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.
My 2016 Honda Civic was parked outside by the curb, in front of my apartment. I hit the remove-start button as I was getting ready to leave the house. I’ve smoked a cigarette outside before getting into a car. I needed a quick carwash and gas. I was only low on gas and needed a full tank every time before I’d hit the road. The leased car was a pleasure when I had to pay for it with my corporate paycheck. Now that the times have changed and the tides left me hanging like a douchebag high and dry, I had to drive for days and days to pay for that fucking payment and insurance and maintenance and gasoline and a regular carwash and so on. I can’t remember I was ever concerned about these standard costs before. But now every dime was a concern of mine. Every dime counted.
I’ve parked by the pump at Wawa, inserted my debit card, put in my pin number, selected the “87 Unleaded,” and started pumping gas into the Civic. The digits on the screen shifted fast as the pump pumped the gasoline and I saw how the “$” number increased with every second, putting me even more in debt. Thirty-five dollars and fifty-six cents was the total at the pump. That’s about seven average city trips, estimated I in my head. I went inside to get a few things. I needed a coffee, a pack of cigarettes, and a protein bar, just in case, I’ll get hungry and there would be no chance to pull over anywhere. I’ve got all the items and paid at the register. They told me to “Have a great day” and I said the same. I was so generic it didn’t even mean anything. I was smoking outside quietly listening to the warm early Spring’s breeze and the traffic moving on the boulevard. Civic was parked quietly in front of me with a full tank of gas. Civic knew that there will be a shit ton of driving today. I was hoping there would be a lot of work too. Also, I was hoping that none of those drunk assholes would mess my car.
I finished smoking and got into my car. I’ve placed the ‘Uber’ stickers on my front and back windows. Pandora radio was playing ab upbeat electronic music and I was pulling out of Wawa and into the Boulevard, and into the Saint Patrick’s Day traffic.
The sun was up and the music played loud, I had my sunroof opened and the warm wind was blowing over my head. The sunny weather will make anybody feel better. Good up-tempo music will do the same. The 95 was pretty open and it didn’t take me too long to get to the City. The City of Brotherly Love was right there in front of me with all its skyscrapers on the horizon, and new apartments buildings raised amongst the old once, mixing perfectly in the whole gentrification agenda; various office buildings, churches, hotels, restaurants, bars, bridges and anything else the City has to offer. I’ve turned my Uber app on as I was approaching the nearest Exit to the City and waited for a first signal to come through.
It didn’t take long. The Uber app made a request signal and I tapped on the screen accepting it. The passenger, Mike, was about one-point-two miles away and I was on my way to pick him up, somewhere in the Old City.
“Hi, Mike?” Said I, kind of asking and confirming the passenger’s name at the same time.
“Yes, John?” He did the same, looking at his phone, possibly comparing the profile picture to my face. Which was always a stretch.
“Yes, that is me. Come on in.” Said I smiling.
“Thanks for picking me up, man.” Said Mike with a slight relief and appreciation in his voice.
“No problem, man. This is what I do. How are you today?”
“I am good, and yourself?”
“I am good too, thanks.”
That was all the conversation we had during the entire three-mile trip. I don’t like to talk to strangers or passengers for that matter. I feel like talking to people about random things was just exhausting and tiring. I needed the energy because I was working as an animal around the clock. I couldn’t afford to waste my energy on empty talks with all those people who I will not likely never see in my life again.
“Ok, Mike, here you are,” said I as we were near the destination. “Let me know where should I stop for you?”
“You can stop here. Thanks, man.” Said Mike and opened the car doors.
“No problem, have a great day.” Said I “completing” a trip in the app. I’ve turned off the hazard lights and resumed my endless trip into the City’s life.
The City was getting busier with every minute and I could see people walking back and forth about their business. They seemed, for the most part, to be sober. But it wasn’t the evening just yet. The City is an interesting animal. It houses all kinds of breeds and types. I can offer a lot and at the same time, take away a lot from you. On one hand, it felt good to be here, driving around, helping these people to get around, be part of the local social scene. On the other hand, I felt like I am just a nobody. I used to be part of the City’s scene back when I was in college and I spent my entire days and nights in the City trying to get some education and some life. It didn’t work out well or too good for me in the end and now I am just a servant, just a driver, just a nobody.
The Uber app made another request noise, I looked at the screen and there is was, another client. I tapped the “Accept” and followed the directions on the screen. One thing interesting about this all is that I never know where I am going next and who I will be picking up and for how long will be my next trip. The second interesting thing is that will I make enough trips and money by the end of the day or until the end of my endurance? It was an Uber “POOL” request which I usually don’t like taking.
“POOL’” is just the cheaper way for a passenger to get around but at the same time, it is the most fucking annoying way for a driver. The driver has to go out and pick up two-three random people and then drop them off one after another whoever is located closer along with the route. Throughout all that experience there is usually an awkward silence and weirdness inside the car because not me nor the passengers themselves enjoyed being so close to other strangers and pretend like they don’t mind it. It all meant efficiency for Uber as a company but there wasn’t much for a driver after all. Also, people who requested the “POOL” service, nine out of ten, were poor and/or needed a quick ride. They usually looked weird, smelled weird, were going to or from some weird places, and often lived in some fucking weird neighborhoods with bad roads and bad traffic and everything looked and felt bad about those trips. It was accentually too much hustle for not that much of the money in the end. Fuck “POOL”.
“Hi, how are you?” Said I greeting another happy customer.
“Hi, good, how are you today?” She asked.
“I am good, thank you.” I turned the thing on, and on we went. As I melted into the street’s traffic there was another “POOL” request and I had to take it. I was that desperate. I hit “Accept” and went around the block to pick up another passenger
“Hi, how are you?” The usual routine.
“Hi, I am good, how are you?”
“I am good, thanks.” I was sure he didn’t give two shits about how I was and neither did I. There was still one more place for one more “POOL” client and I was hoping I didn’t get one but surely another request came in in the next minute.
I’ve dropped off one of them at Ogden St, another at 15th, picked a new one at Samson, and drop him off at Arch. At one point I’ve selected the “Stop new requests” button because somebody had to end this closed loop of misery. I’ve picked the last “POOL” client on Chestnut and dropped him off on the Second Street. I’ve made a full circle now, back to the Old City again.
It has been one of the busiest days I’ve had that year. I’ve received an “uberX” request and drove for two miles and change and made all six dollars and change. Then, I happened to be on Broad Street, also known in Philadelphia as the Avenue of Arts. The South Broad was really nice and always busy part of the City with a bunch of fancy hotels, theaters, restaurants, bars, handouts, intersecting with all other major streets in the City. The North part of Broad, however, was a total opposite.
I was about six-thirty and I was driving there trying to get some business. The request came in and was from a girl, Jessica. I had to make a semi-illegal U-turn to get on the other side of the street but that was the least of my concerns. There were too many people and I wasn’t sure where Jessica was. I’ve parked on the corner with hazard lights on and waited. I’ve waited for a couple of minutes. Nobody showed up. I’ve sent a quick message “I’ve arrived” through the app and waited some more. My phone rang.
“Hi?” Said I confused.
“Hi, where are you?” It was loud on the other end of the phone and the girl was talking rather loud too. She may have been under a few beers already, I assumed.
“I am right next to a restaurant, here on the corner of Broad and Chestnut. Where are you?”
“I don’t see you.”
“I don’t see you either. My GPS is telling me that I have arrived. Did you move somewhere?”
“We are on Broad. Where are you?”
“I am on Broad too, right next to this steakhouse. There is a Starbucks across the street from me. I am basically parked at the light. Do you see the silver Civic with hazards on?” I was getting impatient. This fucking request was already getting annoying.
“I see Starbucks, I don’t see you!” She was kind of talking and kind of screaming. There was a man’s voice heard on the background.
“Well, I am here; I don’t know how to better explain. Can you share your live location, maybe I can get closer to you?”
“What? We are walking to Starbucks. I don’t see you.”
Oh, what the fuck is wrong with you, woman! – I thought.
“Ok, I am right across the street from Starbucks. Just cross the street and at the light and you will see the silver Civic on the corner with the blinkers on.”
“Ok, we are crossing the street now.”
“Ok.” I was watching the rearview mirror people walking around and crossing the street. I saw a girl and a guy walking towards the car. The girl seemed rather hot, a blonde wearing a white t-shirt, a short black leather shirt, and hills. The guy looked like he just left the prison and he sounded like one for sure. Civic’s front doors opened.
“Hi, are you my Uber?” She asked
“Hi, I think I am. Are you Jessica?” asked I to verify.
“Yes,” said she getting into the car’s front seat. I saw the legs and my mood improved. I wasn’t pissed off at her anymore. It was strange that the girl got the front seat right away, especially, if there was nobody on the back seat. The guy got the back seat half a minute later.
“What’s up, brother?” He said loud with his raspy low voice.
“Not much, how are you?”
“I am good, brother. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Sure,” I’ve tapped the screen on my phone starting a trip. It was a long one, a little over fifteen miles, destination Delran, New Jersey.
“Hey sister, that fucking place, man, what the fuck was that? Did you see that faggot? That fucking motherfucker, I would fuck him up. That fucking asshole. Ha-ha-ha-a-a-a-a.” He sounded like he almost killed somebody and was super proud of it.
“Yeh, fucking asshole.” The girl sounded just like him now. It was getting more interesting and clearly more entertaining. They probably were a brother and sister in real life and I had to listen to this tough-guy-talk for another thirty minutes.
“Yo, I just didn’t want to start anything in Philly, you know. This is shit is bad. I just don’t need all that shit in my life right now. But I would fuck this guy up like a little bitch! Ha-ha-ha-a-ha-a-a.” He sounded like a champ.
“And that girl that was just standing there and looking and I would fucking punch her too.” Damn, this conversation is just getting off the hook. That fucking place was just too crowded, everybody was in my face, everybody was pushing. I was fucking pushing them around also when I had to go pee in the bathroom.” Talking about her getting pee kind of sounded hot to me. I was getting horny just be side-looking at her legs right there on my front seat and now she’s talking about going to pee. What the fuck is all this about?! I was trying not to look at her legs but it was hard to resist. Plus, I wasn’t sure about the tough guy on the back seat. I surely didn’t want him to fucking knock me out.
“Let’s go home babe, back to Jersey, yo. I love fucking Jersey, man. Fuck this place.”
“There could be a crowd at the “Dooney’s” now. It is kind of just getting started.” Said the girl with hopes for a wild night at yet another bar.
“Yeh, the “Dooney’s” is the shit! I love that place. Said the tough guy. -How are you, my man?” He asked me.
“I am good, man thanks. You guys are having a good celebration?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe, of course! Hahahaha. We are celebrating Saint Patty’s, man. I love Saint Pattys. Do you want to come with me and my little sister to celebrate?” He offered.
“I wish I could, man. I got to work, though. It’s a busy day today.”
“I hear you, man. But you could get a little Guinness and some whiskey for the sake of a holiday, could you?”
“I think I will eventually, but only after work.”
“Finish work now and let’s go celebrate. We will need you to take us back home after “Dooney’s”. Ha-ha-ha-ha-a-ha-a. Hey sister, can you call Jack and see if he is there already?”
“Ok, let me call him.” Said the sister.
It took her three calls to get through but, eventually, they have arranged the meeting at that bar. We were almost there and I was so tired of listening to this guy’s raspy-rough voice. He sounded like he never missed a cigarette and a cold one in his life. His sister even though she was a hottie, was the same hard ass and her brother and I think she could beat most of the men just like a man or just like her brother. Tough Irish babe.
“So, Jack is there, ha, sis? Jack is over there, babe! There will be a crazy night tonight.”
“Yeh, Jack, and Meggie are there and a bunch of other people is coming there soon. We are getting there in just the right time, brother.”
I’ve picked at her legs one more time before I parked on the “Dooney’s” parking lot. There were quite a few cars already. Some people gathering and smoking outside, talking and laughing and the celebration was just about to begin.
“Ok, thank you guys, and have a great night.” Said I with a slight relief and sadness. I will be missing those nice legs wrapped in that black leather skirt. I would gladly come with them and drink but that wouldn’t end great and I couldn’t afford it.
“Thanks, brother, I appreciate your ride. Take care, brother.”
“Thank you.” Said I. The tough guy opened the back doors and walked out. The sister opened the front door and stepped out taking her beautiful legs out on the parking lot and toward the bar’s entrance.
I’ve made a little over thirty-five bucks for that trip and know I was in Southern Jersey. I guess it was worth the hustle. The night was still young and I was getting hungry and wanted to smoke. Next stop – Wawa.
Wawa has become my second home, primary source for fuel, cigarettes, coffee, snacks, food, meals, toilet needs. Gasoline in Southern Jersey was always cheaper than in Pennsylvania so I was trying to get a fill-up every time I was there. Also, by some weird law, you were not allowed to use the pump yourself; all gas stations in Jersey use staff to fill up your tank. I pulled to the pump and the kid in his teens showed up asking me what gasoline I’d like to get. I told him and filled up my tank. After fueling I went inside to take a lick and get myself a sandwich. There weren’t too many people inside at this time of the day. I’d imagine everyone is at the bar somewhere trying to celebrate Saint Patrick to their best abilities. There was no line so I got my chicken sandwich fairly quick. Eating in the car was new and lately a usual thing for me. Where the hell else would l eat? I was basically living on the road. After I finished my sandwich, I went outside to smoke a cigarette.
It was warm out. I love the early Spring on the East Coast when it is getting warmer and after a long-ass winter, you can enjoy it and appreciate the whole mother nature’s “coming back to life” experience. I was familiar with this neighborhood and this part of Jersey. I used to work here and drive by and stop by this same Wawa almost every morning. How strange the times have changed and now looking back I thought, what the fuck happened to me? I used to have a nice, secure, full-time job, worry-free, just come to work and do the job and socialize with your coworkers and make a paycheck and go home to your wife. What else was there to do? At some point, the ground under my feet shook, and everything I had built that far fell down to ruins. I don’t know where it all began but I do know how it all ended. It all ended with me becoming unemployed and lately impossible to find a new job and now, Uber was my living, or rather a new lifestyle.
Living on the road, eating at Wawa’s, driving around days and nights, coming home for a quick nap and shower and back on the road again. Driving was hard, I needed to drive for about twelve to fifteen hours a day so I could make whatever I needed to cover the monthly bills and expenses. I had nothing left for savings. I don’t know what savings were anymore. All that mattered was to take one more trip and make a few more dollars and a little more and a little more until I was dozing out behind the wheel, which was the sign for me to wrap it up. I was hoping to make more money than during the average weekend because it was a drinking holiday and everyone needed an Uber to get around.
My GPS was set up to take me back to the City of Brotherly Love. It has been a busy night for me. There was one request after another and I was busy and happy working and counting the profits in my head. I put on some Dropkick Murphys’ music to kind of get into this Irish slash Saint Patrick’s state of mind.
“Nice music, man. You’ve got some Dropkick Murphys playing, nice!” One of the passengers said.
“Yeh, I like that stuff. It kind of goes together well with the holiday, you know?” I answered.
The later it became more of the drunk people I saw on the streets. I saw some young girls barely walking, being held-up by someone a little soberer. It was a weird and a kind of disappointing scene to watch. I could imagine all those youngsters puking all over, sleeping on the floors, having major hangovers tomorrow wishing they’d never drank that much. I saw all these people wearing green cloth, green heads, screaming at each other, laughing, smoking cigarettes, and openly walking with beers in their hands on the streets. It felt wild and crazy. Quite a few bars had these disposable bathroom booths set up right outside bars for the purpose to accommodate all those often pissing beer drinkers. There were people everywhere. It is the most alcohol-abused holiday in the US and Ireland.
“Have you had anybody puking in your car?” The girl passengers asked me.
“No, – I responded smiling, – not yet, thank God. Most of my passengers were pretty decent people.”
“My friend drives Uber too and she told me that somebody was drunk in her car and puked all over it. She wrote a complaint to Uber and they gave her two hundred bucks. I mean, it was nice to get two hundred bucks. How long does it take to clean up a pile of puke, right?”
“I guess so. Good for her, she got paid for that, I said. It must’ve felt weird to have this happened right in your car?” Said I.
“Yeh, but whatever, that was a good tip for her. She took a car to a carwash and cleaned it all up and was good to go.”
“I hear you.” This girl had no fucking idea what she was talking about. She clearly had never cleaned any fucking thing, especially not the stranger’s vomit. Damn, I wish that never happened to me. But it didn’t take too long.
It was getting a little after midnight and I was driving on South Broad Street. The new request came in and I’ve accepted. It was fairly nearby, in East Passyunk. I’ve pulled up next to the bar, put my blinkers on, and waited. Nobody showed up and I decided to send a passenger a quick text, reminding that I have arrived and was waiting. “Ok, coming out,” was the reply. I always hated to wait for anybody and especially on a busy night like this one, I was not making all the money I could. That mindless waiting and carelessness of passengers towards their Uber drivers were super frustrating.
The bar’s door open and a chubby, short fellow walked out. He was wearing eyeglasses, a nerdy-looking kid, probably in his mid-twenties. He didn’t seem to be drunk at all or that much to his credit.
“Hey, how are you? Are you having a nice celebration?” I asked smiling.
“Yes!” was all he said.
“Ok, sounds good.” I turned off the blinkers and started moving North up the street following the Uber navigation. Dropkick Murphys were still on my Spotify and I was full of energy and excitement to make as much money as possible. I’ve already completed 20 trips. Good run. I also thought, maybe if before two o’clock I’d made a good amount I can finish early and go to a bar and have myself a beer and a Jameson, just to be part of all this celebration and just because I liked to booze. I’ve been smelling the booze on my passenger all day long and that wasn’t helping. I was lucky to have most of them sober though. Nobody was causing any problems or inconveniences. It was a good day for work.
I’ve made a left turn, driving slowly, listening to Dropkick, counting my money in my head. The passenger was quiet all the time. I saw with my side view the phone screen lit up on the back seat. Just like everybody else, he was checking something on his phone. He has been way too quiet, I wondered. Whatever what do I care, I don’t like talking to people anyways. Then as I thought about that, I’ve heard a weird sound coming from the back seat. I gave it a minute before reacting and I felt rude just turning my head and checking directly on that guy. But I did it anyway. I’ve turned my head and in the dark with only a little light that came in through from the street I’ve caught this guy holding his handful of vomit. Shit! What the fuck it this, I thought!? “Are you ok, man?” He just nodded his head.
“Fuck, let me pull over. Do nothing. Don’t move. Just sit still and I am going to grab a door for you, ok?” He nodded again. I’ve pulled over to the right, the nearest curb, and walked out of my car fucking shaking with disgust and frustration. Fucking shit! Why the fuck did you do this in my car, you fucking asshole! – I thought. I walked around the car, opened the back door to let that drunk asshole out. He was still carrying all that puke in his hands like it was a treasure. As he walked out, he poured all that vomit on the sidewalk and started to clean himself with his own dirty hands. Holy shit. I’ve looked in the car for a moment, I couldn’t see much. I needed to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible.
“Ok man, I have to leave you right here, I cannot drive you anymore. I am going to cancel this trip. Take care.” Said I and didn’t wait at his response just got back into my car and drove off. He just stood there looking at me stupidly and confusing and kind of understanding too. Fuck him I thought. I was raging with anger and frustration. I didn’t know what should I do first. Should I stop working and go home? Should I go and clean my car? Should I call Uber and report this? It was only half-past midnight. The fucking real work has just begun. I wanted to make it to the nearest intersection, made a turn and pulled over again, trying to find a better-lit part of the street so I could better estimate the damage done. I’d figured it wasn’t too bad. Maybe I’ll just clean it myself real-quick and resume working. I will take care of the rest tomorrow.
I came to work prepared that day. I had a roll of paper towel, a Windex spray, and a car fragrance spray in my trunk. The first thing I did was to turn all the lights on inside the car and open all the windows. I’ve thrown the floor mat right out the fucking way. I was sure some of that stupid vomit dripping down on it. The next thing I saw was some smears on the side of the door and the handle. I’ve sprayed it with Windex and wiped it with paper towels. I’ve sprayed the entire back seat and the doors from inside and out and wiped everything carefully. I’ve must have used half of that paper towel roll after I was done cleaning. Then I needed to spray the Febreze spray all over the car to kill that fucking smell. I was doing it super-fast and it felt like in under just five minutes I’ve cleaned everything and my car looked and smelled like nothing ever happened. The Febreze and its “Ocean Breeze” smell was a bit too dense but I’d rather smell that then somebody’s vomit. I’ve pulled my phone and reported a complaint to Uber.
I drove down to the Broad street with my windows opened. I felt disgusted. I felt like I don’t want to be in my car anymore. I don’t even fucking need this car anymore. All I was thinking was that fucking fat guy holding his own puke in his heads and looking stupid at me. This was the very first time anybody ever did that in my car. I was so discussed and angry I had to change my fucking music. No more Dropkick Murphys. Fuck that god damned Saint Patrick’s celebration and that Irish stupid drinking until overdose bullshit. I‘ve turned the app back ‘Online’ and waited for the new request. it didn’t take too long. In under just three minutes, the familiar app’s request noise came off and I’ve tapped “Accept”. The navigation was guiding me towards the next customer.
There were two of them. I was assuming the father and the daughter.
“Hi, how are you?” They both asked.
“I am good, thank you. How are you tonight?”
“We are good, thank you. Just trying to get home. We were visiting some friends and family.”
“I hear you.”
“Wow, the car smells great and is clean as well!” The daughter said. I thought, girl, you don’t even want to know what happened there fifteen minutes ago right where you sit.
“Thank you! I like to keep it that way, you know?”
“Yeh, great. Nice music too by the way.” Said the daughter. A trance music station on Pandora was playing some up-tempo music.
“Thank you.”
“How was your night? Were you busy tonight?”
“Yes, I’ve been busy all day and night. It is that day of the year when people need Uber the most, you know?” Said I smiling.
“Yes, it is good that people have that option. They don’t have to drink and drive, they can just order Uber.” Said the father.
“Yes, that is true. That is why I have a job. It is a Saturday also, so that along is the busiest day of the week. So, yeh, a lot of work today. Did you have a good celebration tonight?” I asked. “Yes, it was a great celebration, as you can see, we are both drunk.” Said the father and we all laughed since we all knew everybody was pretty sober. I liked that guy, he had some sense of humor.
“That’s right, you are the drunkest passengers I’ve had tonight.” Said I smiling. They continued laughing. In about two minutes I got them home. “Thank you very much. It was a nice ride. Be safe out there.” Said the daughter. “Thank you very much, and here is a bit extra for you.” Said the father and handed me a five bucks tip.
“Thank you both very much. Have a great night!” Said I smiling. Wow, what a payback. What a great and generous people. Life was back to normal. I kinda felt a bit guilty and shameful for having those two sitting in my car right after that fucking asshole puked all over himself in there. But what could I do? Let this be a big mystery for everybody. I will never tell anybody what has happened in my car tonight.
This was one of the busiest nights I’ve ever had. I have completed thirty-two trips in one “workday”. I’ve made my top dollar that night too. I made three hundred dollars in fares and tips plus the eighty dollars cleaning fee that I have claimed after that “little” incident. I was working late that night. The last trip I’ve completed was around three-thirty in the morning. I was tired and exhausted. I’ve turned the Uber app off and drove home.
I was shortly after four in the morning when I got home. I’ve poured myself some red wine I’ve got leftover from the day before and sat on my rocking chair checking my Uber app and my wages made for the day. Usually, by the time I was home all fares and tips synced in and I was able to withdraw all of my money made. I’ve always withdrawn my money every night before going to bed. I’ve slept better knowing that the hard-earned money was in my bank account and not in the fucking cloud somewhere. There was also a response from Uber regarding the complaint I’ve made that night. I sipped on my wine, got a bit inspired, and wrote them a description of events that led to this claim. They’ve wanted to see some pictures as evidence of the damage which I didn’t have. I wasn’t even thinking about that at the moment. That could’ve been a deal-breaker. However, everything has worked out in the end.
I took a shower and went to bed. My wife was sleeping there soundly. I’ve kissed her and turned on my back, right next to her, looking at the ceiling thinking. I’ve made five hundred dollars all together this week, driving just three days, plus I was hoping to get another one-two hundred for the cleaning fee once I settle with Uber over the damages. That was a lot of money for me, driving Uber. I was happy. I was so happy I forgot how tired I was. This is how every fucking dollar was important and made the difference for me regardless of how it was made. The wine was getting to me and made me drowsy at once. I’ve dozed off without even knowing it. Tomorrow was another day.
Appendix:
I want to report a safety concern.
Sunday, March 18, 12:35 am
UberX – Canceled
Me: Date of a trip: 3/18/18
Time of a trip: 12:40 am
Was Anyone Injured? No
Share Additional Details: Rider puked in my car!!!!! I had to get him out. I need reimbursement for that fucking incident!!!!!
G:
Hi John,
Thanks for reaching out, we take matters like this seriously. Every rider should treat you and your vehicle with respect.
Can you please send photos of the mess with a quick description of the situation?
We will review and let you know if the rider can be charged with a flat rate cleaning fee. In the future please submit pictures via the form linked here or in the “Help’ and ‘Rider Feedback’ section in the app.
Thank you for your patience.
Me:
Hi, thanks for getting back to me. I’ve picked up this guy from a bar around 12:40 am, asked if he had a great celebration, he said “Yes!” He walked a bit sideways, but this weekend a lot of people did. I started driving and a couple of minutes after I’ve heard a strange sound from the back. I turned my head over to the back seat as I was driving and the guy had a handful of the puke dripping all over him and my car. I pulled to the nearest sidewalk and told him that he needed to get out of the car. He agreed. I opened the doors for him. He took the dripping mess out to the street. There was puke on the side of my doors, backseat and floormat. I had to throw out the floor mat asap since I didn’t want that stank in my car. I had some paper towels in my trunk and Windex. I’ve sprayed the car and wiped out all the puke I’ve seen. There were no photos taken of the mess at the moment, I wasn’t even thinking about that at the time. I was trying not to throw up myself and clean that mess asap before it soaked up. Secondly, that is too fn discussing and I don’t need that filth on my phone/cloud. The phone was still on the dashboard. It is good that I have some scented spray that I could spray around and kill the bad smell. I needed to continue to work, there was a lot of work today. I will send you pictures of my backseat and the car floor with a missing floor mat. I took these only after I saw your response. I do believe I need to take my car to a full-detailing to get rid of all those leftover bacteria and puke spills in my car. Please let me know if any actions are required on my side. Thank you.
2 images attached.
G:
Thanks for reaching out.
Unfortunately, we are having trouble seeing what is in that photo. Please attach a clearer image of the actual mess so that we can review it.
We appreciate your patience.
Me:
Hi, unfortunately, maybe a stranger never puked in your car, so this is hard to imagine. Now, that is daylight outside I took some more pictures that show the spots that were left on my backseat and doors. Let me know if that makes sense. As I said earlier, I’ve thrown out the floor mat full of that puke, so there is no actual puke left over for the next day’s evidence. I am sorry about that, next time I will be better prepared to capture the evidence. But when this actually happens in your car, you don’t think about pictures, you think about getting that shit out of your car. These are greasy stains on my backseat and doors, see the images to prove what I have reported. I need to do a full car detailing and wash my car’s interior to get rid of the stains, smell, and drunken-ass bacteria. I hope I have made my concern clear, let me know if not. By the way, it has been a St. Patrick’s celebration day in Philly yesterday. Please let me know if you need anything else from me and if we can move forward with this claim? Thank you very much for understanding.
4 images attached
G:
Thank you for the additional information, John. We’re sorry to hear about the mess. Can you please confirm that date, time, and pick up location of the trip to make sure that the correct rider will be charged? Thank you for your patience.
Me:
I made these screenshots, one of them has a trip id on it. Let me know if this helps.
2 images attached.
M:
Sorry to hear about the mess in your vehicle and for any inconvenience this incident may have caused you, John. We’ve charged the rider a cleaning fee of $80 as assessed based on the type of mess and the photos you have sent, which was added in full to your account – no Uber fee will be taken from this. Your next weekly payment statement will include this as a miscellaneous payment.
To clarify, we can only reimburse you for cleaning fees. We’re unable to charge riders for estimates of lost time or earnings.
Based on your feedback, we’ve taken measures to minimize the chances of you being paired with this rider in the future.
In case you have any other questions or concerns, please feel free to reach out.
Added payment of 80.