Just Perfect

Photo credit.

When The Boss calls at 1:30 am, it's never good news. He isn't calling to see if we'd like coffee and a slice of pizza, nor is he calling to tell us what a good job we're doing.

He's calling for one reason only: he's awake, and he's angry.

The usual deal is that I hand the limo company's business card to the customers so they know how to contact us. I try to do this both when I first meet them, AND when I drop them at their first destination.

On one side is the regular phone number; on the other is a space for each individual driver's number. I always hand out this card and POINT OUT to the people that the number to call is the one on the back labeled WOMBAT. Then I beg them NOT to call the number on the front, which, as I explain, calls The Boss.

You can put together the pieces. Drunken/stoned/stupid idiots will dial the number with the biggest print.

At the same time as The Boss is calling I receive two other calls from my Surbuban Gangsta wannabes, demanding that I return to collect them. Having previously explained that I cannot hang around on the street near their club, I ask if they're ALL TOGETHER.

You can get the gist of the answer from the 'click'.

Sigh. Nothing new in all this. Fifteen too many drinks, out of control egos, logic circuits burned out by the desire to get laid - this isn't going to be pretty. Of course when I lob at the front of the club, only a handful of these wankers is there. My backup plan is a parking lot I know of just around the corner, so I head there. It's one way in and out and only as wide a table-tennis table, so it requires a twenty point turn to get pointed the right way, but eventually we're settled, ready to head out.

Then the screaming begins.

Turns out that one of the young 'men' has tainted another of the young men's manhood with a stray drunk comment or two, and they're now bashing the shit out of each other next to Robert's limousine. For a moment I think about it. Then I decide that all I'll get is a large dry-cleaning bill, so I simply watch as these two gentlemen settle matters with honour. Frankly, I wished they'd used duelling pistols...that would have been more interesting.

Eventually the moody brawlers are separated, and we head back. These people are on a fixed release date, remember, having paid cash ahead of time, so I was ready to leave in any case.

We pulled up back at the front door of the bar from which we'd left pretty much on time. I was so glad to have the night over that I think my spirits were as high at that point as at any other during the evening.

It took two hours to clean up after the pigs.

No tip.

The Boss spoke to me on the Monday and accused me of being asleep while 'your customers were calling you.' He trusted these fools more than me.

And there, ladies and gentlemen, you have the kind of arseholes who own limousine services.