Rideshare Experiences: Anger Issues, or Just a Bad Day?

The morning was moving along relatively uneventfully. A handful of local trips driving people to and from work, a mother and child daycare drop, and a construction worker heading to a job site.

Routine.

And then I picked up a person who approached my car with clenched fists and was ready to get into the ring.

The backdoor slammed hard. I turned down the music on the radio and said, “Good morning. Tuesday greetings!”

To which I heard a loud response, “Go f*** yourself!”

Well, I appreciate direct people. At least you know where you stand and it helps to steer the conversation, or lack thereof.

“Okay then, let’s get you to your destination.”

The ride was quiet, and thankfully short.

We arrived at the drop-off point, and the person exited the vehicle.

The door again slammed hard.

This was not my first ride with an upset or angry person. I suspect it will not be my last. As they say, it’s all part of the gig. However, for some reason, this ride stood out when I sat down to write a poem called “Angry.”

Angry

Angry when you got in.

Angry when you got out.

I knew that I wasn’t to blame for your state.

Still, there’s always a shadow of doubt.

 

Was it my hairline receding?

My color, my phone, or my sex?

Or maybe the radio playing?

An oldie by a band named T Rex?

 

I welcomed you warmly and kindly.

“Go f*** yourself,” you said so mean.

What do I do with so brutal a cue?

An actor stuck in a harsh scene.

 

It’s just not the same to imagine this game.

You need to be put to the test.

To offer a prayer, to engage or retract?

Or, simply to offer your best?

 

I aim to please and elicit a smile.

A laugh, or a wink, or a nod.

Yet, hope as I will, and swallow the pill.

Accepting the fact, I’m not God.

 

I can conjure a spirit of wisdom and wit.

With a dose of theatrical flair.

But despite every effort of my proven charm.

Many people simply don’t care.

 

Gardens are wasted and treasures denied.

Maybe not even in view.

A prison of sorts. Barricaded and locked.

The outside is stark black and blue.

 

Sometimes I look up in moments like these.

When my skills and performance fall flat.

How the soul in my backseat can somehow be helped.

And lifted from where they are at.

 

Then you departed, just as you arrived.

Trapped on some miserable shelf.

The ride forced me to ponder the great mystery.

How does one “Go f*** themself?

Are you Bruce Almighty?

Sometimes I think people mistake me for the fictional character, Bruce Nolan played by Jim Carrey in the 2003 film, Bruce Almighty. God, played by Morgan Freeman, gives Bruce all his powers because Bruce believes he can do a better job than God.

I don’t perform miracles.

I possess no such superpowers. I’m not a deity or a deity wannabe.

Several times each week people get into my vehicle and tell me they’re running late for work, school, the train, the airport, their doctor’s appointment, and so forth.

I often view these types of rides as challenging, especially if we’re only talking about 4 to 5 minutes behind schedule. I give it the old college try. In most cases, everything works out beautifully and riders appreciate the effort.

When there’s a 15 to 20-minute gap that needs to be reckoned with, it’s just not going to happen.

I envision that many rideshare drivers are often the excuse given to employers and others as to why the person arrived late.

Smile.

Well, I wrote a song about one such ride, and guess what?

Everything turned out magnificently.

Enjoy the Ride!

Let’s Ride

You were on the East side.

I was driving West.

You were heading uptown.

You put me to the test.

 

You climbed in and told me.

You were running late.

It sounded like a challenge.

We’re at the starting gate, oh yeah.

 

So, Let’s Ride.

Ride.

Ride.

 

We hit every green light.

So, I cruised right through.

You kept yelling, “Faster!”

I knew just what to do.

 

I picked up the tempo.

We were on a roll.

Signs were just suggestions.

I gladly paid the toll, oh yeah.

 

So, Let’s Ride.

Ride

Ride

 

In the long run how do you know?

When to stop and when to go?

Some frustration when the traffic slows.

But then an open freeway shows.

 

Hotter than my coffee.

Higher than a thrill.

The ride was simply magic.

I think about it still.

 

You were beaming brightly.

We made it right on time.

“Gracias.” “De Nada.”

We took it to the line, oh yeah.

 

So, Let’s Ride.

Ride.

Ride.

 

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My “Rideshare by Robert” blog continues with new stories based on my published book, “Rideshare by Robert: Every Ride’s a Short Story.” The book, and the blog, are short stories about actual rides, observations, revelations, and reflections on the rideshare experience. I hope you will find the writings informational with humor and compassion for the human family.

So, climb in, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

Welcome to “Rideshare by Robert.”

A place where anything can happen and usually does.

 

Disclaimer

I have tried to provide anonymity to all individuals portrayed in my writings while maintaining the integrity of the story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. And, in some cases, the not-so-innocent. I have substituted the characteristics of individuals in my writings to further my attempt to maintain anonymity. Conversations and other details are based on my best recollection and notes. Although I have spent time driving with many celebrities and public figures over the years, I have intentionally omitted their names, and their rides, in my writings. Actual locales, along with other details such as when and where the rides occurred, have been modified to maintain my objective of rider privacy and anonymity.