Flat Rates and a Newbie Lawyer

In the cab world, generally, when you work the really, really late hours, your customer base is radically different from the daytime sort. They tend to be wackier. That's why I prefer to work when the sun is in the sky. It helps preserve my sanity.
Last Monday evening I stayed out late to have a little fun at the Lone Butte Casino, south of Chandler on the Gila River Indian Reservation. After being there about an hour and a half, and losing some of my hard earned scratch at the blackjack tables, I figured that it just wasn't my night, and decided to go home. I cashed in my remaining chips, said goodbye to some of the dealers I knew, and headed for the parking lot.

I had come to the casino directly after work, and so I had my cab with me. I usually have my cab with me when I'm not working, for two reasons. Firstly, I'd rather run up the miles on the company's car, rather than my own; and secondly, I can go to work at a moment's notice. I don't mean to imply that I'm tied to the job, far from it. But if a personal customer should call, and wanted to put fifty dollars in my pocket for an hour of my time, then I wanted to be able to jump on it.

Anyway, I got into my cab, started it up, and began the thirty-minute drive back to my house. Just for laughs, I turned on the computerized dispatch system, just in case there were any calls close by. As luck would have it, there was a call between the casino and my house, about five miles away. I went ahead and bid on it, and received it.

"Cool," I thought, "I'll be able to recoup a little of my losses, then go home."

It took me only about eight minutes to drive to the customer's house, but in that time he called the dispatcher two times to check on my ETA. Not a good sign. At least I knew he still wanted a cab. But he was very impatient. Impatient people can be a handful of work, to say the least. I really didn't want to deal with any kind of crap from this guy. I hadn't even met him, and I already didn't like him.

Arriving at the pickup address, "Peter" was standing outside, practically hopping up and down on one foot. I really hoped he didn't have to pee! Rolling down the window, I asked him the obvious:

"Are you Peter?"

"Sure am!"

Peter started to get into the car, and without even giving me his destination address, asked me the most insulting question you can ever ask a cabbie:

"Will you give me a flat rate of forty dollars?"

My usual response to the flat rate inquiry is a resounding, "NO!" But he had stated a dollar amount, without a drop address; maybe the fare would be less than forty. I had to check before saying no.

"Well, where do you want to go?"

"Bell Road and Tatum Boulevard."

"Sorry, no, that's about a fifty dollar fare."

"Well, you should do it for forty dollars, 'cause I'm a big tipper!"

"Yeah, I know all about those big tips. As a matter of fact, I can feel you trying to put your big tip in my bunghole. It's a fifty dollar fare, and if you want to go, then I want the money up front!"

"I'll pay you when we get there!"

"No, you'll pay me here, or you'll never get there. Let's not even start the whole 'don't you trust me?' debate, because, after you started our relationship with the whole flat rate issue, no I don't trust you. Pay up, or get out!"

Not very appealing customer service, I know, but he wasn't a very appealing customer. And I was on a bit of a short fuse. Trust me, you had to be there. But after a few more seconds of verbal sparring, Peter finally gave me a hundred dollar bill as a surety against the fare. I turned on the meter, and we were off.

As it turned out, Peter, although he was a little drunk, was an okay guy. I say this even after finding out he was a lawyer. His idea of a compliment was to call me the biggest prick he had ever met. I didn't take offense, because coming from a lawyer, it is indeed praiseworthy to be a considered a prick. Plus, he told me up front that he considered being called a prick to be a compliment, so he thought he was being complimentary.

I told him I wasn't offended; he'd know right away if he ever stepped over the line with me.

"How so?", he asked.

"I'll pull over and let you walk. With no refund."

"My God, I so admire you! You are the biggest prick I've ever met, maybe could ever hope to meet!"

Are you starting to get the picture of what late night customers can be like?

"Well, Peter, you're not so bad yourself. But you need to work on your prick skills, 'cause frankly, you suck at it. I know of at least half a dozen lawyers with better fare negotiation skills than you have. Hell, at least two of them would have convinced me that not only should I pay the fare, but I should give them thirty-three percent of the action to boot. You've got a ways to go, kiddo. But I mean that as a compliment!"

"It didn't seem so complimentary to me."

Yeah, but it was okay for him to call me a prick, just because he thought calling someone a prick was a compliment.

"And by the way, cut me some slack on the negotiating thing, will ya? I passed the bar exam, but haven't even been admitted yet. I'm still learning."

"Fair enough."

Well, we had a pretty nice conversation for the thirty minutes or so it took to get him to his destination. And I really did begin to like Peter, even though he was a lawyer. He had a good, solid, if somewhat drunk and narcissistic, head on his shoulders. He probably will make a pretty good lawyer someday.

Pulling up to Peter's destination, the meter showed fifty dollars and fifty cents. I decided to cut him a little slack.

"Well, the fare is fifty dollars. You gave me a hundred, I owe you fifty."

"No, just go ahead and give me forty. Keep ten for yourself. I told you I was a big tipper."

"And so you are. Never doubted it for a moment!"

And so he was. It certainly was how odd, though. After all, he tried to cut his fare, and my wage, by twenty percent; but having failed in that endeavor, he tipped me to the tune of twenty percent. I'll never figure out people and their money issues.

As Peter exited the cab, I gave him my card, saying,

"Call me anytime. Hell, I might even give you a flat rate next time!"

"Hey," he said, "I take back everything I said about you being a prick. You're a hell of a nice guy!"

"Just joking, Peter. I never cut my fares for anyone. It hurts the wallet way too much. But thanks for calling me a nice guy! It means a lot to me, coming from a newbie lawyer."

"Prick!", he exclaimed, while laughing. "Thanks for the ride, I really enjoyed it!"

"They always do," I thought. "They always do!"

See what I mean about the overnight customer base? You just never know what you're going to get.

Thanks for stopping by.

Sincerely,

The Cab Guy