The Scabbie Cabbie

Hey, how are you doing? I'm glad to see you! Hop in, let's go for a ride. Don't worry about the meter: this one's on me.

The company that I work for has a contract with the local Greyhound Bus Station for one of its brands (I'll just refer to this brand as XYZ Cab) to be the exclusive supplier for on-site cab service. What this means is that any driver of an XYZ Cab, if driving a properly authorized XYZ Cab unit, and in possession of a special ID, may sit on the cab stand at the Greyhound Bus Station, and wait in line for customers. All these conditions must be met in order for the driver to wait on the stand. If for some reason he forgot his ID, or doesn't have one in the first place, he may not be there, even if driving an XYZ Cab. Drivers of the company's other brands may not use the stand. Likewise, drivers from other companies may not use the stand.

As a matter of fact, if they're not "stand qualified" they may not even be on the property at all, unless dropping someone off; in this event, they must leave as soon as their passenger exits the cab. If, in the event that a Greyhound customer calls another company to pick them up, that driver may enter the property in order to pick up that particular customer, but must then promptly leave.

Greyhound, because they own the property, has the right to control who has casual access to their property and customers, and dictate the terms of cab driver qualifications. They recognize that some people may not like XYZ CAB, so of course, those people have the option of using other brands, if they initiate the call. I think this is a good system. XYZ Cab is one of the largest brands in the Phoenix market, and one of the most reputable. We who are stand-qualified drivers self-police the activities of ourselves, and others who may attempt to circumvent the rules of the site. We do this to protect our company's investment in their partnership with Greyhound, and to ensure a high-quality level of service. Our drivers, on average, have not just good, but excellent, driving records; our cabs are properly licensed and insured; and our cars are maintained to very high standards. I wish the same could be said of every other cab company in the Phoenix Metro market, but it can't.

I happen to think that the customer has the right to choose any cab company they wish. If not mine, fine - bust out a quarter for the phone, and call some other company. Just remember, that other company that charges twenty or thirty cents less per mile may not maintain its cabs as well as we do. Or carry proper insurance. Or ensure that they have safe drivers. When the newspapers report problems in the taxi industry, our company is typically not named as having any violations (usually, any noted violations are minor ones), and is routinely held up, with another large company, as a model of the industry.

That's what your extra twenty cents per mile buys: safety and reliability. And more than that: a certain level of security. Some of the "scab cabs" that try to sneak in are even cabs at all. They're just private cars owned by private drivers, who may not even have valid driver's licenses, or even any kind of insurance, let alone a proper level of coverage.

So why did I bring all of this up? To provide some background, context if you will, for the real story: The Scabbie Cabbie.

This last Sunday afternoon, I was first in line down at the Greyhound, waiting for a fare. To help prevent scab cab "scooping" (which is when an unauthorized cab attempts to steal a fare), the first guy in line parks his cab right in front of the door. (Up to an additional three other cabs may park about twenty-five yards away in specially marked spaces.) So there I am, waiting for the opportunity to make a little scratch, when I notice a cab from another company (which has had numerous Weights and Measures violations) parked at the far end of the lot. This is absolutely unacceptable, but I'm not one to jump froggy right off. I flashed my lights at him several times, waited a minute, and flashed my lights again, thinking that he'd realize that he'd been spotted, take the hint, and hit the road. He didn't.

Generally, I would have preferred to let the Greyhound security officer deal with the infraction, so that it wouldn't look personal, but I couldn't find him. So I walked over to the other driver, to remind him he couldn't stay on the lot, whatever the reason. (Now that I think of it, this last isn't strictly true: it is possible that a cabbie might bring someone to the station to pick up some baggage, or a friend; that customer would then exit the cab, conduct their business, and then get back in the same cab and leave. If this was the case, the driver would leave his meter on to show what he was doing. If anyone complained, all he'd have to do would be to go get his customer, and have that person confirm his story.) I noticed that he was on his cell phone, but his meter was not turned on. To be polite, I waited for him to finish his call, then I started to talk.

"You know you can't stay here, don't you?"

"Fist-you, I'll do what I want. I dropped a guy off here, and I'm waiting to see if he can get a ticket," the scabbie cabbie says to me. "I have the right to drop people off, or pick them up if they call me!"

Two things here. In the first place, I didn't appreciate that the very first word out of his mouth was "Fist." But I maintained my cool. In the second place, unless the ticketing machines are broken, you can always get a ticket. As a matter of fact, this is true even if the machines are broken: Greyhound staff will hand-write a ticket if need be. So this was a pathetic lie: I know the guy isn't coming back. But I maintained my cool.

"Of course you're absolutely correct on those points," I reply. (I actually did phrase it that way. Sometimes I'm subject to "putting on airs.") "The problem is, you dropped him off, and until, and if, he calls you back, you have to leave. I know you know this. Please leave the property, and wait off site for his call."

He has to leave: it's not just a dumb rule. This is to prevent people from just walking up to him, whom he can then claim as "the customer I just dropped off." Besides Greyhound wants it this way, and, like I said, that's their right.

"Fist you, you can't tell me what to do. I go where I want, and do what I want! Now just take your fat ass back to your cab, and leave me alone.

Again with the F-bomb, and a personal attack. Now it's on!

"Okay, fine, I'll just have security handle this, you immature, foul-mouthed little child."

I turned to walk away. He started his car, and proceeded to leave the lot, but I guess he couldn't resist a parting shot.

"Fat Ass!"

Okay. It's true, I have a fat ass. I don't deny it. I'm not proud of it, but it doesn't really bother me. The way I see it, if you know I have a fat ass, it meant you looked at my fat ass. Like they say in show business: a bad review is still a review!

"Thanks for noticing. I appreciate it!," was my parting shot.

You might think that would be the end of it, but if you've read any of my other stories, you know it isn't.

As luck would have it, I immediately secured a fare, and left the property, turning right onto the street, and then moving over to make a left turn. Scabbie Cabbie was several cars ahead. He must have noticed me, because after making the turn, he moved into the right hand lane, and let me pass him on the left. I expected an uncomplimentary remark as I passed, but didn't get one. After I passed, he pulled in behind me. I could guess what he was doing, and you probably can, too, especially if you know, as some of you do, that the phone number of the company complaint line is pasted on my rear bumper.

Within a few minutes, my dispatcher asked me to call the Road Supervisor. The coincidence was exquisite. It had to be about the scabbie cabbie. I was not disappointed.

After informing me of the complaint, in which the other driver characterized his own behavior as polite, and mine as foul-mouthed and out of control, he asked if I had any response.

So I told him my side of the story. You know what I mean: the truth.

Well, of course he believed me, and told me not to worry about it.

"I figured it was something like that," he said. "But I have to investigate every complaint, even if on the face of it, it smells fishy. You did absolutely the right thing. Just do it that way every time, and we'll be able to keep things under control down there!"

The final score at the end of the game? Your Cab Guy: 1; Scabbie Cabbie: 0!

A win always feels good.

Well, here we are, back where I picked you up. Now you know why the ride was free: you didn't actually get anywhere!

Thanks for listening, please exit on the curbside, and I hope that you have a nice day!

Sincerely,

The Cab Guy