All in a Days Work

I have never before done a blog - this is my first time!

My friend Greg Scott suggested I start a blog to help me with the short film I am trying to eke out of my time as a lady cabby in San francisco. I have been twirling through the streets of SF for almost two years and I have to say lately i have found it well frankly kind of tiring, even a little boring. I am not going to pretend its the best job in the world or anything because unltimately its customer service, but at the same time, for customer service it can be a very independant and adventurous gig, as you can imagine. The shifts at the company I work for are ten hours, so you see where the boring/tiring aspect begins to form. And after two years of driving miss daisy, sometimes you begin to feel like a bit of a wasted talent.

I am a native San Franciscan, a night driver and yes a Lady (sometimes). Driving a cab in SF is probably different than driving in most cities, especially as a woman or as a queer. It is a very progressive city, so they say. One minute I am carrying 3 yuppies to the mission to partake in the gentrification of one of the most precious working class areas of the city, and the next I am shuttling a mom and her gay son to a Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Easter Sunday Jesus look-a-like contest. You see what I mean. Never a dull moment. Except for Monday nights in January when you are driving around helplessly looking for a stray tourist or sorry ass alcoholic out getting shitfaced by themselves on a weekday night. Either way I like to think theres a little less of a culture of hard lined east coast masculinity here, a little more hot pink. Makes a girl feel safer, I guess.

For me, this job constantly feels like it or I am on the line. Drama of the week? I was out at my gayborhood bar with my girlfriend, who also happens to be a cab driver (we'll get back to that later) and one of our supervisors happened to be there throwing a few back as well. He recognized us and introduced himself to j-- as our supervisor and handed her a card. Of course being who she is, she bought him a drink and talked him up for a while. We sat at the bar while he told us about his kitties, his days as a driver and what its like to take complaints for a living. Totally innocent. About two weeks later, I am getting on the bay bridge in Muffala my teeny tiny turquoise hatchback in some cunty ass mood and this guy tries to cut me off as I am getting on the bridge - well of course I am not going to let him go, even if it is carpool and I am driving solo. I get in front of him, flash him the hairy eyeball, and zip to my sisters house. Three days later said supervisor finds me in the lounge and engages in a fabulous display of public humiliation.

"You went to the east bay on friday in a blue car and got on in the carpool only on-ramp at around two o'clock, didnt you?"

"um yes!" I say confusedly

"You remember me? You cut me off and then looked right at me and glared" he looks around the room and says to the room of dosing drivers "She glares" "You looked right at me, cut me off in a carpool only lane, driving alone and then you GLARED at me"

At this point I realize that guy with the born again heathen bumper sticker was HIM! Oh shit! He sort of seems like he is kinda joking mad not real mad, but as he continues on he seems to get really more and more pissed. My sweet date is there trying to turn it into more of a joke, "Oh you should see her when she is in her cab, your lucky she didn't run you off the road" and this kind of nonsense, which was helpful, really, to deescalate the tension a little I think.

"Wait till you get a complaint" he barks as he goes back into the office "We'll see what happens then"

Oh no, I shudder to myself, thats right, he's the complaint taker guy. I had quite a few complaints turned in when I first started, but I think its been a while. One of the things that has helped is my resolution not to swear at my passengers or call them names. Just let it go. I can kick them out, but don't call them a worthless fuck while doing it. Sometimes, though they will complain to get over their own bad days, so this is going to be quite a challenge.

In the meantime, I think I need to get down to a faggy pet supply store and buy his cats christmas presents. Hopefully this will pass as many small miracles do in this industry, trapping drivers for ten, twenty, thirty years.

For now I end this entry but look forward to the challenge of pulling the nights events out of the closed rusty trunk I toss them into as soon as I leave my yellow box.