The Boss

In the past, when I listened to self-improvement tapes while I ran or walked, most of it literally went in one ear and out the other. Not much stuck inbetween. One thing that did, however, is the idea that many of us are mentally stuck in high school.

It appeals to on a visceral and a logical level. I saw it in myself, I guess, and that brought home the horror of being a fully physically mature man and still a mental adolescent. What an awful thing. And you know what? I have found this again, in the figure of The Boss.

It's not new to me, given that I've been living with this thing for years, but events of recent times show me that it's time the veil of anonymity be raised, if ever so slightly. I want to bring this face of stupidity right out in the open, if only for my own fun. As a man I trust completely says, to think bad things is one thing, but to do them is quite another.

I wonder where blogging about a complete douchebag fits?



Cartoon from here [link]

WORK

Man, I am tired.

Work popped up out of nowhere over the last two weeks, which characteristic of any service industry should be well known. And still people are surprised.

Now, to pay that dentist's bill...




Courtesy link [link]

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]

Zombies

Has anyone else in my town noticed?

I think we are in the midst of a Zombie Invasion. It might be that these...things...are from outer space, but they choose minivans and F-150s as their transportation devices. Aliens, I'm sure, would be in flying saucers.

These Zombies look just like you and me. They have this uncanny human look about them, right down to the humblest detail. They wear spectacles, sometimes with those clip-on sunglass accessories. Their clothes are normal-looking, if a little dated. There are lots of man-made fibres and everything seems just a tad too tight, except when they wear deliberately loose-fitting stuff like 'work-out' pants and such.

But they're part of Zombie-Nation alright. Just watch them when they drive. Only the undead could drive as poorly as that. Three-lane changes leaving their arse sticking out; flipping bitches* at random intervals; exceedingly slow progress in fast lanes; exceedingly ill-timed entries onto fast-moving thoroughfares - no, these aren't humans. No living person could possibly be that bad behind the wheel.

Interestingly enough, this Zombie Invasion seems to have started in Michigan. And Wisconsin. And Indiana. It's like all the Zombies decided to take a driving vacation to my town and create as much havoc on the roads as possible. As much as the undead can, that is. Which is rather a lot, as it turns out.






*Pulling a U-Turn

Also published here [link]

Flat

Most of my working time is spent on airport runs. It's basically taxi work, but pays some bills between the much more lucrative limousine runs. Some drivers, and some companies for that matter, make airports their specialty. That's understandable, because towncar transfers are simple compared to driving groups of drunks around.

If you make airport runs your bread-and-butter, you end up doing a lot of miles for your dollar, which creates its own set of problems. First is the boredom. Imagine driving the same 60 mile route ten or more times a day, seven days a week as a buddy of mine does. I fear he leaves a small piece of his sanity on the side of I-75 every trip.

Another occupational hazard is the inevitability of mechanical problems, and that bane of drivers everywhere; the flat tire. This was my first as a limo driver, and happily enough the story ends up well. I had parked at Tampa airport with ten minutes to spare before my customer's flight's landing time. In reality that gave me ten minutes, plus ten minutes for it to taxi to the gate, plus ten minutes for her to deplane and find her way to baggage claim. Let's call that 25 minutes to be safe.

Of course, we carry only the 'donut' get-you-home spare in the towncars, not a real wheel and tire. Fortunately I was in a well-lit, level spot, so the change went pretty smoothly. Twelve minutes from start to finish, which surprised me. I feel for the folks who get stuck on the side of a busy freeway. That's downright dangerous.

Scuttling downstairs, I washed my hands and stood waiting for my customer. The plan was to be honest and upfront - it was likely to take us twenty minutes longer to get to her house than normal. The donut is limited to 50 mph, somewhat slower than our usual 70 plus. The alternative was to help her into a taxi.

Fortunately, my wonderful customer was completely cool and let it bother her not at all. Being in the car and on the way was good enough for her. She checked her email, ate her sandwich (delayed flight, no food) and we had a nice chat. When we stopped in her driveway she joked that it was the her longest ever trip time...but she was smiling. She even offered me a cash tip, which I refused. Her good humour was more than enough.

The Boss, of course, charged her the full amount. Heaven forfend he take some off for the inconvenience.




Pic from here [link]

Puke

Saturday night's bachelor party conformed to every basic guideline I have written about these celebrations.

The roster of highlights included:

~ a certain aloofness from some of the passengers to start.

~ a couple of them who are friendly.

~ lack of pacing their drinking, including Jagermeister in the first hour.

~ increasing friendliness towards me from even the most haughty of the guys.

~ losing money at the casino.

~ losing even more money at the strip clubs.

~ being the group's best buddy when I find an open liquor store.

~ vomiting, see below.

~ a sleepy trip home.

~ nice tip. Thanks guys.

The puke happened in the car park at the strip club. Chilling out, finishing their drinks before heading in, I sat at the front reading my book. The "Door Open" annunciator lit up on my panel, so I jumped out to attend. What I saw was a fountain of puke, a literal technicolour yawn pouring from one of the guys. As we decided later, he was a pro, making sure not to spew inside, keeping it down until he could reach the door.

Checking to make sure he was okay, I quickly returned to the front, and reversed up twenty feet or so.

When the groom exited, he said to his buddies:

Hey, there's an extra twenty for Wombat's tip right there. He made sure we didn't have to tread in that shit.

Another feather in my cap.

Yeah. Great.




Pic from here [link]

Weddings and Limousines

In response to my friend DC Chick's wedding announcement - congratulations! - here's my rough guide to renting a limo for your wedding. I'll do this in bullet points so I don't forget anything.

* Shop around by phone first. Phone manner will tell you much about the business.

* Ask specifically for what you want; stretched sedan, stretched SUV, Hummer.

* Make sure of the age of the limo - ask the year of manufacture.

* Look for a limo with a bridal door.

* Consider what you and the bridesmaids will wear.

* Tight/complicated dress means you want easy ingress/egress.

* Once you have narrowed it down, go and look at the cars.

* Impress with the number of hours you will need the limo.

* More hours means greater opportunity for reduced hourly cost.

* Make sure when you book you get exactly the car you want.

* If it's possible proceedings will go over time, confirm that's okay.

* Ask about the drivers.

* Ask for the one with the most experience with weddings.

* If it matters, tell them what/how you want him/her dressed.

* Be clear and precise with your plans for the day.

* Write those plans down.

* Send them to the limo driver, together with any specific requests.

* On the day, let the driver know of any changes to the plan.

* Don't forget to put some drinks in the limo. (Booze,I mean.)

* If you have a problem, communicate with your driver.

* Ask him or her for ideas if you need to. Use them as a resource.

* Put some cash in an envelope beforehand.

* Write "Limo Driver" on it, and give it to him at the end.

* Have fun.


Pic from here [link]

Taking Money

Writing about tipping is uncomfortable. The impression I feel people have of limo drivers is that it's all about the tip, that we're grasping individuals motivated only by the palmed bill at the end.

Probably because this is my first job in direct service of people, the gratuity is still something of a mystery to me. Not that I'm not both grateful for, and work in slight expectation of, a gratuity. But the state of mind that works best for me is to do the best job I can for every customer, and be surprised at whatever happens.

There are no hard and fast rules about who tips well, and who doesn't. What I can tell you is that good tippers are both rich and poor, and poor tippers are mostly rich.

Now I've cracked the seal, I think I'll write more about gratuity life.

This is a good guide to tipping your limo driver. [link]




Pic from here [link]

Chauffeur

A kind of omerta binds and separates chauffeurs. On one hand we're all intensely competitive, given the value of each customer. We'd steal each other's business in a moment. On the other hand a grudging understanding creates an unspoken brotherhood.

If you drive you know the deal. You know the late starts, the early finishes, the rotten money, the unpredictable customers, the moronic drivers, the foolish bosses and ridiculous bureaucrats.

With the downside come the benefits. Among them are the pleasure of a nice day and an open road; not being stuck as a cube drone; meeting interesting, famous or plain sweet people; and the satisfaction of making someone's day.

Today was a good day, for which I am grateful.



Pic from here [link]

Wise Heads

Young men and their lady friends sometimes find themselves in the back of my limousine. I'm impressed by the way they do the responsible thing, and pay for one of The Boss's limos (and me) to drive them around instead of doing it themselves.

In Florida, if you blow over .08 you are off to jail for the night, no questions asked. So a few hundred bucks to prevent that is the deal of the century.

These same young men aren't quite full-bottle on some of the finer points of limousine life. For instance, there are ways to circumvent The Boss's no smoking policy. One method that does not work is to raise the divider and light up a blunt. That results in me lowering the divider and politely pointing out that smoking is not allowed in the limousine, as per the rental agreement.

Someone needs to tell these boys that a polite request beforehand, and emoluments in the form of cash go a long way towards me overlooking The Boss and his silly rules.




Pic from here [link]