Thursday, November 5, 2009

Bomb Canada


Midweek limousine runs are a bonus. They're even better if it's a bachelorette party, especially if the bride is under age sixty. Hey, it's Florida. Ya gotta look on the bright side when there is one. I only realized how old we are around here when a friend visited recently. The first thing she said was "Where are all the people without silver hair?"

Anna Maria pickup at 7:00 pm, then dinner at St Armand's, then Siesta Key for hijinks; that was the plan. All simple enough on the surface, but the happy face soon developed cracks.

First, the money. The Boss always quotes an hourly rate for a minimum of two hours. So when the bridesmaid organizer stated she'd been quoted a fixed seven hour price for a dollar figure substantially below normal, I smelled a grifter. A Canadian grifter, which makes it worse, because I like Canadians.

Second, the female card. Sweetheart, you are cute, but this is business. Claiming you're just being a ditzy girl might work sometimes, but I've seen way too much of that variety of manipulation. I'd rather drive off and do without the money. But I phoned The Boss to resolve the money problem and he compromised. Great.

Third, the adding heads game. My limousine is legally limited to ten passengers. When you book, and say you only have eight, we assume you're as good as your word. When thirteen lovely Canadian ladies turn up, forgive me for blanching a little. I could have brought the bigger vehicle - at no more cost because it's midweek - but no, it just gives you a reason to complain about the lack of room.

Fourth, the extra time. Of course you're having fun dancing and drinking, and you naturally pray for the night not to end. That's possible, at forty dollars per half hour, and, believe me, I can last longer than you. But when you start to say that you're running out of cash, expect not to find me accommodating.

Fifth, the urination. Picture Gulf of Mexico Drive, Longboat Key. The time is 3:15 am. Every ten minutes, two or three of my 'ladies' want a comfort stop. When I point out that it is indeed Longboat Key at 3:15 am and that there are no public facilities available, swearing at me doesn't help.

Sixth, the tip. My unfailing good humor, smiling accession to every request, relentless cleaning, obsessive polishing, general professional demeanor and finding of private spots to piss apparently don't count. Exactly fifteen dollars.

What's that, about seventeen-fifty Canadian? Thanks. I'll just go clean up your puke now.


Also published here.

4 comments:

savannah said...

one question, sugar. if the boss compromises on the price, does that mean y'all get less than normal? xoxo

Ponita in Real Life said...

Those girls must have been from Toronto.... We Winnipeggers aren't that cheap.

Wombat said...

Possibly, yes, Sugar. If the price goes below a particular threshold, we drivers move down a tier in hourly rate. Apparently we're only allowed to earn a certain percentage of the total. :-P In this case, I earned the full amount. Thankfully.

Bingo, Ponita. They were from Toronto for the most part, although there were a couple of Saskatchewanese (Saskatchewanistas?) hiding in amongst 'em. We have other Torontonian customers, and they are all very generous, which made it all the more jarring.

There are tightwads everywhere - I don't mean to pick on my Canuck friends.

Wombat said...

True enough, Nitebyrd, but they work often enough that the owners of said accoutrements keep trying to pass them off as real currency.