Little Old Ladies

It's the fact of living in Florida, but many of my adventures revolve around old people. Seniors, in the argot, or oldsters, or silly old farts depending on my mood.

In the limo game, I learned from experience that little old ladies belie their benign looks (and reputation). In real life, these people are sharks, manipulating hapless optimists like me with the skill of a Reno card dealer. Don't let their stooped stature and old-lady smell fool you - they know the value of a buck, and how to keep them in their purse, and out of your pocket.

The job sheet showed me collecting two local ladies from Tampa airport, late on a Sunday night. Two friends on vacation sharing a towncar ride back to their respective residences; it's a common-enough deal.

Let's say the total was $140.00. It's normal for folks to use a credit card to reserve a booking, and then pay cash. The Boss is always up front about the cost, which he is careful to make clear to the customer. Also, another driver had driven them to the airport a week earlier, so they knew the drill. And to further solidify the arrangement, we talked about the fact they were paying cash, half each. They knew exactly how much the ride cost.

After I'd schlepped the first lady's bag to the door, she gave me a handful of cash as arranged. Being as I was trusting of Little Old Ladies at that point, I didn't count it. Like I said, she'd already been through this on the outward leg, so why would I question it?

The second lady lived in a high-rise. Dutifully I carried her three bags full of gold bricks up the stairs, into the elevator, and along the breezeway to her apartment. She, too, gave me a handful of cash, and in the same trusting manner, I shoved it in my pocket. She also made a point of saying that there was a little something for me there too.

That's nice. A small tip for my manual labor makes for a happy evening...

...until I returned to base and counted the cash. Instead of a $70-00 wad and a $70.00 plus-some wad, I had two $65-00 wads. Not only had I been swindled, there was no gratuity and she knew it. The choice at that point is to make phone calls, knock on doors and go chase the money. But then I saw this episode for what it was: a ten dollar learning experience. So I added a sawbuck of my own and to this day I count every note that passes my hands.

Sorry, I trust you, but a couple of old grifters shook me down once....


Pic from here [link]

Also published here [link]

Amusement

The time evenings unravel is around 1:15 am. Sometimes it's earlier, but by that point any simmering differences between folks in the group rise to the surface.

Alcohol is the catalyst. Observing the arc of a night out with people in a limousine teaches you that even the most chummy friends can turn ugly on each other given enough neck-oil. It's sad, in truth, but just another human frailty.

Notwithstanding late-night bickering, I try to find amusement whenever I can. Of course I'm as sober as a Sarasota lawyer at 1:15 am, which gives me an advantage over most of my customers and opportunities to indulge my dark side. Here's a case in point:

If you have rented a large stretched limousine, a Hummer, for example, a recent model will set you back north of $150 per hour. That is $2.50 a minute. Think of it as a Bud Light per minute. This particular night out was organized by a self-made man, an electrical contractor from memory, and he was clearly the Alpha Dog amongst the six couples. We'd been to bars all over the Suncoast, and, as usual, the initial iciness towards me had melted. The mood was happy and festive. Until the 1:15 hour.

Our Alpha decided it was time to settle up the bill to that point. We stopped outside one of his buddies' houses, and he whipped out a wad of cash collected from the players.

How much do I owe you? he asked. I totted it up, and let's say it came to $650 dollars.

He then started counting fifties and twenties into my hand, backwards from $650. Swaying and slurring all the while, he did a pretty good job, although the leap from $610 to $590 took him a lot of mental energy. Why he insisted on counting backwards is a mystery, but backwards was the way he wanted it.

At around $420, someone would come up to him (we were standing at the rear of the limo) and offer him a drink or a cigarette, or the inevitable ongoing argument inside would spill outside and distract him.

He would then take all the money back from me, and start counting down again from $650, only to be interrupted at the $420 mark.

The third time this happened, when he started again he asked how much he owed me to date. $688 I said. He stopped and looked at me.

I thought you said $650?

Yes, but we've been standing here counting money for fifteen minutes, and you now owe me $38 more.

He then started counting backwards from $688.

This went on for forty minutes. I laughed then, and for days after. On the inside, of course.




Also published here. [link]