Thursday, April 2, 2009

Limousine detective



Prior to every trip I attempt to find out a little more about the customer. I ask The Boss if they're young or old, whether it's a birthday or an anniversary, if they're drinkers or abstemious. Being prepared makes a big difference, because if I can arrive at the door and announce:

"Hello Mrs Krebopple, congratulations on the anniversary of your splenectomy,"

it makes a good first impression, which will translate into a more relaxed night at a minimum, or a big tip at best.

Last night was a complete mystery, a relatively late-booked four-hour limousine run for eight, to a local Mexican joint, and possibly some nightlife after.

Rolling up to the house, I look for clues. It's in a decent neighbourhood, but the garden looks unkempt. (Like them all here thesedays, what with the drought and all.) Hmmm, there's a BMW X5 in the garage, that's decent money. Then again it might be on the never-never from the boom times. On balance it's a good sign.

So I knock on the door, and a woman cracks it open.

"She doesn't know you're here" she stage whispers pointing to the interior of the house, "We'll be out in five or ten".

"Okay", I whisper back "You take your time, I'm here when you're ready."

Still none the wiser, I check the ice, the radio, and the airconditioning in the limo again, and stand in the shade waiting. And waiting. And waiting. That's really what this job is: a waiting and cleaning gig.

Eventually three of them emerge: the mom, a hot-looking but over-made-up yummy mummy, her seventeen-year-old daughter, and the eight year-old son. It's the girl's birthday, and the mother is about to take her and a bunch of her friends out.

I can't help wondering where the father is, and, why do mothers allow their seventeen year-old daughters to dress like strippers?

Despite my misgivings about a limo-load of teenagers, they were just fine. In fact, they were cleaner, tidier, more polite and in better cheer than a lot of older folk, so kudos to them. I'd even go so far as to say they were sweet, which is a lot coming from me.

So despite the bum rap, my experience with teens has all been good.

Now watch me get through prom season, Tazer at the ready.

3 comments:

Lakota said...

Wombie fighting off promsters.... heeeheeee! ummm - sorry. that image totally wiped out the first part of your post.

Did you go to your prom Wombie? Did you ride in a limo? Inquiring minds want to know. :D

savannah said...

who tips? surely not the kids...i wish you well, sugar! xoxo

Wombat said...

Prom? In Orrrstralia? Nah, Lakota, I was too shy for that kind of out-there activity. Retreated to a book that night if memory serves.

As for a limo....I didn't know how to spell limmo...lemous...llamois....fancy taxi until recently.

So no, even those of my friends social enough to do so didn't hire one for the "Year Twelve Dance". Dear old Adelaide isn't quite that kind of a town.

I would like to hear about yours though....

Well, in this case, the mother did tip, and rather nicely too, Savannah. Kids can sometimes tip. It's quite amusing to imagine them raiding the piggy bank for a few pennies for their trusted driver.

Excuse me, I need to go work out to ready myself for prom week.