Uber And Under by Mike Bozart - HTML preview

I was reading an online article about Uber, Lyft, Juno, etc., when I remembered that Agent 889, a 33-year-old Caucasian dude, drove for Uber. Having no other ideas for a short story at that sparsely parsley-free moment (though, we still had thyme; ok, I’m punning out), I decided to have this particular agent pick me up, and once in his vehicle as his lone fare, I would hopefully gain a candid assessment of the popular quasi-taxi – or, ridesharing as its popularly called – phenomenon.

I tilted my cheapo LG semi-smartphone to reduce the glare on the screen and then punched in his 10 digits. After a few seconds, a phone-to-tower connection was made. On the third ring, he answered.

“Is this you, Mr. Gaytheist, [sic] aka Agent 33?” Here we go. He’s already in not-so-rare form.

“Gaytheist? You know that I’m just a fence-walking fagnostic, [sic] Agent 889.”

“Fagnostic? That’s hilarious!” Shep (an alias for Agent 889) started laughing. Five seconds later he had calmed down enough to continue talking. “Well, how is non-fagnostic Agent 32 [Monique, my Filipina wife] doing?”

“She is doing well,” I replied. “And, how about your better half?”

“Agent 890 is doing fine, 33.”

“Good to hear. Listen, Shep, are you still driving for Uber?”

“No, I quit driving for Uber about two months ago. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Uh, no. Just curious, why did you stop?” I bet that he’s recording this call. He’s probably going to use what I say in a future short story. Agent 33 had better not print my real name. I’ve heard that they go after people who make negative comments about the company.

“I quit because I couldn’t make any decent money. I was just wearing out my car for chicken feed.”

“Oh, so you weren’t making the advertised $25 an hour?”

“Not hardly. After the deductions, not even close. Some drivers may gross that, but I sincerely doubt they’re netting that. With us living in far eastern Mecklenburg County (NC, USA), and me only being able to drive weekdays between 9:00 AM and 3:00 PM, Uber just wasn’t cutting it. I still work at the restaurant practically every night. It’s still my fulltime and primary job. Uber was just going to be for supplemental income. It’s funny, I made less money – not more – the longer I did it.” The law of diminishing returns?

“Maybe you weren’t doing it right, 889.” I chuckled. “You know that there are manuals out there with diagrams and pictures.”

“Very funny, 33. Now please go fock [sic] yourself.”

We both started to chortle … and uncannily stopped at the same time. Right on cue.

“Are there too many drivers now, you know, like real estate agents?” Or, cockroaches in a cheap motel room?

“I don’t know, 33. I think it’s just that my locale and available times weren’t an ideal fit. I think the best place for an Uber driver to live in Charlotte would be somewhere between the airport and uptown, or maybe between uptown and UNCC. [University of North Carolina at Charlotte] And, you really need to be able to work the weekend nights, which I couldn’t.”

“Are Uber drivers allowed to pick up customers at CLT?” [Charlotte-Douglas International Airport]

“Yes, they have a designated pickup area for Uber and Lyft.”

“I see. Hey, did you ever have any strange riders?”

“A few, but they were harmless. Never had any threatening types. No attacks or robberies.”

“Well, that’s certainly good to hear.”

“Just had some oddballs from time to time. Mostly calm, overly medicated, prescription-drug addicts and early-starting alcoholics.”

“Any interesting conversations?”

“I’m not a big talker, especially with complete strangers. If they didn’t initiate a conversation, I was content to let the ride go by in silence.”

“You didn’t even switch on the radio?”

“Well, sometimes I would ask what they wanted to hear if I thought they were radio types.” Radio types? What in the world?

“So, how did you dress, Chauffeur 889? A nice, sharp, black tuxedo with top hat?”

“Ha-ha. No, not that formal. Just casual pants and a collared knit shirt. A tuxedo is way overboard for UberX.” UberX?

“UberX sounds like some gothic-crotch superhero or cryptic cipher.” Gothic-crotch superhero? He’s obviously zonked [sic] on something … something that I need to get a hold of.

“Might we be high on those magic granules again, Agent 33? Would we have some left? Don’t lie to me. Tell me the truth.”

“No, I’m not granulated, 889. Now, please grant me a minute of forbearance.”

“Ok, dissertate.”

“Let’s see … über is a German word that is commonly used to connote a supreme example of something; however, its precise German definition is also used, which is over or above. Thus, over and above letter X on a standard QWERTY keyboard are the letter keys S and D. Sex and drugs. I knew I would crack the code!” I started to chuckle. What in the hell is he talking about now? He must be back on the nitrous, [oxide] I would laughingly bet.

“Jibber-jabbering the gibberish already, 33? It’s not even noon. If you can’t make it to the PM before imbibing, you definitely have a major problem, my friend. Please get some help. Seek medical attention before it’s too late.”

“Thanks for that PSA, [Public Service Announcement] pal. Now, back to UberX.”

“UberX is the baseline, lowest-cost, economy service.”

“I see. Got it. Hey, Shep, did you hear about that Uber lawsuit settlement?”

“Which one, 33?” How many are there?

“Oh, I forget.” He’s baked like yesterday’s cake.

“Well, I’m sure that the law firm made a nice haul and the drivers got a nickel.” He’s probably right.

“In your opinion, Shep, would it be better if the drivers were actual Uber employees instead of independent contractors?”

“I didn’t mind being a 1099-er. [sic] I wasn’t locked into a schedule with Uber. If I woke up with a hangover, I didn’t have to work. However, I know that some drivers are seeking that. These are the drivers in the big cities wanting to make Uber their sole, fulltime job, I think.”

“Last question.”

“You promise, 33?”

“Hmmm … maybe. And, maybe knots.” [sic] Naughts?

“Is your battery light not flashing yet?”

I chuckled. “No, not quite yet, Shep. You’re still on the meter. Taxi humor, get it?” Oh boy …

“Please end this agonizing mind-grind, 33. Go ahead and give me the closer, and let’s cease this inquisition.”

“Ok, if you could change just one thing about Uber, what would it be, Agent 889?”

“That’s an easy one, 33. More money for the drivers. A bigger chunk. We’ve got to pay for the fuel, maintenance, wear and tear, insurance, and taxes. If Uber reduced their commission slice from 20% to say 12 or 13%, they still would be making zillions of dollars back in their posh San Francisco offices. And, it would probably help quash, or at least subdue, drivers’ push for employee status.”

“That’s funny, Shep; I think I read that the trend is going in the opposite direction. Some new drivers are agreeing to give up 30% of the fare to Uber in some major cities.”

“Well, I guess that I’m not really surprised, 33. It’s always investors first and foremost. I knew that before I started. Though, I think they may be reaching a point where they can be undercut by local copycats.” He might be right.

“Well, I’ll let you go now, 889. Thanks for your prime time.”

“127.” Huh?

“127 what?”

“127 times 7 is 889. It’s not a prime number, 33.”

“Is 127 a prime number?”

“It is, 33.”

“So, both of our agent numbers are the products of primes.”

“Yes, that is correct.” How did we get on this topic?

“Now, tell me, Agent 889: When will you launch your Charlotte-centric ridesharing application?”

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