Do You Need A Job? How's My Driving?

A couple of nights ago, Thursday, I believe, I picked up a very nice lady named Sheila at a local grocery store. As I normally do, I opened the trunk by pushing the "Trunk Open" button on the dashboard, and then got out of the car to help her move her groceries from the cart to the trunk. After all the bags were out of the cart, I noticed a Kit-Kat candy bar in the bottom of the cart, and pointed it out to Sheila. She told me that it must have fallen out of an open pack, and said I could have it if I wanted. I thanked her for it, commenting that I was a little hungry, as I hadn't eaten my dinner yet. She said she'd make me a sandwich, if I liked roast beef, after I helped her to take her groceries into her house.

Now, unless a person specifically refuses help from me, I always assist them in getting their luggage, groceries or whatever out of the cab and into their hotel, house or wherever. Not only does the cab company expect me to do it, I think that it's really the right thing to do, even though I know that in some cases it won't increase the size of the tip.

You might be asking how I could possibly know if this courtesy could negatively affect the size of a tip if refused, or increase it if granted. After all, how could I possibly know how much a person planned to tip in either circumstances? Well, most of the time, you'd be right, as there is no way I could possibly know what part of any tip was for the safe ride, and what part was for schlepping baggage, short of asking the person.

But, I stand by my statement: sometimes the extra help does not increase the size of the tip. The evidence? Believe it or not, some people just don't tip, regardless of the circumstances. There have been times when I have moved dozens of grocery bags up as many as three flights of stairs, and have only received the amount that was on the meter when the car stopped, even though I am legally entitled to collect for any additional time charges that may accrue prior to the car being emptied. The meter might say $5.00 when we stop, and $7.00 when the car is empty. Many's the time I've only been given a fiver for my efforts.

So now you might be tempted to say,

"Ah, hah! What you said was, 'I know that in some cases it will not increase the size of the tip.' This is a predictive statement. How can you predict that you won't be tipped?"

It's easy. If the car stops, the meter says $5.00, and the passenger hands me a fiver before I even open the trunk, I know I'm not going to be tipped. I didn't have to predict that I won't be tipped; I can see that I haven't been tipped.

Some people, no matter how much I've gone "above and beyond," just won't tip. But I don't take it personally. I figure that they probably never tip anyone. The rat bastards.

But I digress. It wasn't my intention, when I began this story, to go off on a tangent, and rant about how some people don't tip. I'm sorry it happened. I just felt an overwhelming need to vent. Thanks for your patience. I feel better now. May I now finish the story in the manner that I had originally intended? Okay, here goes.

Now, notice that Sheila said she'd make me a roast beef sandwich after I helped her carry her bags to her door? Wasn't she being somewhat presumptuous, assuming that I'd carry her bags for her? Why, the nerve of some people! At least she could have asked, rather than just assuming...

I'm just kidding! I'm not going to go off on another rant. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Actually, she'd already told me she was going to give me an extra five dollars for helping her, even before she mentioned the roast beef sandwich. So that's that. On to the rest of the story.

After I helped get the groceries into her house, Sheila invited me to sit at her kitchen table, and proceeded to assemble a sandwich for me. Actually two. On dark rye, with cheese, mustard and mayonnaise, just the way I like it. Accompanied by a nice, big, cold glass of milk. She made one for herself, and joined me at the table. We had a pleasant conversation while munching our sandwiches. The roast beef was delicious, and really hit the spot! It was a nice change of pace for me, and I was grateful for Sheila's hospitality. We talked for a few minutes after the sandwiches were but a pleasant memory, and then I said that I really had to go back to work. She walked me to the door, and then to my cab.

But, just like my tip rant, this wasn't supposed to be a story about roast beef sandwiches, milk, and a nice conversation. You probably already knew this by the title of the story. It just turned out that way. The story of Sheila's hospitality is my way of compensating for my little rant about tipping. And also to explain how is was that Sheila came back to the car.

Because she came back to the car, Sheila was able to see the rear bumper. What she there prompted a short discussion which lead to the idea for the story I had intended to tell, several hundred words ago. So let me tell that story. You might think it's funny. Then again you might not. Either way, you'll know in just a few seconds, because it is a short story. I promise. I think it's best if I just start over. Here goes.

The other day, a passenger of mine, Sheila, pointed out to me the incongruity of a couple of bumper stickers on the back of my cab. One said "Do you need a job?", while the other said, "How's My Driving?" Each one had a phone number on it, but they were different numbers. Obviously, the cab company wanted the public to give feedback on my driving, as well as attract potential new cabby's, or other employees. I'd seen the stickers, but never really gave them much thought.

Sheila thought that it was funny that they were side-by-side. She said she doubted that a job seeker would call to complain about my driving.

"Why's that?", I asked.

"Well," she said, "What if they did report you, and then got the job? I think they'd be afraid of what you might do if you found out they snitched you off!"

I thought about it for a moment, pondering the possibilities. I told her that maybe she was right, I never thought of it that way. We both chuckled at the absurdity. But then the cynic in me took over. I had a much more sinister view, and told her so.

"Or maybe," I said, "someone might call the complaint line, with a horrendous, but phony, complaint, just to get me fired!"

"Why in the world would someone do something like that?", she asked.

"Don't you see? To create a job opening. To make it easier for them to get a job. Driving my cab!"

We both laughed. It's funny, don't you think?

I guess you had to be there.

By the way, not withstanding my earlier comments about people who don't tip, I really don't care if any particular person doesn't tip me. The generosity of others helps make up the difference. I'm not saying it's okay not to tip your cab driver. I'm just saying it's no skin off my nose. But remember this: if you stiff me this time, be prepared for what might happen the next time I'm assigned as your driver. I'd bring something to read, if I were you.

I've got a standing offer to come over to Sheila's anytime I want a sandwich.

Sincerely,

The Cab Guy