For Scarlett, and her mother

 I'm an email and digital marketing consultant, and rideshare is the client of last resort. I tend to do a lot of it around the holidays, because most clients don't have a lot of needs then, and if billing isn't optimal, the bills still need to be paid. Besides, you often run into people who remind you to be grateful for what you have, even if it's less than what you thought it was going to be.

Yesterday started with a disappointing but not totally surprising pause order from a top client. I'm hopeful they'll come back in a quarter or less, but there's no guarantee of it, and while I wasn't counting on their billing to cover expenses this month, next month is another matter. So what was looking to be a lot of hours in the car is going to be, well, definitely a lot of hours in the car. And the reality is that there are only so many hours in the day, and so long before you aren't safe to drive. So, not a great start to the day.

The shift starts well enough, and then a request comes in for a 55-minute ride north and east. That could mean a trip out of state, fighting traffic in greater NYC, and spending the rest of my shift outside of my comfort zone, where I know the local traffic patterns, locations of clean bathrooms, potholes, speed traps, and so on. There are good reasons to do rideshare locally, so that's where I do it. But with the morning's bad news fresh in my mind and my metrics a little on the low side for acceptance, I take the ride. 

The pick up is a detached house, a little rundown but not bad, in a mediocre neighborhood. The passenger comes out with a 2 year-old in a carseat, a guy wearing Wawa gear loading supplies into the trunk, and my feelings about taking the ride do not improve. 2-year-olds aren't always the nicest cargo, and what might be a single mom taking a long ride in traffic aren't very lucrative. But away we go. I confirm identity, destination and amenities, get a polite thank you that doesn't speak to the need for more conversation, and assume the next hour is going to be as quiet as the 2-year-old allows.

But after taking a quick call in Spanish, the mom starts a bit of conversation. I learn that the little girl is named Scarlett and usually falls asleep on car rides (yup, that happened), and the pick was at the mother of her boyfriend's house. I share some parenting and general life advice from my long-ago days of caring for infants, we start trading stories about our kids, and the traffic gets worse. I don't mind as much as I was planning to.

As the time slides by, I ask the mom what she does when she isn't a mom. With a little hesitation that eventually turns into eagerness, she gives me her back story. Moved from a small town in Mexico to the United States at age 9. Bullied in school for not knowing English, then a victim of sexual assault from a relative, so, grew up fast. Never wanted to be a mom, but took care of younger siblings. Dropped out of high school, worked in warehouses, didn't think she liked people, and then Scarlett. 

But then she got a job at a hotel working the front desk, and started having to interact with people, and it's something that she's getting better at. The father is slowly warming to the task, having been worried about the finances at the start.

On some level, it's a leap of faith for her to share all of this with me. I'm a middle-aged white guy, and it would be easy for her to imagine that engaging in a pretty deep conversation with an adult she's likely never to see again wasn't on her bingo card for the day. 

But I find myself touched by her willingness, and also find myself thinking back to how the day began, and how much I was dreading full-time rideshare.

The drop occurs an hour and a half later, after a change in plans that necessitated a different drop off and passenger exchange, so it became kind of a whole thing. I wind up dropping off her brother with her child, helping him unload the car, and getting tipped twice -- once in the app for a little and another in person from the relative. 

The amount from the app was below average, but with the tips, back to OK. I spend the next hour battling my way back, so it's not exactly a great shift for the money.

But as a reminder that the people that some of us choose to demonize aren't, well, demons?

And a reminder to be grateful for what I do have in this world, and how much more unfair life could be?

Great ride. Better passengers.

Pronouns for profit

As a rideshare driver, I'm constantly questioning my choices. What areas I chose to work in, which rides I tale, when conditions are best, the time I should stop. It's endless. 

So is, well, the code-switching. When a passenger enters the car, I confirm identity and destination, let them know about amenities, and wait for a response. If none or perfunctory is forthcoming, I respect that choice and complete the task. But if a conversation occurs, or the passenger seems like they are waiting to hear more, I wade in.

Last weekend, I'm working a not particularly well to do area. These can be more advantageous, since you are driving less distance to get your next passenger, and people with means are just less likely to be dependent on rideshare. But you do wonder if you are trading quality for quantity, especially when... the pick up is at a Wal-Mart, and the drop off is at a 1-star roadside motel. 

But into every rideshare life, some 1-star motels must fall, so let's get it done.

The passenger texts that there will be two riders, and they are waiting for me at the door; good start. On entering, they compliment the amenities, and I go with the usual next gambit of offering tips for using the services. One of the passengers volunteers that they used to drive for a rideshare platform, so they were curious if any of the tactics I am going to share are new. We then talk about tactics, and I venture that if you are OK working with drunk people, it can be lucrative due to surge pricing. 

I've learned, over the years, not to make a lot of (in some cases, any) eye contact with passengers. It can come off as confrontational, and my focus is on the road; that's where the deer, police, potholes, pedestrians, other drivers, are. So I haven't really looked at these folks, and, well, won't.

The passenger then contributes that when they drove, they weren't comfortable with drinkers. I shrug and note that it's easier for me, since my mother has been a bartender for so long, and I present male. That's the exact words I used, because I have known folks in transition, and well, why not. It's just accurate.

There's a pause, as if the passenger is wondering if they should say the next thing, and then they do. "Well, that's interesting. I'm trans, and I never thought of it that way."

Telling a complete stranger your orientation is, I suspect, a moment of trust. It can go badly, of course, or take the conversation into places they might not want to go. But my read of the situation is that this person is new to the area, encouraged by a moment of conversational inclusion, and not really looking to share their full journey with me. So I nod, don't change my demeanor or cadence or eye contact, and continue the journey, with points about the region that may be of interest, after confirming that they are, in fact, new to the area.

The conversation continues, the ride ends. The next day, I see a tip that doubles my take for that ride... 

And, well, that's one ride where I do not question my choices.