taxi driver confessions

Originally appeared on Broke-Ass Stuart’s Goddamn Website

It’s Saturday night. I’m cruising through Hayes Valley, keeping a watchful eye for street hails outside the Jazz Center. On Franklin, a hand goes up, though somewhat feebly. I pull over anyway. A young guy approaches my window.

“Can you take me to Safeway?”

I look in my rearview at traffic approaching. “Of course! Get in!” I take off right before a wave of cars pile up behind me. “Which Safeway you want?”

“The one in the Marina. Do you need the address?”

“No.”

I head up and over the hills, fighting to catch the timed lights. As I descend into the Marina, I get in the right lane to bypass Lombard traffic. Take a left at Bay. Past Fort Mason to Laguna. Pull into the Safeway parking lot and deposit the guy at the front door like a rock star. He thanks me and gets out of the cab.

“Hey! Don’t forget to pay me!” I shout.

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckles. “I’m just so used to Uber and Lyft…”

I laugh along good-naturedly. This happens all the time. Even though I’m driving a bright yellow cab with green checkers on the side. Even though there is a top light that boldly states “TAXI.” Even though numbers and insignias are painted on the doors. Even though the windows have credit card stickers and permits. Even though “SAN FRANCISCO TAXICAB” is written on the side and trunk. And even though there is a taximeter on the dash, a tablet on the headrest of the passenger seat and plaques on the inside of the doors, I go through this farce multiple times a night.

I make an off-handed comment to the latest case in point that money still needs to exchange hands sometimes…

“That’s why these apps are so great,” the guy tells me earnestly. “They store my payment information. I request a car through my phone and—”

“I know all about them,” I cut him off. Thinking, If Uber and Lyft are so great, why the fuck are you in a taxi? Then it hits me… Uber must be surging and Lyft is no doubt in prime time. When multipliers hit 1.9 or 200 percent, all these loyal rideshare users are suddenly clamoring to get in cabs, where the price is always the same, regardless of demand. (Although during rush hour when everybody wants in my cab, sometimes I think about auctioning off the seats to the highest bidder. But that would be illegal, right?)

“Fare-weather” passengers are a crapshoot. There are those who seem unsure how to behave in a taxi. Like this guy. While others tell me straight up Uber is surging 4.6x and that’s the only reason they’re slumming it in a cab. Some just act like they’re in a rideshare and I have PTSD flashbacks to the ten months I drove for Uber and Lyft before switching to taxi.

As I run the guy’s card through the Square on my iPhone and hand it back, he apologizes again.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “Happens all the time.”

“Maybe you should consider driving for Uber then.” He laughs.

I’m not sure how to respond. I consider mentioning that cabs have apps too. Flywheel works just like Uber, expect you get a real taxi driver who’s fully insured and licensed. But instead, I mumble something about not wanting to be part of the problem anymore…

Whatever. It’s getting late. I’m on my fourth 12-hour shift in a row. And now I’m in the Marina. During surge. Unless I bug out, I’ll end up on Union, getting flagged by seven bros who want to ride in my cab all at once (“we’ll tip you”) or a pack of girls heading to the Mission, commandeering my stereo and screaming at each other the whole way down Gough.

On occasions like these, I remember what Late-Night Larry once told me: “You’re a night cabbie! It’s your job to make sure people have fun.”

As I pull out of the parking lot and head down Laguna to Chestnut, I groan and join the party.

Originally appeared on Broke-Ass Stuart’s Goddamn Website

It’s inevitable. Now that I drive a taxi, I regularly field the inquiry: “So… have you thought about driving for Uber?” When I tell my passengers that I did the Lyft and Uber thing before switching to taxi driving, they’re usually shocked. “Don’t you make more money with Lyft and Uber?” Maybe some do, I’ll say, but I never did. After eleven months of mostly full time driving, my bank account was overdrawn, my credit cards were maxed out, the backseat of my car looked like I’d been transporting farm animals and I was riddled with self-loathing. I was basically subsidizing multi-million—or, in Uber’s case, multi-billion—dollar companies. And for what? Empty promises and a sense of community? What bullshit. I never felt like anything but an underpaid, untrained and unregulated cab driver.

I could go on ad nauseam, detailing the moral bankruptcy of the Lyft and Uber systems, but now that I’ve been a real taxi driver for two months, I try to deflect the Uber/Lyft question. It’s boring. I’m sick of talking about fucking Uber in my cab! And to be honest, I’m not proud to have driven for them as long as I did. In fact, I’m ashamed of it.

From the beginning, I was appalled by the self-entitled culture that spawned the phenomenon of “ridesharing” and the consequences it’s had on the livelihoods of cab drivers, most of whom are longtime San Francisco residents. It wasn’t easy participating in the destruction of a blue-collar industry. After all, I’m a descendent of coal miners, janitors, store clerks and army grunts. In college, I was required to read The Communist Manifesto three times. Being an Uber/Lyft driver is not in my nature. To be successful at it requires personality traits I will never possess: the ability to cheat and scam. And a complete lack of conscience. Since the only time you make decent money is during surge pricing, you have to take pride in ripping people off. The rest of the time, you’re barely making minimum wage, so you need to be somewhat stupid as well. You’re basically running your personal car into the ground and hoping to luck out with a ride that’s more than five bucks. Some drivers have figured out how to make the system work for them and earn more money referring drivers than they do actually driving themselves, but isn’t that just a bizarro take on the pyramid scheme?

Despite Uber’s political spin or Lyft’s cheerful advertising campaign, using your personal car as a taxi is not sustainable. Each time I got behind the wheel of my Jetta and turned on the apps, I had to overlook the absurdity of what I was doing. It never ceased to amaze me that people would be so willing to ride in some random dude’s car. But since my passengers acted as if the activity were perfectly normal, I went along with it.

Once I realized what I’d gotten myself into, I wanted to document the exploitative nature of this predatory business model. I wanted to expose the inherent risks associated with inadequate insurance, the lack of training and the vulnerability of not having anyone to contact in an emergency. I wanted to shed light on the reality of being a driver, dealing with constant fare cuts, enforced jingoism and the tyranny of an unfair rating system. I wanted to reveal the lies. All the dirty lies. I started a blog and even published two zines about my experiences.

Naïvely, I thought reporting on these issues from the perspective of a driver would make a difference. I was wrong. People hold on to their faith in the corporate spirit even when it’s against their best interest. That’s what I figured out from all this. Oh, and that I really like driving the streets of San Francisco. So I signed up for taxi school and went pro. Now I make more money, feel more relaxed and no longer have to worry about declaring bankruptcy if I get into an accident.

Plus, I’m a taxi driver.