Let’s go!
I accidentally signed up to be an Uber driver. I know this seems like something that should not be allowed to happen and I agree. But somehow, I did, in fact sign up. It happened when I was getting ready to go on a company trip. I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone by asking for a ride to the airport and I thought using Uber would be fun, so I added the app to my phone a few days before leaving. My husband and father thought me using Uber did not sound fun at all. In fact, they agreed that I would definitely end up in the trunk of a car bound and gagged. The feminist in me screamed “how dare you! I can do this myself!” and the realist in me agreed that it was probably not a good idea for a woman traveling alone to hop in the backseat of a stranger’s car. It was probably for the best considering when I tried to use the app I realized that I had not done what I had intended to do. Somehow I managed to sign myself up as a driver instead of a passenger.
I quickly forgot about this and went on my merry way until I got a statement in my e-mail the next week telling me that I had not earned any money since I did not pick up any passengers. So now I almost feel like I got double dog dared by Uber and I need to go start driving people around. That weekly statement is telling me I failed and I need to go start earning some dough. I have been thinking about how I should probably cut down on swearing at other drivers while on the road and this could probably help. I am on my best behavior when other people are sitting right next to me. I even thought about what music they might like to listen to. I know not everyone likes punk rock in general, but I think everyone can agree on the Ramones. I’ll leave the heavy stuff for the younger passengers. I cold even introduce people to some music they might never hear otherwise. I would make my car the perfect temperature and have breath mints available. I could have nice conversations with new people. Maybe I could even help people with their problems like bartenders do at bars. It would be like therapy on wheels. “Climb right in and relax. We can listen to a little Sonic Youth while you tell me about how your mother neglected you as a child and that is why you find it hard to relate to women.” I could save the world one drive to the airport at a time. Or I could end up bound and gagged in my own trunk. Sorry Uber, I am going to have to quit before I even started.
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