway comes into play.  Some people believe that there is enough dynamite laid under the state highway, which happens to be like a quarter mile wide, to blow a gaping hole in it to let ships pass through to the ocean.  Not to mention that this opening would have to be hundreds of feet wide and dozens of feet deep to give a proper berth for such huge ships…

            Well, those are my two favorites, but I heard another absurd one from a tourist today.  Apparently one of the employees on the ferry that shuttles tourists from San Diego to Cortez is telling people that Cortez has a zero percent crime rate.  Really, that’s fucking unbelievable.  Literally.  So lets assume that this crime rate is averaged throughout the year, thus the city would have no annual crime.  I’m amazed that this isn’t national news, a city with no crimes at all!

P.S.  - You're welcome to make fun of my shitty drawings all you want.  Therein the charm lies.

March 25, 2008 – Showdown With The Sarge

So once again, here we are, mono a mano – me and The Sarge.  He turns at me with an surprisingly imposing glare, despite his short stature.  His mustache is neatly trimmed.  Braun?  Shall I ask him?

  I nod politely.  I admire his panache. 

Today is the day I prove my innocence.  I stroll in looking quite dapper myself.  I dress up and put on a tie.  It was a real struggle putting on a tie this morning, it’s been years since I wore one.  I had to use a diagram that I found on the internet.  And even then it was only occasionally.  Judges notice these things.  Dressing up shows respect for the court and what it represents.  Me, well I just am interested in winning my case.   This day has been months in the making.  It can be rather intimidating contesting the officer in court, I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t think I had a shot.  But I brought pictures, diagrams, and one hell of a compelling story.  This all weighs in as well.  Here is a person who is willing to take the time to not only dress up, drive to court, wake up at 6:30 a.m., take time to take and develop pictures, draw diagrams, and take time off work to come to Chula Vista of all places.  I was already off of work, I work nights, but the judge probably didn’t notice. 

So I explained how the officer’s view was obscured by the curving, dimly lit road – State Road 57.  I explained to the judge that I was headed South and turned to the East just as another vehicle was headed West and turned North.  All at the same intersection, all at the same point in time.  The amazing thing was that these events happened nearly simultaneously with two nearly identical late model sedans giving the impression that I illegally took a u-turn instead of heading eastbound.

Then the pictures and the diagram came out.  The Sarge threw his hands up in disbelief.  The sea was angry.  He made it a point to correct some of my sketches more mundane details.  I held my composure and stated my case.  No theatrics, no bravado, just a well planned defense.  I came out on top.  I won.  The Judge did have one request however – my trip sheet.  I didn’t have it with me, but I agreed to bring it in at a later date.  I was informed that my case would be dismissed upon my submission of this.

The Sarge stormed out of the court after quickly gathering his papers.  He was not happy in the least, but that was to be expected.  If I was worried about hurting his feelings I never would of came.  But that’s not something that much bothered me.  I’ll have to be more careful from now on, and do my best not to garner any additional scrutiny in Cortez…

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...

March 1, 2008 – The Coat Hanger Car Burglar

           Tonight I locked my keys in my car.  Wouldn’t be the first time.  I usually keep a spare in my wallet in case of situations like this.  My spare key however has strangely disappeared…

            I was lucky enough to find a coat hanger near by so I gave it a shot.  I have an older model Jeep and the locking mechanism isn’t all that complicated.  There’s no alarm either which is good, I’d hate to have that going off as I try to jimmy the car lock open.  So I unfold the coat hanger, bend a small hook on the end of it, and slide it into the door between the window and the frame.  I don’t have to break into my car often so naturally there’s a little trial and error.  This isn’t the ideal tool for doing this either so things aren’t going as smoothly as I had hoped.

            My Jeep is parked on a side street and there is almost no street lighting which complicates the process, not to mention making things look a little suspicious.  I’m not worried though, it’s my car after all.  I would imagine most people in Cortez call a locksmith when they lock themselves outside of their car.  Not me.  Locksmiths are expensive.  A locksmith probably costs $50 or so, and quite possibly more here.  I only made $85 today and I’d like to keep that.

            So after 20 minutes or so a patrol car speeds down the street and boxes me in.  And guess who it        was.  My buddy, “The Sarge.”

            The Sarge: Stop right there, get up against the car.

            Me: Ok

            The Sarge: What are you doing out here, are you trying to break into this car?

            Me: This is my car, I locked my keys inside.

The Sarge: Krinkle right, I remember you. (With a big shit eating grin on his face)

Me: Yep

            The Sarge: You stay right there.

            Me: Feel free to run the plate, you can see my keys in the ignition.

            The Sarge: Oh we will.

            The Sarge: Lets see some ID.

            Me: It’s in the car.

            The Sarge isn’t happy right now.  His partner that he is with looks like a rookie - asking a lot of questions but trying to appear professional.  I’m not fooled.  They both have this look on their face like they’ve just stumbled upon a big one. 

            Ok, now lets look at the facts.  If I were a car burglar why would I come to Cortez to break into a shitty old Jeep?  And why would I fumble around in the dark with a coat hanger for 20 minutes?  Was this my first caper?  Wouldn’t I bring some of my own tools with me?  Doesn’t it seem odd that I would come to a city that is crawling with overzealous cops, a city that I work in, and come and try to break into cars?  Equipped with a coat hanger of all things?  Am I fucking MacGyver or something?  That guy could probably get into a locked car with nothing more than a napkin and a large flat rock.  

           A city where I’m driving around all day in, working in the public sector.  That doesn’t strike me as very smooth.

I’m sure that they had the best of intentions, and had every right to be suspicious and inquire about what I was doing here, but after 10 minutes or so wouldn’t they be able to piece it together?  These guys couldn’t find their way out of a wet paper bag.   I’d sure like to meet the detectives that work here, I sure hope that I never have to file a report for anything.  After another 10 minutes or so they were on their way and I was left to my own devices once again.  There was no offer to help me of course, nor was I expecting one at this point.   From what I’ve seen professionalism doesn’t seem to be one of the departments virtues.

After tinkering with the lock another few minutes I was in and on my way home.  I was quite careful with my driving though as I was a marked man…

February 17, 2008 – Creepy Dennis

           Pretty quiet night tonight.  Every night we get a lull in business between 11:30 p.m. and 1 a.m. so the drivers gather around and chat and line up our cabs for potential customers.  Some of us are more personable than others, and then there’s drivers like Dennis…  A few minutes ago a couple came up to Dennis and asked for a ride.

Customers: Hi

Dennis: (Says nothing)

Customers: Are you available? (This is an honest question, there are several cabs lined up in the area, and it’s possible that Dennis is just taking a break.)

Dennis: No, I’m just here for my fucking health.

Customers: Excuse me?

Dennis: I said I’m just here for my fucking health.

Customers:  Ok…  Nevermind then.

The customers ended up taking Dennis later that night - I can only imagine how awkward that was…  Some of our customers refuse to ride with Dennis for some reason or another.  Most likely because he’s a prick. 

Frank Menderson is one of them.  He’s a character himself but that’s another story.  My best guess is that Dennis tried to fondle Frankie at some point.  Dennis is a creepy old man who has been driving cab for like 15 years who is seen by other drivers frequenting transvestite bars outside of work.  He’s in his 60’s, and looks like your typical sex offender.  Quite like Kirk actually.  Something off of Broadway I believe, I think it’s called “Chee Chee.”  I have no idea what goes on in there and honestly I don’t care to.  Hey whatever, to each his own.

If nothing else it looks like total shithole – don’t think anyone is going to debate me on that one… Just another wack-job that Catherine keeps around because he works a shift that no one else wants to work.  

February 2, 2008 – Our Awful Dispatchers

           It’s 9:40 p.m. and Julie will be leaving in 20 minutes.  What a relief.  Everyday except Sunday Julie comes and dispatches from 4 p.m. to 10 p.m.   No one likes Julie. To say that she was simply mean would be an understatement.  Julie is presumably in her mid to late 60’s with beady little eyes and granny glasses with freckles and an ass so wide you couldn’t fit it on a park bench.  From what I understand she was a secretary for like 20 years, don’t know how she ended up here...  She could have easily passed for a school bus driver in some little hick town.  Every town has one of those, you know the ugly fat bus driver who screams at the kids.  I digress.

"Julie"

            Not that any of that really matters, it just seems fitting…  The reason that none of us like Judy is because she is constantly SCREAMING, and if that weren’t enough she is TERRIBLE at her job.  To work for her is simply DREADFUL!  Imagine being yelled at all day for mistakes that you never even made.

Julie is a woman with a mans ego.  Under no circumstances have I ever heard her apologize for a mistake that she made.  NEVER.  I have never in my life met a person as stubborn as Julie. There have been numerous studies over the years that suggest that there is a correlation between temperature and aggression.  Perhaps it isn’t really Julie’s fault.  After all, the office seems to be too cheap to use air conditioning.   Although the office wasn’t too cheap to add an addition on, that is before they were forced to tear it down due to a tip to the city.  Pity, a permit would have solved all of that.

When Julie leaves the problems don’t cease however, this is when the overnight dispatcher comes in.  His name is Mendoza and he is every bit, if not more, inept than Julie.  We don’t get screamed at though, so things are much more relaxed.  Problem is that Mendoza is dumb, I mean really, really, fucking dumb.  This guy couldn’t solve a puzzle with 9 pieces.  He would have been a good Walmart door greeter.  There’s speculation amongst the drivers that Mendoza is high and/or drunk at work, which would explain a lot.  I once caught him peeing in the bushes just down the street from the cab office at 6 a.m.  I don’t mean discretely either, right next to the trolly in Old Town.  Yeah, you know the one that shuttles the tourists around…  Welcome to San Diego!

January 6, 2008 – The Office Part 2…

            Today I made another trip to the office, which I am becoming less and less fond of…

I am beginning to wonder if there is any sort of accounting system in place - everything is such a mess and seems to be covered in dozens of multicolored sticky notes.  I have yet to see a calculator…  Perhaps even more strange than that is Catherine’s hiring practices.  All of the workers appear to be either grossly overweight, drug addicts, completely inept, have been to jail (usually more than once), love Jesus - or some combination thereof.

            Kirk, who has been here for like 10 years is a prime example, if not the epitome, of one of our awful employees.  Whenever anyone questions him about his behavior they are challenged to a fight in the alley.  I talked to a customer the other day who said Kirk called her mixed race son a “half breed,” President Obama a “N***er” and the mayor of Cortez a “G**k.”    All in the same conversation!  I have to imagine that this isn’t an isolated incident.   From what was relayed to me by Meg, Kirk’s fare, the conversation went something like this –

            Meg: Can you bring me to The Community Center?

            Kirk: (No Response)

            Meg: Could you bring me to the Community Center please?

            Kirk: I guess.

Meg: So what do you think about Obama, it’s amazing to finally have a black president huh?

            Kirk: Only in America we would have a N***er as a president.

            Meg: What!

            Kirk: I hate this shitty town and it’s G**k mayor.

            Meg: I have a mixed race son you asshole.

            Kirk: Well that’s your problem huh.

            Meg: Fuck you.

            I don’t remember where exactly the other slurs factored into the conversation, but they were surely there.  I have no doubt that Kirk said any of this, and why would a 60 something year old woman make that up anyways.  I wish that I could remember the specifics, I was in awe that this actually happened.  What employer in their right mind would retain an employee like this?  Imagine Kirk working at Target, perhaps at the customer service desk…

            Customer (A Man): Can I return this shovel?

            Kirk: Why?

Customer: Well, it wasn’t exactly what I was looking for.  I just want to return it, I think what I actually needed was a flat shovel, maybe a spade?

Kirk: Maybe you just weren’t strong enough to use it?  We don’t have any shovels here that little girls like you might like.

Customer: What did you say to me? Where’s your manager.

Kirk: You sound like a coward, why don’t we settle this in the alley like men?

Based on my observations, this is a realistic depiction of how Kirk would most likely behave.  And how long do you think Target would keep someone like this around?  Right, they wouldn’t.  He would be fired on the spot.  Hell, the police may even be called. He might even be banned from ever stepping foot inside of another Target again.  But no, not at Cortez Cab.

I tried to convince Meg that our company owner is well aware of this and refuses to do anything about it.  I explained to Meg that if she wanted to do anything about rotten apples like this that she would have to go directly to the city to file a complaint, that complaining to the company would be useless.  I got the feeling that she was over it at this point.  It’s a shame.  Really nice lady, I’ve driven her a few times. 

One of the night dispatchers also shared a story about Kirk.  Actually more than a few… Apparently Kirk picked up some teenage girl and her boyfriend here in town and brought them to one of the restaurants. After an argument, which was quite possibly started by Kirk, he called the girl a “little bitch” and threatened to beat up her boyfriend.  There are a number of people who won’t even ride with him. Fellow cab drivers, customers and myself are baffled as to why Kirk still works here.  Maybe that isn’t all that fair to just assume that Kirk was an asshole for no reason.  Maybe one of his passengers did something to offend him – like asking how his day was, or what his name was.

            This company is more like a circus than anything else.   “Come one come all!”  “See the Worlds Heaviest Woman, The Worlds Oldest Man, The Worlds Creepiest Cab Driver!”  And lets not forget the ringmaster, Catherine. 

December 10, 2007 – Kirk

            And then there’s Kirk… 

Boy, this guy’s a piece of work.  Where do I start…  Well, Kirk is a fifty something, fat, bald, lonely loser who works EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THE YEAR. He works every fucking day, unless the car is broken, or he’s in jail, which happens from time to time.  Once Kirk disappeared for about 5 weeks.  Everyone was baffled.  No one could figure out why he hadn’t been coming in.  When one of the drivers inquired about his whereabouts the office told him that Kirk had taken a vacation.  Not too long afterwards Bertha spilled the beans, well not literally, she would never spill food.  Not on purpose at least.  Now that I think of it, she probably spills things all the time, having those fatty fingers and all.  They look like bratwursts, and just like bratwursts they’re always covered in grease.

Turns out that Kirk did a little time for beating up his landlord.  Or so the story goes…  Kirk is just another angry bitter old man.  A complete asshole to everyone, and for no reason.  It’s like he feeds off others contempt for him.  I just can’t fathom it – going to work with the sole purpose of alienating all your co-workers.  This is a man who should not be working with the general public.  He should be working the night shift at a Panamanian box making factory.  Ok, it doesn’t have to be in Panama, or even be a factory that assembles boxes, but you get the point.

I heard a funny conversation on the radio today between Kirk and another driver.

Kirk: Cab 300.

Dispatch: Who called?

Kirk: …ab  30…

Kirk: Cab 3….

Dispatch: Who’s calling!

Kirk: Some queer’s playing with the radio.

Unknown: Wha Wha Whaaaaa.

Kirk: Why don’t you say that to my face.

Unknown: Wha Wha Whaaaaa.

Kirk: Oh what a coward.

Dispatch: Let him talk!

People always give Kirk shit.  Exchanges like this on the radio have become commonplace.  Kirk doesn’t have a cell phone either.  Really?  Who in this day in age doesn’t have a cell phone?  When the drivers are especially persistent with interrupting Kirk’s transmissions on the radio he is forced to find a payphone and call the office.  Just like Jorge – see a pattern emerging…? 

 This isn't Kirk, but the resemblance is uncanny!  And just like Kirk, he's a psycho too.  I'll have to get a picture of him and do a side by side comparison.

I’ve noticed that there are really no penalties handed down to drivers for bad behavior.  The office doesn’t seem to punish anyone, at least for bickering on the radio with other drivers.  What surprises me is that the office has no idea why certain drivers are routinely taunted.  Catherine seems to think that Kirk is such a hard worker and some great guy and only gets picked on because he makes more money than everyone else.  That may be true, the latter at least.  He does work like 80 hours a week. 

December 6, 2007 – Mr. Banning

           Julie: Cab 34

           Cab 34: Cab 34 Go ahead

           Julie: Pick up Mr. Banning at 1820 in The Palms

           Cab 34: …I just got a flag

           Julie is probably the only one that doesn’t realize that is bullshit.  A “flag” occurs when an individual on the street waves down a taxi as it is driving by unoccupied.  Cab 34 just pretended that he had a customer so that he could avoid the call.  As a transportation service we cannot refuse to pick up customers who telephone the cab office for a pickup.  This is one of the stipulations of the City of Cortez sets for granting us a taxi medallion to work within its jurisdiction.  Or so I’m told…  As often is the case, whenever a call is dispatched to pick up an undesirable customer drivers come up with some type of excuse.

            Julie: Cab 777!

            Cab 77: (Slight pause after debating whether or not to answer…) Go ahead…

            Julie: Pick up Mr. Banning at 1820 in The Palms

            Cab 777: …10-4

            None of us like Mr. Banning.  He is a grumpy old man in his 90’s who is quick to point anything and everything that he doesn’t agree with.  Lets not sugar coat it, he’s an asshole.  As would be expected Mr. Banning is growing increasingly senile and forgetful in his later years.  In addition to being rude, he feels the need to continuously instruct us as to where the most popular Italian restaurant in Cortez is, as if we didn’t know. 

      

Every once in a while Mr. Banning compliments our driving and we are graciously rewarded with a $.25 tip for our congeniality and driving abilities.  This would be a great tip in the 1940’s.  Unfortunately like many of Cortez’s aging residents, Mr. Banning hasn’t adjusted to inflation and hasn’t yet realized that you can’t get a movie, soda, and popcorn for a quarter anymore.  Truthfully, I can’t name anything you can get for a quarter… 

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.

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.