Uber Story: Saint Patrick’s Day

I woke up with a little bit of a headache on St. Patrick’s Day morning. I’ve had some wine last night. I was tired of driving 16 hours for Uber and when I came home, I decided to take it easy. My life was not easy then and everything seemed to be working against me. I’ve lost two nice corporate jobs last year and now I’ve been full-time employed, or self-employed, or whatever the fuck you call this, driving for Uber. I’ve become just “a driver who drove random people around the town for a living.” I was also an inspired writer who never fucking had any time to sit down and write anything because all I could think about was how in the fuck am I going to pay my bills this month. Seven years of college and ten years of professional business career experience went to shit and all of a sudden, I was not needed anywhere and starving for money. My shit was out of luck and so was my life.

March 17th, 2017 was a nice, warm, and sunny day. Perfect weather to get shit-faced for a holiday like that. I woke up feeling sick and tired but I had no time or opportunity to recover from the constant sleep deprivation, habitual frustration, anxiety, light obesity, anger management issues, light form of alcoholism, and impulsive smoking. A complete package. Little that I knew what this day will bring to me later on.

The cold water was running down from my faucet into my hands as I was trying to wash away my tired, puffed-up, swollen face. It felt great, very refreshing. I don’t think it was helping my bad life situation and overall sadness but it was something. I brushed my teeth, took a shower, and made my breakfast. The usual routine. Nothing special. I thought about a bottle of cold beer in the fridge but then I thought about the smell of it in the car and the passengers possibly complaining and Uber locking down my account. Fuck that, I thought. That wasn’t an option. But it was a Saturday, a St. Patrick’s Day for fuck’s sake, who would ever complain about the alcohol smell? I couldn’t take any risks. I needed the money. The bills were handing over my head like a ton of bricks waiting until I wasn’t ready and then fall down on my head squashing me and my misery creating just a puddle of shit on the pavement. All I needed was to survive another fucking working day.

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