Clean

The Boss is obsessed with the cleanliness of his cars. Not the inside, mind you. That he could give two hoots about, but all the cars' outsides are cleaned at least twice a week.

The theory is that at the end of each run, we drivers will clean the interior of our car. Therefore, Bossman need not spend money on it, as it is in our interest (read: larger tips) if the customer thinks he is travelling in a sparkling environment.

Two problems with this:

One is that everybody has a different standard of cleanliness.

The other is that the link between freshly cleaned carpet and tip size is weak.

If it was Wombat's Limousine Service, I would worry less about the way the cars look to everyone else, and spend much more on keeping the insides looking and smelling pristine. That is what the customer sees most of; the seat backs, the cabinets and the carpets. Surely this is where to make an impression.

There is only one other driver apart from me who I know cleans after each run. Apparently all the others cannot see white sand on black carpet - and all the cars have black carpet.

Truthfully, our shop vacuum really isn't up to the job. Poor thing should have retired years ago. Sometimes I understand why drivers just don't bother.

Hot Florida Days

Uh, oh.

I had just reversed into my Sunday morning customer's drive.

They need to be on a cruise ship in three hours.

There was steam billowing from the engine that I wasn't quick enough to photograph.




There's no way this is good.

I call The Boss, and he says to remove the cap of the coolant tank.

The caption specifically says not to remove it when hot.



Decide to look under car, and notice drain full of (rusty looking) hot coolant.

Call Boss back, and suggest that a rescue driver and a tow truck is probably more appropriate than a Wombat battlefield repair.



Yes, my eighty-something couple boarded the cruise, with thirty minutes to spare.

All in a day's work.

Speak when spoken to

In my former life, I worked for a company that provided taxi and limousine transport for its employees. Once the ego-high of being driven around the place wears off, it becomes routine and just another part of the drudgery of making a living.

As I remember, the limousine drivers were all good guys and girls, who stuck by a maxim I now use: speak when you are spoken too, converse when the customer converses, and remain silent when they do. Simple, right? Not necessarily.

It is easy to slip into the conversational habit of talking about yourself when a customer gets chatty. But the relationship is very different than if you and I were talking. The limo customer truly isn't interested in what I think, unless they specifically ask. The best response comes when I keep the conversation centred around them. It's a basic technique of reflecting what they say back to them, and asking open-ended questions.

Occasionally, someone will connect on a personal level, at which point it's clear that they want my opinion. But most people don't get my humour, so I gave up doing my bits in the first month.

It's the constriction of the role that is the problem - the context. People see a driver as only a driver. And what driver could possibly know more than sports, weather, and road conditions? Revealing interesting experiences from my life flummoxes them, because it jars with their vision of what a driver should be.

So much of my time is spent biting my tongue, smiling, and licking arse, like every other working stiff.

Who are you? Why do you drive so poorly?

Put me behind a car on the Interstate, and I can tell you - with 90% accuracy - the sex, ethnicity and age of the driver. Not only that, but I'll tell you if they're using a cellphone, although deciphering their service provider is more difficult.

Now that I'm a professional road user, I can look down haughtily upon my fellow travellers. With a keen eye for detail, deducing basic facts about people from the model and age of car is infant's recreation. The manner in which people careen about the place is a dead give-away; combine the two and you have an unbeatable system.

Late model Camry in the fast lane steadfastly doing two mph under the speed limit?

White male over 55.

New Honda Civic changing lanes erratically at ten mph over?

Female on cellphone under age 27.

Tricked out eighties GM product, driver so far back he's practically in the rear seat?

Black male under 35.

This is too easy. I need a challenge.

Driving Threads

At The Boss's Limousine Service, the stated uniform is black suit, black tie, black shoes and white shirt.

I am the only mug in Bossman's memory who actually took this to heart. On the day he gave me the job, I duly purchased a (cheap, oversize) black suit. Nobody employed since has done anything like that.

Susan, until this week our only female chauffeur, sports what amounts to a tuxedo when she drives. Black trousers, black waist-length jacket, white shirt with studs and a bowtie. Frankly I think the stiff shirt and bowtie are over-the-top, but she always looks the business.

Today, I want to present the best looking limousine drivers I have yet seen. These guys were in the west coast of Florida's limousine Mecca: the cellphone waiting lot at Tampa airport. Glamorous, eh?

As I drove in, their cool threads and Crockett and Tubbs demenour shouted at me to take their photo. So I did.



What other blogs are saying: Crockett and Tubbs, the tuxedo, bowtie Joe.

People are people

The reason I started in the limousine game in the first place was to meet people.

Working at home, alone, was driving me slowly insane. In the absence of anything resembling a social life, taking an evening and weekend job was logical. Although I rant a little here, I'm glad of the experience. Doing something outside my comfort zone is good for my brain, creating new pathways or synapse links or whatever the heck happens up there.

People are the upside and the downside of life. People can make your day, and people can ruin your day (if you allow them). Driving has meant I have met people I would never have found before, and every new person gives a slightly different slant on life.

At one point I thought I was a good judge of character, but now I know different. In fact, I have stopped judging people altogether, given how past snap decisions have done them and me a disservice. Thesedays I simply watch, observe, look, question and remain neutral.

After a while, people will show you their true nature.

Glass cleaning facilities

For those of you with strong constitutions, this is where the limousine glasses are washed.



And here is where they are dried.



Just so that you don't think I'm part of this conspiracy, I take my own dish cloths, so at least the last part of the process is hygienic.

Mind reading

Reading other people's minds is one of the many skills the professional limousine driver needs to succeed in his chosen field.

It works like this. You will collect a couple, or three, or four, knowing that they want to start their evening at a particular restaurant or bar. On Harry's trip sheet, it's usually referred to as:

Take from residence to Mongrel Grill for dinner, then as directed.

It's the "as directed" part that sometimes gets messed up.

You know you're in for a big night when they say, Nah, forget about the Mongrel Grill, we don't want to go there. Where's the action in town tonight? Take us there.

Great. Now I'm responsible for the success or failure of their evening, with the resulting effect on everyone's mood. In this part of Florida there IS nowhere to go on a Tuesday night. Alright, maybe a handful of places that might have some live music and atmosphere, but come on people, the average age here is 231. Dinner service is over at most places by 6:45.

Once they've had a few adult beverages, things loosen up. They usually start being more chatty, but also more forgetful. I receive the call to collect them from one place, and everyone piles in. I often just start driving, because it's not my position to start demanding answers. At some point, someone will shout "Hey, where are you going?" to which I always say, "Sir, wherever you want." Some form of instruction usually follows.

WHY DON'T YOU JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU WANT TO GO WHILE I'M HOLDING THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU, YOU IDIOT?

Boy, that feels better.

What's worse than a fool? A drunk fool in a limousine.

Don't use limousine glasses

All I'm saying is, if you're ever in a limousine, use plastic cups or bring your own.

That's all.








Hint: Do you know how they're washed?

Arriba!

Question: How many people can you fit into this limousine?

Answer: 24.

It's completely illegal, of course, as the beast is only licensed for 16 punters. But when it's a sunny Saturday and the event is a Mexican wedding, then who am I to be the Limousine Grinch?

I'm rapidly learning that different cultures have remarkably different norms, especially in social situations. Mexican folks apparently don't put much stock in the tradition of the bride being given away by her father. I was chatting to the father - well, trying to understand him, as I don't speak Spanish - beforehand, and the gist of it was that his role was limited. It was her mother we had to wait for at the church, and it was her mother who gave the final assent for the hitching to go ahead.

It was a Catholic ceremony, as one would expect. The groom, when he appeared with his new bride an hour and a half later, looked as if he had seen a ghost. He honestly seemed shell-shocked: blank faced, silent, wide-eyed. It was as if he was a wild animal freshly captured for the amusement of everyone else.

Rather an apt metaphor for his wedding day don't you think?

The funniest part of the day was the "videographer." This guy ran the entire show, choreographing the arrival of the limousine, the opening and closing of doors and pretty much everything else. When the wedding party emerged from the chapel he shooed them all back inside so he could get a better angle.

In twenty years the happy couple will relive it and marvel at how wonderful everything was. But on the day they were tired, hungry, stressed and feeling powerless. At least we stopped for cokes and corn chips on the way to the reception. That cheered everyone up no end.

Technorati: Weddings, Limousine Life, Marriage, Mexicans.