August 30, 2008 – A Funny Story From Robert Pervantes

            You remember Robert right?  You know, the creepy guy that wants you to drive around the block in circles while he stalks his sister’s boyfriend.   This time was no different but I kept the stalking (as directed by Robert) to a minimum.  Anyways, Robert told me a funny story.

            About a week ago one of our drivers “Nick” picked up Robert and drove him to Starbucks so that Robert could get some coffee.  Robert is disabled, possibly in a number of ways, but most noticeably by the fact that he walks with a crutch.  I’m not exactly sure what ails Robert.  Robert asked Nick if he could go inside and get some coffee.  Nick wasn’t interested and told Robert that he would need to do that himself.  Sure, it would have been a nice gesture to get Robert coffee, but in all fairness, it was a little forward for him to ask directly.  Robert is able to walk, albeit with the aid of a crutch.  Were taxi drivers, not errand runners.

            At any rate about 10 minutes later as Robert is walking out he trips and falls and gets stuck right in the swinging door in front of Starbucks.  Nick just sat there and watched as Robert flailed away like a fish on the beach.  An employee of Starbucks came and helped Robert to his feet and back into the taxi.  I could only imagine the awkwardness on the ride back.

             I had heard nothing about this until Robert brought it up.

            Robert:  I went to the Starbucks the other day and tripped and fell as I was walking out.  The      driver saw the whole thing.  He just sat in his taxi and stared.

            Me: Oh, yeah.

            Robert: Yeah, and then when he dropped me off he told me his name was “Gomez.”  I know Gomez, and that wasn’t Gomez.

            This is actually a game that a number of us drivers play.  Whenever we get a fare that we don’t much care for, we tell our passenger that our name is something else.  This is typically a driver that we really don’t care for.  Me, well, I say my name is “Kirk.”  He’s probably the biggest piece of shit out here, so I try to pass all of the crappy rides on to him.  Kirk’s not as stupid as he looks though.  He’s caught onto this, and now refuses to take personal requests from people he’s not familiar with.

            Gomez, well Gomez actually likes to pick up Robert, although I can’t imagine why… 

August 24, 2008 – More About Catherine’s Credit Card Swindle

            So there has been growing discontent amongst the drivers on the topic of credit cards.  Or perhaps more specifically the forcing of drivers to take credit cards.  Catherine put out the word that this is something that we must comply with as it is something that is regulated and necessitated by the City of Cortez.  A few days ago one of our drivers talked with one of the higher-ups within the city government and asked point blank whether or not the city required taxi drivers to accept credit cards.  An answer was received – an unequivocal NO.  Catherine had told a lie.

            Shortly afterwards the driver went to the office and asked Catherine whether or not we are required to take credit cards.  Catherine told him “sometimes we need to take the iniative and step up and do things before the city requires us to do so.”  Apparently Catherine had forgotten that only a week or so prior she had explicitly stated that taking credits was a citywide requirement.

            And recently I heard something that really angered me.  Supposedly Catherine has a mission down in Mexico that she contributes too.  The fact that she operates a mission, or that it is in Mexico,  is not the issue.  What is an issue is that she obviously has a surplus of money, enough so that she is able to donate to nonessential causes such as this but refuses to outfit her company with clean, safe, dependable vehicles.  That should be priority number one.  All too often myself and other drivers have had to lose a days pay because our cab has broken down.

            I’ve already caught Catherine in a number of mistruths.  For example requiring that we pick up EVERYONE.  Everyone?  How about someone that wants to start a fight, doesn’t have money, doesn’t know where they are going, someone who just shit their pants.  No, we most certainly do not.

July 17, 2008 – Lois’s Condition

Lois's Lair

          Today I had an interesting conversation with Jefferson about Lois.  You may remember her, the lady with the garbage house.  Jefferson explained how he was dissatisfied with riding with her, as all of the other drivers are, and how much of a pain in the ass Lois was.  Turns out Lois had a pain in her ass as well – which she felt the need to tell Jefferson about.  It wasn’t so much a pain as a condition perhaps.  Lois thought Jefferson would enjoy having her explain her current affliction – the one about her bloody diarrhea.  Surprisingly Jefferson wasn’t interested, or hungry anymore for that matter.

http://corruptionincortez.blogspot.com/2011/12/june-4-2008-garbage-house.html

July 5, 2008 – Getting Kirk Excited

            Today someone was getting Kirk all excited again.  This seems to happen at least once a week.  Sometimes more.

            The reason that no one likes Kirk is because he’s an a-hole.   There was a new guy that started last week and tried to introduce himself.  He walked up to Kirk’s window.  Kirk just ignored him.  He didn’t even flinch.  Jack (the new driver) was in disbelief.

            Jack: I tried to talk to cab 83 (Kirk) earlier and he didn’t say anything.           

            Me: Yeah, that’s Kirk alright.  I wouldn’t bother with that guy.  Nobody here likes him.

            Jack: He didn’t even acknowledge me.  I know he heard me, his window was open.

            Me: Don’t worry, he’s like that to everyone.  He’s crazy, none of us like him.

            Jack: Thanks for letting me know.

            So anyways, like clockwork, one of the drivers began to pick on Kirk.  This usually happens when he comes into work for the day.

            Kirk: Cab 83

            Julie: Cab 83

            Kirk: 10-8, 10-30 (Back in service, send me an assignment)

            Julie: Go to the Vo-----(Click, Click, Click) and pic-------- (Click, Click, Click)

            Kirk: 10-9 (Repeat)

            Julie: Go to th---(Click, Click) and pick u---(Click, Click, Click, Click)

            Kirk: 10-9!

            Julie: Go to th----(Click, Click, Click, Click, Click…)

            Kirk: Some queers playing with the radio again.

            Julie: What’s wrong with you!


            The sad thing about Julie's question is that it wasn't directed at Kirk...  In her eyes Kirk wasn't the problem.

            I was sitting with another driver when this was all happening, waiting for a fare.  We both got a chuckle.  Calling people “queers” is a favorite past time of Kirk’s.  It’s his favorite insult for sure.  Other insults include calling people “Princess,” “Raghead,” “Asshole,” “Coward,” “Their highness” or  “Sissy white people” - just to name a few.  All of our customers and fellow drivers get to hear this as well because it is broadcast throughout our radio network.  This is all ok in Catherine’s eyes since Kurt is a “good worker” because he works 12-hour days EVERY day of the year.  A sociopath, but a “good worker” nevertheless.  But boy, if I forget to wear my black pants, well then, that’s a disaster.

You all remember Kirk right?  

July 4, 2008 – The 4th of July in Cortez

        I have mixed feelings about working on the 4^th of July.  The money is good, but it’s oh so frustrating.  Traffic everywhere, no parking, drunks everywhere, you name it.  Especially here in Cortez.  I hear that 500,000 people come here alone to watch the fireworks.  You get a good view from the bay.  Actually a great view – if you’re lucky enough to get to the front and get a seat.  Sure beats watching them from National City.  Or you may know National City by something else – “Nasty City, “National Tragedy”, “National Shitty”, “Nasty Shitty” and so on, you get the point.  If you’ve been there you know what I’m talking about.  Consequently we get a lot of rif-raf from there, Chula Vista “Chulajuana” too for that matter.  Don’t send me the hate mail, they were nicknamed that long before I moved here.

            It takes a good 30 minutes to get from one side of town to the other (which is only about 2 miles).  It’s a mess.  I had to take a break after a bit today.  For an hour I took a break and shot some photos.  There was absolutely no street parking.  I just parked in an alley.  It was hard to get a good spot but I made due.  Had time to shoot a few photos, not my favorites, but they were fun to shoot.

            After that I was back to work.  Traffic had subsided a bit, but was still a disaster.  When it was all said and done at 2:45 a.m. I had made $370 in fares in about 10 hours.  No one had tried to fight me.  No one had thrown up in my cab.  Everyone had paid the fare, except this super drunk guy who tried to pay with a credit card for a $6 fare.  That one was on me, it’s just not worth the time to mess around with a credit card when it’s that busy, it’s actually better just to pick up another fare believe it or not.

June 18, 2008 – El Mejor Strikes Again

            Julie: Franco, what’s your 20?

            Julie: Franco!

            Franco: In the lobby.

            Julie: I sent you to the Navy base!  Where are you?

            Franco:  In the lobby.

            Julie: You’re supposed to go to the main gate, where are you!

            Franco: Right here, in the lobby.

            It didn’t take much to piece this one together.  If nothing else because there’s no “lobby” at the main gate.  Just a parking lot.  Franco had been spotted shortly before picking up a ride that another driver had been sent for.  If only his English skills were better he might have been able to offer up a better explanation.  Stating that he was “In the lobby” just wasn’t cutting it.  Shortly thereafter Catherine got on the radio to ask about Franco’s current whereabouts.

            Catherine: Franco

            Franco: Yes

            Catherine: Franco, what’s your 20?

            Franco: Right here in the lobby.

            Catherine: (With a frustrated sigh) What’s your 20 Franco, there’s no lobby at the main gate. 
            Where are you?

            Franco: Uh, I’m here, in the lobby.

            It was at this point that the office gave up on the situation.  It was obvious that Franco hadn’t gone to where he had been sent to, and it was also obvious that he was nowhere near any lobby.  Things were tough for Franco the rest of the day…

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.

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…

June 2, 2008 – The Hidden Compartment

            Thump, thump, thump…

            That’s never a good sign.  I exited the taxi and took a look around.  It was a flat tire, as I had suspected.  I really hate changing tires, especially on these cars.  They’re filthy.  With tires like these it’s no surprise that there are blowouts. 

            So here I am, staring blankly into an empty trunk.  Oh sure there were things in there, just nothing useful.  There was Windex, some old oily rags, and a musty smell.  Oh yeah, there was a shitty old spare tire – but once again, nothing useful.  I pull out the spare, which was pretty low on air, not much better than my flat tire I might add.  But there’s a problem, there’s no jack.  That’s sort of an important step – to jack up the car.  To my surprise there was a tire iron.  I call the office.

            Me: Hi Julie, is Catherine there?

            Julie: Ugh, hold on.

            Catherine: Hello

            Me: Hey Catherine, it’s *****

            Catherine: What’s the problem?

            Me: I have a flat tire and there doesn’t seem to be a jack in the car.

            Catherine: Did you check the trunk?

            Me: …Yes Catherine, I looked in the trunk.

            Catherine: Did you check in the side compartment?

Me: Well, I’m not exactly sure where that is but I’ve looked everywhere in the trunk.           

Catherine: I’ll come over.

So this took a good 45 minutes or so.  It probably took so long because she let Earl driver her over.  I’d never get behind the wheel with that guy, some of Cortez’s residents feel that way as well.  Yeah, he’s still driving people around in his late 80’s.   Unreal.  And what the fuck was with her asking if I had looked in the trunk?  I just wanted to say something like “No, I’ve just been looking in the glove box” or “I already checked my pockets, I don’t know where else it could be.”  Give me a little credit.

So Catherine walks over to the trunk, grabs a felt panel, and peels it back.  No shit, there’s a secret compartment in the trunk.   I never would have found this.  Turns out that I’m not the only driver who has had issues looking for the jack here.  How am I supposed to know about this.  There’s no marking, labeling, or visible seam to hint that there is a hidden compartment.  Catherine just gave me a funny look as if I wasted her time, and truthfully I did, but if she had just explained a little better this all could have been prevented. 

Luckily I had brought a change of clothes with me – namely a black shirt.  Catherine has adopted a uniform policy where drivers can wear black pants and a white, black or yellow collared shirt.  Not many of the drivers follow this.  I usually wear t-shirts because they are more comfortable.  I’ve never once heard a customer complain about what I was wearing.  Catherine claims that customers complain about how I am dressed all the time.  Really, a clean t-shirt and jeans?  I drive a taxi not a limo.

I’m not sure exactly who it is, but it’s become fairly obvious that Catherine has drivers that keep and eye on things for her.  Most likely one of the daytime drivers, there’s quite a few ass kissers during the day that try to get brownie points from the office.  They mainly keep watch for unimportant things like who is wearing the required company uniform.  The office used to send one of the workers out on surveillance missions with a camera to take a picture of anyone who wasn’t wearing the “official colors.”  There are some drivers who wear the same black shirt, or white or yellow for that matter, for days on end.  By the third or fourth day they are covered with b.o. and stains from eating on the road.  This is all ok though…

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...