Into the Unknown

One characteristic of working for The Boss is that every job tends to hold some mystery. That makes the work a little like a sausage, or McDonalds's burger meat - it's clear in general what's going on, but one doesn't always know the detail.

Nor, perhaps does one want to know, but that's a philosophic thought for another day.

After only one airport job for all of last week, the weekend was decently busy. Saturday night I was blessed with the worst gig of the six on the roster, a three-hour limousine job starting at 6:15 pm.

Three hours is the minimum time for which The Boss will rent his machines and drivers. That's fine, but by the time one has showered, shaved, dressed, driven to the office and prepared the car with ice and other bits and pieces, three hours pay is barely worth it, especially on a Saturday night. The ideal weekend night job is one with a 7:00 pm pickup and a 2:00 am finish. That is enough time to make it worth actually driving to work, has a decent starting and finish time and a high likelihood of a good booze-driven tip.

But we of the underclass aren't able to choose. We work with what we're given. Sometimes it works out okay, as did this gig - it was about as easy as it gets. A couple had a dinner to attend celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary and had me to drive them. Their daughter had booked and paid a deposit on the ten-passenger limo back in June, an unusual circumstance of itself.

Before leaving the office (which has an attached warehouse in which all the cars are kept) I had to call The Boss to pump him for some more detail. He'd told me it was a wedding, but the address on the ticket made no sense. (Attention to detail isn't high on his list of priorities.) Upon reviewing his notes, he came across the small detail that my presence with a giant automobile was to be a surprise. Important point, don't you think? I would have normally bounced up to the door at the requested time, but that would have ruined the daughter's plans.

The oldies couldn't have cared less. After a smooth, surreptitious arrival, they had no real enthusiasm for the fancy ride. I drove them two miles to their dinner in a rented hall, waited two and three-quarter hours and drove them home. From where I sat, I think they would have rather foregone the whole thing, stayed at home and ordered pizza.

Asking the wife about the secret to fifty years of marriage, she looked at me, slowly chewed her gum and shrugged.

I guess that was my tip.




Austin A-40 interior photograph from here [link]