Yesterday I drove a normal “extra” day shift from 7a-5p. Some notes:

• I drove my favorite taxicab: the Toyota Camry Hybrid. Ample space, great handling, adequate (but not stellar) gas mileage, smooth ride, good stereo and accessories, nice pickup.
• I thought I would tire of cab driving after a year, but I still enjoy it. Approaching my third year. Scary! Admittedly, it is much more fun to drive just 1 or 2 days a week. When I drove 3+ per week it felt like a job.
• Thursday was a very busy day, owing in part to a fatal Muni accident which shut down all inbound/outbound Muni Metro service for a significant portion of the day.

  However, both as a dispatch order taker and as a driver I notice a significant improvement in demand for taxicabs (and thus earnings) compared to last year. Last winter was the toughest I ever experienced driving a cab, when $150 take-home seemed like an amazing accomplishment. (My all-time average prior was $170 per shift, so a peak of $150 per shift is extremely scary.)

  In the mornings in the dispatch office we notice significantly higher numbers of airport advances and generally higher numbers of inbound calls. On the street I’m again finding hails in unpredictable areas, a fun sign of increased demand.

  It is fascinating to directly experience fluctuation in demand for a service I provide that so closely parallels the greater economy.

• I had an amazing nonstop pickup streak yesterday. As a day driver, it’s tough for me to encounter this regularly, but some night drivers (especially on weekends) are very familiar with this feeling: when you drop and have an immediate or near-immediate followup fare it’s like a drug.

  Here’s mine:

  • Picked up a radio call at the St Francis hospital. An older woman got in my cab and we headed out to her home in the Inner Sunset. We spoke at length about her ailment, apparently some sort of muscle related pain in her legs. She’s going through physical therapy at the St Francis.

    I love the drive from St Francis hospital to the Sunset district. That’s fortunate for me, as countless elderly ladies seem to regularly commute to and from the St Francis hospital and the Sunset. They should have just put the St Francis in the Sunset.

    Depending on the traffic I’ll head down Hyde, out Turk to Masonic, out Masonic to Lincoln to 7th Ave and left. As we passed by an elder home I saw an elderly couple desperately hailing. Noted.

    Dropped off my St Francis fare and returned. They were still there!

  • Very short fare, from 7th Ave and Irving to the UC Hospital (near 3rd and Parnassus). Checked in via radio for an en route order at the UC Hospital. She was ready to go as soon as I arrived and heading toward Glen Park.

    When I first started driving I wouldn’t have been excited to go to Glen Park from the UC. The optimal route is difficult to determine given rush hour traffic and traffic signal priorities, and Diamond Heights/Glen Park is rather maze like. In my wiser years my ways have changed. I worked out a nice path and we flew down O’Shaughnessy with Toyota’s Hybrid drivetrain whining in pleasure as it gobbled up regenerative juice.

    After dropping checked in for an order nearby in Bernal Heights. Another case of “if I had just started driving I wouldn’t know where the f* those streets are.” But, now I know and it was close by.

  • Picked up a middle-aged lady from the Bernal Heights Library. (Thanks for waiting, middle-aged lady.) She had just finished her weekly writing class which she enjoys immensely. Dropped at 23rd and Dolores.

    23rd and Dolores is rather residential and not a prime place for finding passengers or hailing cabs. I spent a minute filling out my waybill after my passenger had departed. To my surprise a man gave me the “eye” as he walked toward my freshly empty cab and I gladly welcomed him in. We headed downtown. Nice. $70 (revenue, not income) in about in hour. Keep up the good work, San Francisco economy.

• Thursdays I work in the dispatch office for a few hours before driving. Normally I answer incoming telephone requests for taxi service. I kindly greet our callers and enter / confirm their address, destination and special needs. Dispatch operations at our company use an older but very effective computer solution from the 90s. The system automatically remembers past callers and matches their address. I simply send this to the dispatcher’s screen and s/he sees all the currently open orders. (I’ve written about the radio dispatch process once or twice before.)

  Unfortunately this past Thursday our computers didn’t cooperate so we were forced to use the old fashioned system — paper and pen. I take orders (address and phone) on the left side of a pad of paper, the dispatcher finds cabs and writes the cab number on the right side of the paper.

  I was amazed at how well this worked. For the drivers and customers there was little difference between the two systems. We were able to dispatch drivers to hundreds of dollars worth of business with a phone, a pad of paper, and a motorola radio. Sometimes low tech is okay.

• Sometimes high tech is okay too. Thursday I made an extra $70 during my shift using Cabulous, smart phone software that connects individual drivers with passengers via GPS maps. (Disclaimer: I am an advisor to the Cabulous team.)

  So far the Cabulous team has been doing their best to balance the difficult equations of driver availability vs passenger demand on the Cabulous network. But, regardless of technology used, from hailing a cab with your hand to calling a company dispatch service, this is an impossible task.

  I’ve helped test the Cabulous driver system on the iPhone on AT&T and my BlackBerry 8820 on T-Mobile. Over the past 6 months of testing and subsequent public release regular usage I haven’t earned much more than $20 per shift and not usually exceeding 2 successful hails per shift using Cabulous.

  Yesterday was different. As usual, I used the J2ME CabulousLite app on my BlackBerry 8820 on T-Mobile. The “lite” app uses a very basic interface to let me login and then it simply periodically reports my GPS location to the Cabulous server. Twilio integration notifies me via telephone text to speech where people have hailed me, and if I accept then I can call the passenger directly.

  I was amazed by how much extra it earned me — I earned just over $70 just from Cabulous yesterday. I was also impressed how well it integrated with my normal sources of fares: street hails and traditional radio dispatch.

  Here are my Cabulous hails:

  • After picking up a radio dispatch order in Marina/Cow Hollow I was headed toward the JCC with a very precocious 5 year old and her adoring mother. (When I had pulled up to their luxurious abode the 5-year old clearly raised her hand to hail my cab. A lifelong customer.)

    Approaching the JCC I received a Cabulous call. (Unfortunately, there isn’t a good way to distinguish a Cabulous call from a personal call, my only hint is whether or not the incoming call registers as an existing entry in my personal address book.) Clicked on the speakerphone to hear madame Twilio say it was relatively close — Golden Gate and Scott. (Another “unfortunately”, the Twilio robot only gives me the raw address. As a somewhat experienced driver I’m able to ballpark the intersection hearing an address, but many new drivers wouldn’t be able to determine the pickup point without a cross street.) The JCC is at California and Presidio. 10 minutes max, more like 5.

    The fascinating part about Cabulous is that technology alone does not make the system successful – it’s half technology and half driver initiative that makes a positive experience for both the driver and passenger. As I use the system more it becomes clear that significantly more onus is placed on the driver to provide a good experience for the passenger with Cabulous than with traditional dispatch (and even traditional computerized dispatch solutions like DDS).

    I now call all passengers as soon as I accept the hail. I call them to accomplish a few key goals:

    • Establish a personal relationship: I identify my name and taxi company affiliation and confirm that they hailed me using Cabulous.
    • Confirm pickup location: “Are you at 2238 Geary at Divisadero?”
    • Sometimes I’ll ask their destination if it’s a distant location.
    • Estimate arrival time and receive verbal commitment that party will wait for me. This is crucial. In this case, “I’m about 5-10 minutes away, are you willing to wait?”

    The amazing thing here is that humans are much more willing to wait if they are “in” the queue and have an accurate estimate of time. Humans get very angry when they are queueing for an indeterminate amount of time, worse if they’re queuing for a falsely reporting amount of time, and worst of all if they’re queuing for an unknown time and believe that the queuing/fulfillment system is flawed.

    In this case, the above phone call addresses all the above common queue concerns: yes, you’re “in the queue”; yes, there’s an accurate estimate of time; yes, there’s a fair and transparent queueing system (it’s simple: you’re next).

    I picked up the fare at Scott and Golden Gate, and saw an empty taxicab drive by. My passenger didn’t even consider hailing him, he knew I was on the way. He paid me well. $20

  • I had picked up another radio order, also from Cow Hollow, but this time heading downtown.

    I received the Cabulous hail just after the passenger entered the vehicle. I’m a good sport so I accepted to see where they were — maybe they’d be close to our destination. (Unfortunately, a driver must accept the order before the location is revealed.) To my surprise the order was downtown, perfect.

    I called the passenger to confirm his location and that he was indeed willing to wait for me to arrive. Again, this is essential for both parties to have comfort with the transaction. He was still in an office and would wait for me to get there before even going down. Nice, captive audiences are best. I didn’t ask destination.

    After dropping my fare off nearby I headed around the corner and stopped at the address given and gave him a quick call. He saw me (told me my cab number and color from his upstairs view) and said he’d be down in a few. 10 minutes later I wondered if I had made a mistake. Should I have taken him at his word? Did he just grab another cab? I called him back, “I’ll be down in 5. Going to SFO.” He knew the magic words. Nice trip to the airport, $40.

  • Last fare was a pickup near Geary and Presidio. A bit challenging as the woman didn’t give me her actual address, just saying she was near the Best Buy. Not very helpful. We eventually came up with Geary and Presidio as a meeting point. Worked great. Another $12.

  A total of just over $70 from Cabulous. Nice.

• I picked up an older guy from the Kaiser. I’d guess he was 60+. I have a hard time judging ages, especially those +/-5 years from mine.

  He was heading back to his home in the Castro near the Seward Street slides.

  He’s gay. We talked a bit about that, especially about the recent hubbub surrounding legalization of gay marriages in California. “What’s the big deal?” he responded. “I lived with my partner for 40 years until he recently passed away. We didn’t need marriage to consummate our partnership.”

  He was still very affected by the recent passing of his partner. I acknowledged this sadness, but worked around it so it didn’t dominate our conversation.

  I prodded him and he spoke at length about the history of the Castro and gay bars around the City. Much to my surprise he mentioned the Castro as a gay neighborhood is a relatively recent invention. 50+ years earlier he remembered the Polk gulch as being the centerpiece of gay nightlife in the City.

  I live near the middle Polk neighborhood, so the rather prevalent gay venues I noticed in the area started to make more sense. From the Cinch gay bar to a gay photographer’s retail outlet near the Walgreen’s, Polk street still retains a lot of its gay heritage.

  My passenger continued to explain that upper Haight was the next stop on the tour, hosting a number of gay bars up through the 70s. The Castro as a gay haven developed most recently.

  We talked a bit about politics too. He was a huge Hillary supporter and rather worried about the seemingly ubiquitous Obama mania taking hold of young folks in the City.

  I was most impressed with his involvement in the gay community. He founded and continues to volunteer as a coach for a gay softball league. He did a few other community service things which I can’t remember now since I procrastinated a week to write this damn post.

  He admitted he was quite lonely with the recent passing of his partner, but his community involvement provides a wonderful and much needed regular social connection.

  I enjoyed our conversation and his willingness to openly share his emotional state and his knowledge of City history, especially with regards to gay culture.

  Thanks, guy.

• I took a Chinese family to the Excelsior/Outer Mission district. As is usual with fares heading this way, I had no idea where I was going. Their limited English was effective, but difficult to parse at times. I had a few good natured laughs to myself as I asked things like, “Should I turn right up here?” only to be answered with, “No! No! Turn this way!” as they pointed right.
• I took a bunch of lawyers from the Hall of Justice to their office in the Financial District.

  A couple things struck me as funny: as I was driving a van, the lawyers piled in. Thus, the vehicle held passengers whose combined yearly salaries most likely exceed $2,000,000. Yet, they entrust their expensive earning potential lives in the hands of unknown drivers. This is yet another good argument in favor of permitting of taxi drivers.

  I also found it worth noting that this $2 million taxi headed back through the Tenderloin, where we pass by pedestrians who make less in a year than the lawyers make in a day.

• I picked up another older guy from the Kaiser. He was in a happy, happy mood, having just been let ‘out of jail’.

  He was in the Kaiser for 12 days. He complained at length about the TVs in the hospital, claiming they only featured Spanish speaking channels. It seemed odd to me, but he insisted it was all over the hospital — all Kaiser hospital TVs only have Spanish speaking channels. Who knew?

• Sometimes I really, really have to pee, but I see people hailing. “I can’t pass up a fare!” I say.

  So I take them to their destination. Then I really, really, really have to pee. If I again encounter someone hailing before I can find a restroom, I’ll pick ‘em up.

  Then, I really, really, really, really have to pee.

  I reached the four-’really’-pee-alert level, but luckily no one was hailing as I sped toward the nearby Hyatt Regency and felt much better.

• I picked up a Dutch family who had called for a vancab at their Fish Wharf hotel to head toward the airport.

  Funny enough, they had just come from Indiana. The younger son of the family had just finished a yearlong exchange program at a high school in Fort Wayne.

  We shared tales of our enjoyment and frustrations with Indiana life. We compared transportation options in Indiana, San Francisco and the Netherlands. The Netherlands win. SF is runner-up. Indiana didn’t even get an honorable mention.

• I picked up a lady Tuesday mid-morning heading to her downtown job with a large piece of luggage. She mentioned she was heading toward the Oakland Airport later, what time should she get a cab? Did I want to take her? Based on her flight time, I thought she probably wouldn’t leave before my shift was over, so I told her to call dispatch and arrange a cab. But, when she called dispatch they suggested she get a cab quite early, early enough for me to have taken her.

  Hmm, I thought, this sucks. I could have gotten an easy $60 fare. So, I noted the cab appointment time in my head and planned on swinging by her office around that time when it was dispatched over the radio.

  Unfortunately I was a bit late from another fare. Another cab from our company was loading her luggage as I approached.

  But, here’s the funny thing: I ended up making more money in the 1 hour that remained in my shift than if I had gone to OAK. I wondered, does this happen more often than I realize? Maybe airport runs aren’t as lucrative as I thought? Closer to the truth, perhaps since it often takes so long to get BACK from the Oakland Airport it’s not really a super-great deal. Sure, if it’s early and quiet in the City, and traffic isn’t bad, an OAK run is great. But, late-morning, midday OAK runs may not be as lucrative as expected. Noted.

• I picked up a couple at the top of Nob Hill heading out to a performance of the Stern Grove Festival. They were fun.

  After a few blocks, the guy asked me if he could open a beer in the cab. Of course! (It’s legal in San Francisco for passengers to drink alcohol in taxicabs.) He knew it was legal, but was politely asking as some drivers still frown on the practice. I don’t care unless the passengers are openly drunk already.

  They were Frenchies from Paris and we chatted a lot. Even with their prodding I was to embarrassed to speak much in French, but I understood them well enough. They were very encouraging and suggested I check out a wine bar on Polk where Frenchies regularly congregate.

  We also realized that we’re both neighbors — we both live in Nob Hill.

  This got me thinking: do I serve my neighborhood more than other cabbies? Probably yes. Is this a bad thing? Probably not.

  In the mornings Nob/Russian Hills are good spots for fare roaming. Radio orders and street hails are frequent. Many other cabbies hunt there as well.

  After 9 or 10am the Hills aren’t as busy. Sure, there are still orders, but other sections of the City start to light-up too, like downtown and even outer neighborhoods like the Richmond and Sunset. But, there’s something alluring to come back to my home neighborhood. It’s comfortable; I can dash in and go pee or get something to drink at home; I know the streets very well; I know where people queue for Muni lines off the beaten path; I know which Muni stops are likely to coagulate with annoyed, waiting passengers; I know where the rich folk are likely to hail; I know where tourists defect from the cable car mid-line stops.

  Perhaps most rewarding, it’s nice to meet my neighbors.

• Sunday and Monday earnings were far above average; I earned a bit above $200 both days.
• I heard another cabbie complaining about the radio with the cashier. I understood the source of his anger, but also realized that the cashier couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe the cabbie should start a blog.

  Here’s the deal: an analogue radio dispatch system is imperfect. (I’ve written about analog radio dispatching before, look about halfway down this page.) But, also imperfect is the computerized* dispatch system used by the top two companies cab companies by fleet size, Yellow and Luxor. While I’ve never driven a computer dispatch cab, I still acknowledge that computerized dispatch lacks some of the key advantages of analog radio dispatch:

  • Analog radio dispatch is usually hands free unless you’re keying the mic to make a call, whereas computerized dispatch requires driver input to review calls, see calls in other areas, etc.
  • Analog radio frees cab operators’ eyes for the most important task: driving. Computerized dispatch requires operators to look at a small, poorly backlit, dot-matrix LCD screen while roaming the road.
  • Analog radio allows cab operators to passively receive data about cab demand at all parts of the City. Computerized dispatch only pages orders within a smaller geographic area, darkening a cab driver’s radar of demand for cabs in other City neighborhoods. Many times I’ll hear about a large party with many cab pickups across town that nets me a nice run (or even two)!
  • Analog radio requires significantly less fixed and per-vehicle capital outlay and maintenance costs.

  The most common imperfection with analog radio is actually a mix of technology failure and dispatcher error: not being heard (“read”) by the dispatcher when checking-in for a radio order.

  Usually this happens when my cab is beyond significant hills such as in the Marina or North Beach, where my lower power FM transmitter doesn’t quite reach back home at dispatch. But, sometimes a stressed dispatcher doesn’t (or can’t) take the time to acknowledge every cab that checks-in, especially when the City is slow and too many cabbies are desperate for orders.

  At these times, like that driver at the cashier window, I get really pissed off at the imperfections of the analog radio. The best strategy I’ve found for this is to yell really loudly in the cab. Choice phrases include, “DAMMIT!”, “F**K!”, or yelling the dispatcher’s name very loudly. Doing so actually brings a smile to my face and lets me continue hunting for fares.

  Some drivers simply take the order even if they weren’t properly checked; I don’t do this. If I’m really desperate for orders, and I’m very close to the call, I’ll radio the dispatcher to let them know I was probably the closest but wasn’t heard during check-in.

  *(Lingo check: the cab industry uses the colloquialism ‘computerized’ dispatch, whereas the mobile IT industry uses the term Mobile Data Terminal which also describes the computers used by police and other mobile vehicles.)

• I had a few Frenchies in quick succession.

  I picked up a guy from the Castro who wanted to head to the Civic Center BART station. I feel comfortable now digging a bit deeper to optimize rides, so I found out he wanted to go to the airport and suggested heading to the 16th Street BART station which was closer for us, and closer to the airport for him.

  I can usually pick out even slight German or French accents and heard a tint of French on this guy’s voice, so I asked if he was French. He was and tested my French with a few questions. He loved San Francisco but work requires him to live in LA. He and I agreed that SF is the closest to Europe one may find in the USA.

  He was from the south of France which sparked my interest as an old friend from Scotland is also. When I visited my French friend and his family I had a blast playing a game similar to bocce ball, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember the real name. My French friend kept referring to it as ‘boule’ (ball). (This caused a great deal of translation humor as he kept suggesting in English that we go play with his balls.) My passenger revealed the mystery game: Pétanque.

  I really appreciated the passenger bringing back those fun memories.

• I came across an older guy at Sutter and Leavenworth looking very confused hailing a cab. With very broken English he mentioned he and his daughter needed to get to Pier 33. His eyes lit up when I clarified Pier 33 in French. He seemed much more at ease as they piled in the cab and we headed up Leavenworth. Since my French is so bad now usually I’ll speak in basic English while the passengers speak in basic French. This worked out well.

  As we headed past the curvy portion of Lombard Street I offered to stop for pictures, but they had already walked the hill with cameras. A few blocks later the dad asked with a grin, “Well, maybe we can drive down it?” I laughed and readily accepted. I love driving down Lombard Street! Of course, it’s a great way to stretch a fare, but it’s also a beautiful street and I enjoy soaking up the view of our City through the eyes of visitors. I drove down Lombard safely but still quick enough that the rapid changes in centrifugal force from the tight turns was noticeable.

  I was honored that when we arrived at Pier 33 they felt comfortable asking me what was a fair tip. European foreigners aren’t always accustomed to tipping and sometimes won’t give me a tip at all, not out of spite but simply due to the lack of understanding of the importance of tipping toward my income. The fare was $10 and some change so I told them with a $20 to hand it to the driver and ask for $8 back if they had a good ride.

• I took two Japanese girls to the Moscone Center for the keynote speech by Steve Jobs at the Apple WWDC. They were excited to hear about the new iPhone. I was amused when one answered their phone and said, “Mushi mushi!” I didn’t realize they actually said that in Japan, thought it was just kinda a joke.
• I took a nice young lady to her event marketing job in SOMA. We talked about our jobs and making ends meet in the City. I realize that I make an erroneous assumption that my passengers always make more than I do. I told her my average take-home and she was surprised, saying it was significantly more (per hour) than she makes right now. I have to keep that in mind.
• Tuesday was an odd day — the radio was very busy with constant radio calls, but they were spaced far across the City and above average traffic made it difficult to get to the calls quickly.

  As I was heading out on Market toward numerous radio calls in the Castro and Upper Market I ended up behind two other cabs from our company. I let them check-in first for the calls we were approaching, then I realized there were no more radio calls left in this direction! Crap!

  I decided to keep going a few more blocks to Market and Castro where street hails are common. I lucked out — two guys were hailing at a motel, heading out to the Oakland airport. We had a great conversation about everything from gay marriage to the hot Texas weather. They tipped me an insane $25 on top of the $50 fare. Thanks, guys.

• On the busy Sunday after dropping in the outer Richmond I snaked back on Geary looking for Muni exiles or other street hails. Around 30th I found a guy in his late 20s emphatically hailing. I didn’t realize until a minute or so into the ride how drunk and high he was. It figured — he was heading toward the Haight Street Fair.

  My strategy for drunk folks, especially drunk AND high folks, is to maintain positivity during the entire ride. Laugh off insults or strange tangents and keep the conversation positive and upbeat. This seems to keep the passenger comfortable and minimize anger or uncomfortable feelings.

  This guy was really, really, really out of it. I’ve been there before too, so I understood that his thoughts didn’t connect very well to his speaking parts, so I accepted the odd ramblings as poor surface-level representations of his inner thoughts and feelings. This frame of reference allowed both of us to have a positive interaction.

• When I dropped him at the Haight Street Fair I knew, knew, there were numerous street hails to be had in the area. But, I still left as fast as possible. Why?

  Traffic was awful. Haight was closed between Masonic and Stanyan, including all cross streets. True there were folks somewhere in the large area between Masonic and Stanyan, Waller and Page streets that needed a cab. But, to wait through traffic would take forever. It is in my self interest to leave as fast as possible and find other areas of town to get fares — like the nearby street-hail-heavy Castro or other radio orders in the area.

  This is a problem: my incentives push me to leave an area where folks need cabs. One possible solution: enforced, clearly publicized taxi stands in traffic accessible areas. If there were publicized taxi stands at either end of Haight (at Masonic or Stanyan) potential customers and cab drivers alike could dispense with time wasting hunting and find each other more easily. This would allow cab drivers to dash-in without getting caught up in the Waller/Page stalled traffic and dash-out. Just a thought.

• I picked up three drunk Mexican guys around 6am Sunday morning. I was impressed at their ability to drink so late. Surely, I thought, they had finished their night shift as a bar back and had only been partying from 3 or 4am.

  While we stopped at a 7-11 for them to pickup more beer, one guy stayed behind. He looked pooped. He told me they had started at 5pm the day before. He was dead tired. But, his friends were still partying and he seemed to feel a strong duty to continue partying alongside. Wow.

• I picked up a radio call in the deep Marina. I picked up a nice PR-type corporate guy and took him toward his downtown office. We decided against the Broadway tunnel as traffic was usually bad around 9am and there was construction which made it even worse.

  So, the only other main road was Bay which is a high capacity 4-lane road above Russian and Telegraph Hills. As we were stuck on Bay with slow, solid traffic traveling at an average of 10mph two parts of my brain were firing:

  • One part said, wow, this is pretty awesome. It’s a beautiful day in San Francisco. There are great views of the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, the sky is blue, the wind blows with a nice cool tinge. I’m listening to NPR, driving in a world-class City. I’m paying rent, working on a website, doing what I please. It’s a beautiful day.
  • The other part was depressed: here we are, a world-class City and there is a traffic jam at 9am filled with single occupancy BMWs, Mercedes. Is this really the best transportation option the City can provide? Is this the best us humans can come up with?

    I thought back to the rail tunnel that once connected a streetcar from Jefferson at the Fisherman’s Wharf to the Marina District, heading under Fort Mason. Now it’s closed.

    Is there no modern transportation solution the City can provide that will provide >10mph average speed for its residents? Is this really a difficult situation to address? This isn’t rocket science. We can manage to put a lander on Mars to study for signs of life, send humans out to a man-made space station in Earth’s orbit, yet we can’t create reliable commute options to transport City residents the 3 miles from home to work at speeds greater than 10 mph?

    What a shame. Shame on the City, shame on the United States for its negligence to properly invest in non-personal-auto transportation options for its citizens, especially in the second most dense city in the USA. Now that oil is so expensive, our under investment in non-auto is glaringly clear.

    A solution? President Obama, you should create a next generation “New Deal” that reinvests in America’s aging transportation infrastructure. Our universities pump out amazingly skilled young people, only for them to be placed behind a desk shuffling papers. Put them to use fixing our dams, bridges, and creating real transportation options that don’t force the poorest of the poor to spend the highest percent of income on transportation. Will this cost money and increase debt? Yes! But this is a GOOD form of government spending that has positive future returns, unlike wars in foreign countries. [/rant]

• As usual, I picked up a few lawyers going to or from work. (Work seems to always be the destination or origin for lawyers in my cab.) One lawyer was late for work but needed to pick up her dry cleaning first. She hadn’t been able to pick it up in 3 weeks because of work.

  Both hadn’t yet paid their student loans. This is one of my standard lawyer questions now, “Have you paid off your loans yet?” I’m surprised at the frequency of the answer of “No.” Perhaps those that have paid off their loans no longer identify as being a lawyer?

  One had a strong desire to change from commercial law to being some sort of public defender after paying off loans. The other seemed happy where she was.

• I picked up a lady from a hospital in an outer neighborhood. She was heading back to her apartment downtown.

  After a few minutes of standard opening chat I learned she had lived in the City for many decades and lived through the 1989 earthquake. I hadn’t talked to other passengers about this yet, so I asked her what it was like. To my surprise she had quite a story.

  She had been heading back west toward the City over the Bay Bridge. She felt the quake as she was approaching Yerba Buena Island. Her car swerved and she described the feeling like her tires were melted rubber, or something to that effect. She came to a stop, as did the few other motorists around her. She wasn’t sure whether or not to continue, but figured it’d be safer to get off the bridge than wait for aftershocks to knock it down. She kept heading west and was happy to hit solid ground. She drove through the City back home, noticing the wreckage. Back home people asked her how she got through — they had seen on the news that the Bay Bridge had collapsed. She was stunned — she missed by just a minute that section of collapsed roadway to return home. She was one of the last people to successfully cross the bridge after the quake.

  I know luck is a human construct in a feeble attempt to rationalize chance, but I thought and said, “Gosh, you sure were lucky!”

• Early Monday morning, around 4:30am, I was in my standard ‘Marina early morning radio hunting mode’. Along with a sizable chunk of the rest of the cab fleet, I hunt around for fares on Polk, Union and Fillmore Streets while monitoring and checking-in for radio calls in the area.

  As I was turning from north bound Van Ness to west bound Lombard to position for some deep marina radio calls, I heard a guy yelling for a cab at the hotel on the corner. He was a white guy in his late 30s, with facial hair classifiable as ‘stubble’, wearing a giants cap.

  I could tell from the start he was an odd character, but I had a hard time then (and still do now while writing this) identifying the particulars off his oddness. First off, he was heading to the Tenderloin from his Marina hotel at 4:30am. That’s odd. Well, it’s not really odd, it just means he’s picking up drugs.

  RE: Drug policy. I don’t want to know about it, I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to hear about it. But, if someone heads somewhere to “pick something up from a friend”, I have no real qualms about the object they’re actually up-picking. As long as they don’t take too long I don’t really care what they do. Usually drug runs are good runs — we head quickly to a destination across town, they do some sort of business, then we head right back. It’s a quick $20 or even $30 depending on distance and tipping.

  When we arrived in the Tenderloin he didn’t know exactly where he was going, changing his destination once or twice. (This is always a bad sign.) Finally he found the right corner and he said he had to go pick up a ‘diskette’. Okay, whatever. He runs across the street and around a corner. I see him appear again in a minute as he runs across to the diagonal corner, gets money from an ATM, and then disappears around the corner again.

  About this time a smartly-dressed young black guy comes up to my cab, with iPhone in hand, and asked for a ride. I explained that I was waiting for my passenger to pursue a transaction and then return to his hotel. I’d be happy to take him if I wasn’t taking somebody else. This guy wouldn’t have it. He tried all sorts of persuasive verbal techniques to let me take him, “I’ll drop you $10 right now and we’ll head up. I’ll pay for this guy’s fare. Let me just share a ride with him back to the hotel and you can drop me at my place.” His insistence was impressive and we had a nice ancillary chat about the relative ‘roughness’ of the Tenderloin vs. other economically depressed cities’ ghettos. Our shared thesis: the Tenderloin is rather tame.

  But, upon arrival of the original passenger sparks flew. The passenger got in the cab and the younger guy kept asking to share the ride. I asked the original passenger and he said, “No, let’s head to the hotel.” The original passenger looked very, very uncomfortable. The young guy started insulting the passenger and vice-versa. Perhaps I should have left before that started, but at this point I said, “Goodbye, nice to meet you,” and took off.

  The passenger was irate. “How could you let that guy talk to me like that?”

  He soon calmed down and went on a different track. “Let’s get something to eat. What’s open right now?” I mentioned I’d be happy to drop him off at the 24 hour IHOP down the street from his hotel. No, this wouldn’t work. He specifically needed fast food.

  At this point my passenger’s lack of focus became clear. He wasn’t making rational decisions, especially with regard to my time. He was just spouting off random things he wanted to do. “I need some cigarettes. Can we stop by a 24-hour market?” “I’d even be happy with a Taco Bell. Is there a Taco Bell around here?”

  “How about I just drop you back at your hotel — there are a few gas stations open around there.” This satiated him enough for a few more blocks. At this point I learned another fun fact, he was leaving the country with a quarter of a million dollars in the bank to go see the world. Wow. How’s that for odd?

  Finally we arrived back at the hotel, but, of course, by then his cigarette need resurged. “No, no, let’s go to the gas station down the block. It looks open.”

  I grudgingly accepted — the station was within sight after all. I dropped him off and he wanted me to stay to take him back to his hotel. (Yes, his hotel two blocks away.) I told him I couldn’t keep running around doing errands and expect to make any money. This was a true statement — this run was taking too much time. And pursuing errands with an erratic drug addict is not my idea of a fun time. He was pissed again, “I just don’t get the cab drivers in this city! You can’t just wait a few minutes? I’ll pay you for the metered time!” He paid just the meter, no tip, around $12, and I wished him luck on his trip and offered an apology.

  Looking back on the story of this fare, I realize it’s a bit confusing. I wish I could revise it to make more sense. But, perhaps it’s a good reflection of events — he was a confusing, confusing guy. His actions and requests were individually logical, “I’m hungry, let’s get some fast food,” but collectively irrational, “Let’s head back and forth across the City as each of my needs — food, drugs, nicotine, etc — wins in priority at any given moment, without attention paid to the external world.” I’m not sure if this state was induced by a long history of drug use, drug use at that very moment, or an inherent personality trait. But, I was happy to have him out of my cab.

• As cab driver turnover rate is rather high, I see new drivers often and don’t give it much thought. One new driver, however, happened to engage me in conversation at the cashier window and we started chatting as we headed out of the garage after our shifts.

  I was glad I spoke with him. He had been a cab driver in Chicago many years back and commented that all the cost drivers — gate, gas, and the meter — seemed to have increased proportionally such that earnings are the same as before. But, considering inflation, real earnings are significantly lower. (That is, earning $150 a shift in the 70s was worth a lot more than it is today.)

  He is also a ham radio enthusiast and we spoke at length about the radio dispatch system used by the cab company. As I had guessed, there are 2 separate radio frequencies allocated to the cab company by the FCC — one for the dispatcher and one for the cab drivers checking-in across the City. He explained that they are both frequency modulated (FM) channels around the 150 MHz spectrum. (Remember, your favorite FM radio station is in the same ball park, 88.5 KQED is 88.5 MHz.)

  A neat feature of FM over AM is that the strongest broadcasting FM station will drown out other lower-power FM broadcasts on the same frequency. For some applications, like cabs checking-in for an order, this is desirable behavior. At least one cab will be heard clearly, while others are drowned out. This process is repeated until no cabs are left checking-in. During each check-in, at least one cab will be able to clearly check-in. Competing AM broadcasts bleed such that receivers hear a mix of all broadcasts. While not ideal for the application of cab dispatching, it is well suited for, say, emergency channels where you want to absolutely be able to hear any broadcaster calling for help.

  Thanks, driver, for the cool info.

• I crested Taylor Street at California looking for fares Tuesday morning. I saw empty cab after empty cab heading outbound (west) on California toward the neighborhoods where fares are likely. Had those cabs not been there, I would have headed outbound on California at this point as well. But, I crawled northward on Taylor past California and saw a potential jackpot — a guy crossing the street after leaving his Nob Hill apartment with airport-bound luggage.

  Had I just started driving a cab I would have naively left him since he wasn’t doing a traditional “hail.” But, I could tell he needed a cab: he wasn’t waiting for the 1-California on Clay to take the BART, he wasn’t waiting for another cab at his house, he was walking with a purpose toward California Street where he would surely find a cab. So I pulled next to him, made eye contact, and scored a $45 fare to SFO.

  Of course, by no means does this learned skill make cab driving a lucrative profession. But, it sure does help on a slow Tuesday morning.

• I picked up a van call at a Fisherman’s Wharf hotel. A Filipino family was waiting for me as I pulled up. They were heading to Mill Valley in the North Bay.

  This was a great trip. I love out of town trips. Not only do they pay well, but it’s a pleasure to see other parts of the Bay Area, especially beautiful drives like the SF to Mill Valley drive.

  I learned the family was emigrating from the Philippines to Canada. They were very excited at the move except for the cold Canadian weather. They tipped me well and I had a beautiful drive on a beautiful day. Thanks, family.

• I picked up a group of reporters at a low cost hotel in ‘TenderSOMA’ where the Tenderloin’s trademark seedy feel extends below Market Street, especially west of 5th Street. I took them to the BAVC where they were meeting with other documentary filmmakers and reporters.

  One of the guys in the front worked for Frontline World which sparked an interesting discussion. I had met another Frontline World employee at a journalism meetup I attended to promote a website I’m developing. This led to a long discussion about the website I’m making and my motivations for making it: namely, the failure of local media to evolve with media consumption habits of persons under the age of 30.

  At a certain point we realized we were having an excessively cliche “San Francisco” moment: a part-time cab driver and ‘startup’ wannabe having a chat with visiting reporters about the failure of local media to evolve at the same pace as technology. And, to pour salt in the wounds, we both mentioned we’ll blog about it afterward. Ouch. It’s like something out of an Onion headline: “Blogging cab driver blogs about blogging passengers.”

• A few staff members at the cab company mentioned they heard about my blog. Hi, fellow cab company staff members and/or drivers.

My earnings floor — the lowest take-home pay I can expect — is increasing from the record lows of the winter. In other words, it’s rare this time of year to see a shift that doesn’t net me at least $100. In the winter I had sub $100 shifts much more often.

The ceiling seems to hover around $250, with occasional exceptions like Bay to Breakers Sunday — the most recent high outlier on the chart.

Unfortunately, earnings don’t ‘feel’ as high as they did last summer. Indeed, recent earnings seem clustered around $150, compared to a large cluster around $200 last summer. Two obvious reasons: gate fee increase and fuel cost increases, both costs are borne directly by cab drivers. Other potential reasons: tourist activity has yet to reach peak, major SF events and street fairs happen later in summer, I work less lucrative shifts than last summer.

For fun, here is a chart of gas prices over the past year. The red line is San Francisco, the blue is USA average.

My take-home shift average still hovers around $170.10* since I started driving July 2007. My median take-home pay (the middle amount of all shifts worked) is $176.

When I started last summer it was at the peak of the high earnings season. Plus, I worked the rather lucrative Saturday and Sunday day shifts (when compared to lower earning Monday and Tuesday shifts I added). I thought these seasonal and day of the week changes would give an artificially inflated view of my earnings, so I also computed take-home average for 2008 only, which starts at the low-point of the season and includes the lower earning Monday and Tuesdays.

I guessed the 2008 year-to-date (YTD) average and median take-home would be significantly less, but I was surprised at the outcome. 2008 YTD average is $168.54 and 2008 YTD median is $170. Both figures are surprisingly close to my all-time average.

*I do not subtract money spent on food during my shifts. This is important so that my variable food spending (which can range from $0 to $20 during a shift) doesn’t affect the outcome and so that I don’t have an odd monetary incentive to not eat (in order to inflate my take-home pay statistics). But, the reality for most drivers is that ‘food costs’ are a real expense, subtracted from take-home cash pay. So, any other cab drivers reading this, be sure to add back in your food costs to compare your earnings to mine.

A friend sent me a tip that there was a big after party around 6th and Folsom. This, along with many other SOMA hotspots, was a major source for fares.

• I picked up 3 gay guys from the exodus of an underground party closing near 1st and Howard. They were heading back to one of the guy’s place to have sex and were very open about it. They seemed very excited and discussed some various related logistics such as bed size, supplies of prophylactics, and privacy from roommates.
• I picked up a group of young Asian partiers from one of these parties. They weren’t so drunk, they were more high and out of it. They talked about the effects of their respective pills. They said the party was really boring until they took the pills.
• I picked up a gay male couple who were super-hungry after dancing all night. They wanted to know where was closest to eat near Union Square, we headed for Denny’s on Mission just a few blocks away. I wanted some Denny’s too.
• Memorial day morning became considerably quiet after 6am. Not many people were in the City, and those that were didn’t seem to leave their apartments.
• Tuesday was busy, nearer to a Monday’s level of activity instead of a normally slow Tuesday.
• Early Tuesday morning I did a few runs in the Mission before heading up to Pac/Marina/Nob/Russian Hills-land. Usually the Mission isn’t too bad, but I did 2 prostitute runs in a row which was a bit unusual:
  • I picked up two middle aged Mexican guys and an older black lady around 24th and Mission. I took them to a seedy hotel in the far outer Excelsior.
  • I picked up a younger Mexican guy and a younger black lady also around 24th and Mission and took them back to the guy’s place in the Excelsior. The lady was talking the entire time on her cell phone to her boyfriend or a close male friend.
  • You may ask me, “How did you know these were prostitute runs?” I don’t know for sure, but context clues pointed strongly in this direction.

    I felt a little dirty about it, but also felt that if I didn’t take them, someone else would take them, what would me not taking them change about their transaction? Nothing. I would just miss out on a few fares during the quietest time of night.

• I picked up an older i-banker sort of guy from the Marina and took him to the Financial district. After he jumped in, I accelerated hard up Gough and he asked, “Are you rushin’?”

  “Yeah,” I answered back, “But, I rush pretty much most of the day. It’s just a habit.”

  “No,” he said, “Are you Russian?”

  I laughed, “Well, actually, yeah my Mom’s side is Russian.”

  His question is one of many variants of the core question, which is, more directly, “What is your background such that a young caucasian driver is driving this taxi?”

  Other forms of the question include but are not limited to, “Are you in school?” “You don’t drive full time, do you?” “What are you doing besides driving a cab?” “How long [have you been]/[will you be] driving a cab?” “What made you want to drive a cab?”

• Another Tuesday passenger asked me if I was Jewish. I said, “My mom was raised Jewish, so I guess that means yes.”
• I picked up a lady I had driven before (first story of this post). She was just as chatty as I had remembered and we had a great time again.

  She was heading back from a doctor appointment to get her teeth at her apartment, then heading to the bank. I asked her where she was heading, she opened her mouth and said, “To get my teeth!” keeping her mouth open after she said this. I laughed and she cackled a hilarious laugh which said, “I’m doing my best to freak you out, but you’re a good sport.”

  She had a lot of spunk. She tipped well and we shared stories of family. I told her about my recent visit back home to Indiana to visit my family. I’m looking forward to picking her up again soon.

• I picked up two girls from Cal Train and took them to a City bus tour departing from the Fish Wharf. They were very quiet, but I got out of them that they hadn’t ever visited the City. So, I took it upon myself as my Civic Duty to tell them a bit about our path as we wound through the Financial district, by Chinatown, through North Beach to the Wharf. I thought they might have been annoyed, but they gave me a big tip ($15 on a $9 fare) in the end.

  It seems that erring toward speaking too much trumps speaking too little in the effort to maximize tips.

B2B cuts through many varied City neighborhoods, starting with SOMA, briefly touching the edge of the Tenderloin on the way through Hayes Valley, Western Addition, straddling the panhandle around NOPA/Upper Haight and concluding through Golden Gate Park which separates the westernmost Richmond and Sunset districts.

Here’s a map:

B2B is more than a run. It attracts a large party crowd drawn primarily from the City’s ample yuppie supply. Party goers slowly trail the legit runners dressed in costumes and fueled solely by alcohol despite the race’s early start time.

Last year I ran the race (unofficially) to see what all the hoopla was about. It was a blast. I woke up late but caught the race halfway through the City around Hayes Valley. I continued to run westward past and through the crowds of partiers. I was amazed at two things: a) the size of the crowd, and b) the important streets which the City closed completely during this event. Returning this year as a cab driver on the race day, I was hit hard by the impact of point b.

Between 8 and 10am the north and south ends of the City were completely severed save for Park Presidio on the far west side of the City and (eventually) the Embarcadero on the far east side of the City. This caused a great deal of frustration for non-race goers attempting to go about their normal Sunday business.

• Having worked a number of City event days in the past, I knew a van would be a big asset. I was lucky to get a van as I requested from the cashier.
• Before the race began, therefore before street closures, my passengers were a mix of hung-over partiers returning to their places after spending a night with a ‘special friend’ and folks going to work annoyed at the lack of Muni service on some key lines. (A normal Sunday crowd.)

  Soon after 6am I started taking a number of people from their homes to other homes for ‘pre-partying’ and soon after I took many more groups to the start of the race course. Between 6 and 7am the City’s aggregate demand for cabs exceeded available supply. Demand did not return below supply at any point during my shift — an exceedingly rare event for a Sunday day shift.

• After the race began, I was ‘stuck’ on the north side of the City. Given the extremely high demand for cabs, either side would be an okay side to be ‘stuck’ on. But, the north side of the City holds the majority of housing for the yuppie contingency, so this was a good place to be.
• While stuck on the north side of the City, I picked up an older lady with very limited English from the St. Francis Hospital. She asked me to go south of Market a few blocks further south than would be possible given the race street closings.

  I did my best to clearly explain to her that this would simply not be possible. I even used a nice visual aid provided by the cab company — a map of the race route like above. This didn’t phase her. Oh well, I thought, as soon as we get closer she’ll get the picture.

  We crossed Market on 5th and approached Mission at which point the crowds and street closure at Howard was plainly visible, if for no other reason than the haze of red brake lights blocking our path.

  I stated the obvious, “This is as far as we can go. I’ll have to let you out here.”

  She was not happy. “I need to go to Folsom!” I first tried polite reasoning which soon escalated into more blunt statements. “Look, lady, it’s not going to happen. You have to get out here and walk the rest of the way.” (It was just 2 blocks south.) I figured her sole human form would have a significantly higher chance of crossing the path of running humans than a blue hulk of taxi metal crashing through police barriers.

  She protested for about a minute. I’ll let you know that a minute is a very long time in a City where there were hundreds of street hails calling out to me at this very second. (Like Superman’s super-ability to hear dames in distress, I could hear calls of ‘Taxi’ crying out in pain across the City.) She finally accepted her fate and I moved on.

• I found my next street hail in less than 10 seconds. A nun urgently needed to get from 5th and Mission to 30th and Mission, far south of our present location, to be the church representative for some sort of concrete pouring on a construction project.

  Despite her niceness and her lifelong dedication to God, her reasoning skills were questionable which became more and more evident as we attempted to get around the race. “You want me to drive the entire length of the race course until we find an opening?” I said. I thought, this may not be a good idea.

  “I think the only opening right now is Park Presidio on the far, far west side of the City.” I thought, do you have an understanding of the cost of this circuitous cab ride? About 3 minutes into the ride she revealed she only had $10 to pay me. By this time we were at Van Ness.

  What was she thinking? In retrospect I don’t think she was thinking very clearly at all. I had to call this off. We stopped near the race path at Hayes. I suggested she attempt to walk across the race path and hail a cab or find a continuing Muni line at that point.

  She thanked me and paid me for the fare. I was on autopilot — the meter read a fare and I accepted payment for that fare. In retrospect I feel quite shameful that I took her money. Obviously, the best thing for her to do would have been to take BART. Why didn’t I think of that before? She seemed very clear in her intent to have me find a magical break in the race that was obviously not there.

  I should have been more forceful in my initial questioning of her questionable plan. I should not have accepted her payment. She should not have asked to go on a cab ride significantly above her ability to pay. We’ll do it better next time.

• Continued on the next post…

• I notice that fares run together in my memory more than before. I’m not sure of the cause. Do I pay less attention to customers? Am I becoming the cab driver that can chat up any customer without really listening to what they’re saying? (No, I don’t think so, but I still worry about it.)

  Maybe I start to see the same patterns of people over and over. What sets one business commuter apart from the other?

  Or, maybe I’m now waiting too long after my shifts to write these posts. (It’s probably that.)

• Late mornings and early afternoons the Kaiser calls are off the hook — 2, 3 or 4 orders waiting for cabs, most of them armed with City paratransit scrips, ready to spend a nice clip going across town. I like Kaiser calls.

  The dispatchers call those orders as “Geary and Divis.” Or, when there are too many, they simply say “2 [3, 4] times for the Kaiser” or “Kaiser calling back.” Good times to be a cab driver in the City.

  I picked up a guy Monday from the Kaiser. He was older, extremely tall and moved slowly but precisely. When he walked it looked like a slow motion film. A 30 frames per second video played back at 20 fps.

  He was black but with rather light skin and noticeable freckles. But, his defining feature was his glasses. They were perfectly round, thick plastic frames. He wore classy khaki pants, a sports jersey and a dress shirt. He had great style.

  When he sat down in the cab he handed me a twenty. “That’s your tip.” Making the assumption that is best to be made in such situations, I assumed he meant, “That will cover the fare plus your tip.” People do that sometimes.

  He gave his destination neither as a request nor as a command. Just a statement of truth. A fact. Our destiny, as sure as the sun would set tonight and rise tomorrow. “We’re going to make a stop at the Cala [Grocery store at California and Hyde] and then back to my apartment at [address].”

  As I’ve said many times before, I don’t normally enjoy waiting. I have a well-founded propensity toward constant motion as I usually earn more while in motion than waiting, even if the meter ticks up for time at $0.45/minute. But, I didn’t argue. He seemed set in our path.

  We pull into the Cala and he gets out. I try to relax. I’m getting better at it, even in these situations where math constantly ticks through my head calculating how much money I’m losing while waiting for this guy to scan through the frozen food aisles.

  What I perceive to be minutes later (but is probably just a minute later) I turn around and look in the store. Maybe I’ll see him grabbing something from the impulse aisle so we can keep going. He’s still outside. Searching for a cart. He hasn’t even entered Cala. I try to relax again. Of course, the meter is still running.

  I listen to some NPR. I flip around from one NPR station to the other. Ralph Nader’s on KALW. Interesting enough.

  15 minutes later I blow my top. This is insane. The meter’s up to $15. I grab a cab receipt and write down my phone number, grab his medicine from the back seat and $5 change for his $20.

  I find him in the Cala in the frozen food section. But, I couldn’t maintain my anger at him. Restated, I couldn’t direct my anger toward him. It just wouldn’t go. I just wanted to laugh. Actually, I wanted to help him shop. Maybe things would go faster. And, he shared my taste in food. Frozen popcorn shrimp, nice! “There are things at this Cala I just can’t get anywhere else in the City.” Tell me about it.

  I said, “Look sir, you’re really nice and all but I really can’t wait this long. I need to find other fares. Here’s your change from the meter, your medicine, and a card with my number. Call me when you’re done and I’ll pick you up.”

  “Oh no, don’t give me any change, that’s your tip. I’ll pay you whatever’s on the meter. I’ll just be another few minutes.” Oh, really? Now the numbers tip in his favor. And, to his credit, his Cala cart was approaching capacity. “Okay, I can wait a few more minutes.”

  A few Nader tirades later and he finally emerges from Cala. “Thanks for waiting,” he said, “It’s hard to get cab drivers to wait for me to do my shopping. That’s the last thing on my list for the week. Now I can relax the rest of the week.”

  I took him a few more long blocks up to his Nob Hill apartment. He paid me another $30. “Woah, sir, you’ve paid me 50 bucks. This is a lot. Are you sure you’re okay with that? I have no problem giving you some change.”

  “No, no, take it, you were very helpful. I’ve done everything on my list.”

  I thanked him profusely and finally said what was on my mind, “You have some awesome glasses.”

• I picked up an Indian guy and his girlfriend from the CalTrain station on Tuesday. I don’t think they take cabs often.

  He asked, “We are going downtown, are you going that way?”

  I wasn’t trying to be smart, but this just popped out of my mouth, “That’s not really how it works. I’m a cab driver, I’ll go wherever you tell me.” They told me to go downtown.

• I scored an Oakland Airport fare off the street from 555 Market, the site of my former office job. Karma?
• I dropped a guy and his elderly mom off at her retirement home from one of the hospitals. She was a bit out of it, so he was handling her paratransit scrips. He wasn’t sure where to sign and I pointed to the line and said, “Just fill in this field here. Did I just say field? I’m not even sure what the proper word is.” You see, I’ve been working a website quite a bit in my spare time.
• I picked up a bouncer from a downtown club Tuesday morning. He had finished his graveyard shift and was heading home to his NoPa apartment. He talked about work. He worked a lot. 7 days a week. He made a lot of money. He spends it all.

  I felt like asking him, does that really make you happy? Do you like working 7 days a week? Why not just spend less and work 4 days a week? Or 3?

  I’m proud to share that I’m living below my means, (finally) paying off my credit card, and working only 3 days per week. I earn about $25k per year and live in one of the most expensive cities in North America. My secret? I don’t buy things. (Nor do I have kids.)

  I didn’t feel it appropriate to lecture him though. I think it’s a lesson people have to learn for themselves. Of course, I have no problem lecturing you on this blog.

• I picked up a guy from a nice SOMA apartment building heading to SFO. We had a fun chat about politics, Obama and the state of the Union. As I dropped him at the terminal he said, “I’m glad I had you as a driver. I always like your cab company, you have good drivers.” Thanks.