Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Elder Bullets
It's Florida here, as far as the eye can see. That means there are oldsters, as far as the eye can see, although most of them aren't actually visible because they're warehoused in "Senior Housing Facilities".
We have occasional jobs originating at these places, but they're less frequent than I think they should be. Whether that's because the inmates - sorry, residents - are careful with their pennies or The Boss doesn't market to the elder community I don't know. Oh, well, actually, I do. It's the latter.
Sunday afternoon saw me booted and spurred at one of these places. Oftentimes all we have is a time, an address and a name. The Boss can't be arsed giving us more background, using the catch-all "As Directed" on the dispatch ticket.
I parked close to the reception area, did a final check to make sure the Town Car was presentable, and went in search of my customers. The receptionist (a relatively spritely ninety-year-old) pointed me back out to where I'd come from: my clients were sitting outside under the porte cochere waiting for me, fifteen minutes before time. I'd walked straight past them.
Interesting, this phenomenon. Wouldn't you think that, watching me park the car and walk past them in dark suit and tie, they'd click that I was there for them? * shakes head *
In any case, my two nice ladies were being treated to an afternoon out, courtesy of a generous nephew many states distant. First, to a matinee, then to dinner, then home.
Actually, before going anywhere, we had to negotiate getting into the car. Both had walkers and inflexible bodies, so each ingress and egress was like the docking of a Carnival Cruise liner...without the cocktails - slow, choreographed and ever-so-clumsy.
But I'm making it sound worse than it was. They were both in pretty good spirits, enthused at the idea of having a chauffeur, interested in me - my marital status, which church I attend - for a while, quickly becoming bored with a topic like old people do.
The only spark of discontent came from the horror that sometimes one of them had to walk slightly further (around the car) to access the door on the other side. I failed in the quest to make each side of the car equidistant for each of them.
Of such small snits is old-age full I imagine, although I worked as hard as I could to make their day as easy as possible.
For some people, enough is never enough, although I shall record that they both gave me a cash tip - an unexpected bonus given my knowledge of how old ladies operate.
Posted by
Wombat
at
2:13 PM
Labels: chauffeur, oldsters, town car, working hours
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7 comments:
Whether you attend church or not, you have the patience of a saint.
Knowing all too well the senior population of Florida, I'm quite amazed that they gave you a tip. Although, giving you a quarter might constitute a tip to them. (I hope it was more than that.)
LOL Nitebyrd!
Yep, you know these folks well.
A quarter DOES constitute a tip for some of these folks, I have seen it done!(At a breakfast place, no less. Never be stingy with those who supply your food, I think.)
Expecting nothing, I was happy with $15. The bill was over two hundred, but percentages are not necessarily valid in this game.
I was happy with paper money and not coins, as you highlight :-)
there is never an easy with the old birds, sugar! *sigh* (i'll stop now before the bitterness overcomes me.) xoxoxx
The problem of the Old Birds - sorry to bring you back to earth, Sugar.
They look harmless enough; then I note the sly acid looks and razor tongues.
Yep, I see it all now.
Hey Wombat,
Ever notice the trips you bust your arse, drive long distance, bend over backwards to accommodate, lift wicked heavy and multiple suitcases, drive/stand/walk in weather elements etc you get NOTHING for a tip?
And then you do the easiest, quickest trip (you feel like you are robbing your boss for doing nothing) and you get a HUGE tip?
Does this ever happen to you?
I am glad you got a tip, though. If I were you I wouldn't expect anything from the "white-heads" LOL
xoxox for you, sugar. thanks for the nod of understanding.
Yes, ALL the time, Sammy. There's some inverse law applicable here, that the less work you do, the bigger the tip, and v/v.
There is no logic to it! I call it Bizarro Limo World.
And yet, I still think (as I'm sure you do) that it's always worth doing the right thing...if only for self-satisfaction at a job well done.
I also have to say that there's no telling from the way they look who is a good tipper and who is not.
Another manifestation of BLW.
A nod, a bow, a hug and a gift card of understanding, Suger.
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