May 9, 2008 – CHiPs

           And the award for worst penmanship goes to…

            Well, it goes to this son of a bitch.  I wish I could read his name.  I’d like to write him a nice letter.  Actually he was very nice, I’m just bitter about yet another ticket. 

            I gave him a good laugh.  I was singing in my car as I was speeding down the freeway, a deserted freeway I might add, in the middle of the desert.  Just outside of El Centro, the shitty little hick town that it is.

            Officer: Do you know why I stopped you?

            Me: Yeah

            Officer: Do you know how fast you were going?

            Me: More or less.

            Officer: Ok

            Me: So what are my options with this?

            Officer: Well you can pay your ticket, or you can call the number on the back            

of the ticket here and they will arrang---

Me: Sorry, I was hoping to get traffic school.  I was wondering what my options were for that.

Officer: You won’t be eligible for traffic school at the speed I clocked you, but I didn’t sign the ticket yet.  I could put that you were going 10 mph slower.  That would make you eligible…

Me: That would be much appreciated.

Officer: You saw me back there didn’t you?

Me: No, I didn’t see until you pulled me over.

Officer: Yeah, I thought you saw me when I clocked you.  It looked like you shouted “Fuck..”

Me: No, I was actually singing.

Officer: Yeah, I was behind you for a full mile or so.

By the way, “appreciated” is an underused word nowadays.  Give it a try, and say it with sincerity.  People love to be appreciated.  Perhaps I realize this now more so since I work in such an underappreciated profession.  Taxi drivers keep people from killing other people on the road, from getting DUI’s, providing, at times, the only way for people to get from one point to another. 

Catherine has this policy where drivers have to tell her about any encounter that they have with law enforcement regarding moving violations, any violation involving a vehicle for that matter, regardless if the driver is engaged in company business or not.  Why would I do that?  What benefit would that serve?  I’ve talked to drivers who say that Catherine just tries to use this as leverage when they get into trouble - for whatever.  She told me that it is so that she knows all of the facts and that she can be more effective in defending us when the City of Cortez wants to revoke our taxi permit.

That’s absolute nonsense.  Catherine has no pull with the courts.  She can’t even corral a few rouge employees.  All that the city cares about is that you don’t have too many points on your license.  I don’t know the specifics, but I think it may even have to be suspended by the California Department of Motor Vehicles before you aren’t able to drive a taxi.  Bottom line is that I got this in my personal car and I’m not going to tell her.  I’m sure that I’m not the only one.  

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...

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!

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 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.

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…

August 18, 2007 - The New Cab Partner

             For the last week or so now I have been paired up with a new cab partner.  Salvo is his name.  He seems nice.  He said that he would call me if he leaves early too so I can come in early and make a little extra money.  Well dressed and polite as well.

August 16, 2007 - The $300 Ride

            As I drop off my passengers downtown two drunks hop in, a man and a woman in their late 20’s to early 30’s.

             Me: Hey, sorry guys, I can’t pick up here.

             Man: It’s cool.

             Me: No, It’s not cool, I can’t pick up here, I don’t have the proper permit.

             Man: Come on man! I’ll give you $300.

            Me: I’m sure you will, but I really can’t pick up here.

            Man: Nah, it’s cool.

            Me: NO.  I REALLY CAN’T.

            Man: No, it’s fine, just take us.

            Me:  Yeah, whatever. Alright fine.  Were are you going?

            So after he informs me that we are going to Pacific Beach, which is a decent ride, especially at the end of the night when I might not get another fare, I decide to take them.  Before driving off I look around to make sure no one noticed.  It’s dead and there are no cabs around to pick these guys up anyways, and since they refuse to get out of my cab I might as well take them. 

            So I hear all this commotion in the back and low and behold they are screwing right in the back seat.  I really don’t care as long as it stays in the back seat and they don’t make a mess, although it is a little awkward...

So we are approaching our destination and they are still busy in back so they give me the go ahead to just drive around.  Then they want to go to Ocean Beach, by now the fare is $47, nothing to scoff at.

             Man: Thanks

             Me: Hey, no problem.

             Man: Hey can you wait for me?

Me: Where are you going afterwards? (If they are only going a short distance afterwards I usually don’t wait, in cases like that it usually isn’t worth my time.  Anyways, it’s like 2 in the morning by now and I’m exhausted.)

Man: To Rancho Santa Fe

Me: Sure, I’ll wait.

Then the man starts to walk with the woman into her house.  Often if someone asks you to wait for them, especially at night, it is good to ask them to pay what is currently on the meter, and sometimes the waiting time in advance.  Sometimes the people don’t come back out because they decided that they didn’t want the cab anymore, or fell asleep.  Either way, that leaves me holding the bag, so to speak.

Me: Hey, you have to pay me.

Man: Ok. Here’s $20

Me: No, you have to pay what’s already on the meter, and leave me a deposit to wait.

Man: (Agitated) I have money.

Me: I’m sure you do, but it’s just procedure.

Man: Fine. (As he hands me a hundred dollar bill) Don’t fuck me.

Me: Hey, if you’re going to Rancho Santa Fe, I’d be more than happy to wait for you, but sometimes people go inside and don’t come back out.  Requesting a deposit is something that I do for everyone.  Nothing personal.  Waiting time is $20 per hour, so for $53 you have roughly 2 ½ hours, which is plenty of time.  If you don’t give me a call or come out before the meter hits $100 I’ll drive off and take your hundred with me for my time.  Here’s my number.

Man: Thanks, I’ll be about thirty minutes.

Me: Ok

Sure enough he came out about thirty minutes later and decided to go to Rancho Santa Fe.  The fare was $127.  He gives me two more one hundred dollar bills.

Me: You already gave me a hundred.

Man: I know.

            Son of a bitch actually gave me $300, that’s a $173 tip.  That almost never happens. When it’s busy or there are no cabs around, people will tell you almost anything to get a ride.  No mess in the back seat either, everything went off without a hitch.

August 11, 2007 – Games on the Radio

            Often times when I come to work there are drivers improperly using the radio.  It can be comical, frustrating, or both. 

            

            I usually come to work about 3.  I have noticed that the drivers who work in the morning are a little more, well cutthroat, for lack of a better term.  I have begun to notice a pattern.  There are a few drivers in particular that are not well liked, some are outright despised.

            One of the drivers Jorge, has been attempting to call in for call in for the last 3 minutes or so.  Every time he tries to get through on the radio someone cuts off his transmission. 

            Jorge: Cab 132

            Dispatch: Who’s calling?

            Jorge: Cab 1-------

            Dispatch: Who?

            Jorge: Cab 13------

            Jorge: Cab 1--------

            Jorge: Cab 13------

            Dispatch: Who’s calling!

            Jorge: Cab 1------

            Jorge: Cab ------2

            Jorge: Cab ------32

            Dispatch: I can’t make out your number?

            Jorge: You guys have fun?

            Jorge: Cab 1-----2

            Jorge: Cab ------2

            (Unknown 1): “Farting noises”

            (Unknown 2): “Burping noises and laughing”

            Jorge: Cab -----3-----

            Dispatch: Stop it! Let the driver talk!

You get the point.  This goes on for several more minutes.  Jorge doesn’t have a cell phone so his only way to contact the office is to get through on the radio, which obviously isn’t working, or to find a pay phone.  This is a frequent occurrence with Jorge.  Not many drivers like Jorge, and from what I understand for good reason.  I was talking with one such driver just yesterday.  Jefferson was his name.

Jefferson is probably one of the best drivers that we have here at the company.  Intelligent, articulate, honest, polite – lets just say that he doesn’t fit the mold…

Anyways, here’s the deal.  When a customer calls the dispatcher looks on a board with a series of pegs with corresponding cab numbers.  The pegs are placed in the order that the drivers had dropped off their passengers and once again became available for calls.  The purpose of the pegs is so that the dispatcher can easily look at the board and see what driver cleared with their passenger first and is first up for calls from the dispatcher.  Jefferson dropped off his passenger 30 minutes ago and he is now first in line.  Jorge dropped off 5 minutes ago so he is sixth in line for calls.

Dispatch: Cab 407 (Jefferson)

Cab 407: Go ahead.

Dispatch: Go to 1459 Main Street.

Cab 407: 10-4

Several minutes pass…

Cab 407: Cab 407 (Your first transmission always starts with your cab no.)

Dispatch: Cab 407 go ahead.

Cab 407: There’s no one here.

Dispatch: Are you sure, they just called?

Cab 407: Yeah, the neighbor said a van taxi came by and picked them up.

Dispatch: I don’t know what they are talking about, none of our vans called in a ride from there.  Were they sure.

Cab 407: I’m not sure, I’ll wait here for a minute, can you leave me 1^st for calls.

Dispatch: (Sighs) 10-4

Meanwhile, Jorge has already picked up Jefferson’s passenger and failed to mention it to the dispatcher.  Normally Jorge would have been able to get away with this.  That is if he would have taken a second to turn his radio down.  As Jefferson relayed to the office that he was at the address with no sign of the person, the passenger overheard the conversation and realized that the cab that he was riding in wasn’t the one that had been sent for him.  After the passenger was dropped off he called the office to let them know that he had indeed gotten picked up, by Jorge.

Dispatch: Cab 197. (Jorge)

Cab 197: Go ahead.

Dispatch: Land line (Make a phone call) the office.

            Of course it wouldn’t be that easy for Jorge, first he had to find a pay phone…

August 9, 2007 – Items Given to me by Passengers

            Today a jolly old bloke from England gave me a gift, and a nice tip to boot!  He was off to the airport when he realized that he had been given a bottle of vodka that he never got around to drinking.

            

            Passenger: Do you want this to bring home?
            Me: Really, are you sure?

            Passenger: Yeah, I can’t bring it on the plane anyways.  Here, take it.

            Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.  It won’t go to waste.
            Passenger: I’m sure it won’t.

            Bestowed upon me was a sealed bottle of vodka.  Absolute brand vodka.  Pretty good stuff.  Not top of the line, but nothing to scoff at either. Especially for free.   

             This was given to me as well, this was all that was left out of my six pack, of beer that is, the other one disappeared long ago...

August 8, 2007 - Car Washes

By now you if you have been reading my blog you know what my stance is on car washes.  I think it’s reasonable to have the car washed periodically, but it doesn’t need it every week.  Although maybe my perspective is a little skewed, I probably only wash my car once every 15 months or so.  Catherine’s been on my ass about it though so I guess that I’ll do it to appease her.   I’m sure it’ll really make all those different shades of yellow my taxi has shimmer.

            Doesn’t that look beautiful.  Would it have taken too long to tape off the edges of the license plate so that no yellow paint would get on it?