Indiana University students like Obama.

Posted on April 29, 2008 by kfarr

I try to keep up with news back home in Indiana but have done so especially of late as Hillary and Obama duke it out in the Hoosier State. I was happy to come across the below clips produced by the student TV station I founded when I was a student at Indiana University.

Of course, these clips can’t claim to offer a representative sample of Hoosiers. Instead, these clips offer some of the most unfiltered and straightforward reporting I’ve seen in a long time: simple footage and voice over summary of an event with reactions from the crowd. With no spin and no overarching political horse-race poll update, viewers are left to connect their own dots. I find that refreshing.

There’s a raw emotion here that seems pretty magical to me. The students react as if there’s a rock star visiting campus. When’s the last time a presidential candidate spurred that sort of reaction from our youth?

Obama visits IU during Little 500:


Students react to Obama visit:

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An addendum to driving this past weekend

Posted on April 25, 2008 by kfarr

Taking a much needed break from work, I attempt to finish the earlier post.

  • Now that tourists are back in town, I have a ‘last hope’ of finding a fare if the City is empty everywhere else: Fisherman’s Wharf, affectionately referred to simply as ‘the Wharf’ or the ‘Fish Wharf’ by fast-talking radio dispatchers.

    As this past weekend’s shifts were slower than usual, I fished for fares (sorry) around the Wharf more often than usual. On one such attempt I got lucky. A German father and daughter pair were heading back to their hotel in the deep Marina along Lombard and then wished to head toward the airport.

    I enjoyed their company as did they mine. The daughter was in her late teens and was on break from an American high school exchange program in the “middle of nowhere” Colorado. Her father came to visit and they decided to tour the west coast. At my high school in Indiana we encountered a surprisingly large number of German exchange students, so I was familiar with the generalities of her program and her general state of small-American-town-German-exchange-program-post-culture-shock-acceptance-stage. She had just a few months to go before returning home so she was increasingly embracing the positives of her experience inversely proportional to the remaining days of her stay.

    When I dropped them at the airport the fare was around $45. The father handed me what we both presumed was three $20 bills, at which point I customarily jumped out of the driver’s seat to fetch their luggage. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize until I came to the rear hatch that he had only given me two twenties. I let him know, realizing, as did he, that it would have been better for me to confirm his payment at the point he placed it in my hand. I felt a tinge of guilt at not having confirmed his payment beforehand, which painted an air of odd feelings as we parted. Regardless, the experience was good overall.

    I’ll be sure to immediately check payments in the future, no matter how much I trust the customer.

  • Tuesdays are usually slow, but this past Tuesday was unusually slow.

    After 9am my blue taxi shark circled around Nob and Russian Hills looking for fares, keeping an ear out for radio calls in the area. Competition was fierce. I would hear a call for just a few blocks away which, during most times, I could easily snag. Not so on Tuesday.

    But, the craziest example of the fierce competition was a call for St. Francis Memorial Hospital at Pine and Hyde. I was approaching Hyde on Pine when I heard the call and immediately called “Bingo” on the radio. As often happens, my call was drowned out as many other drivers checked in.

    I pulled to the side of the intersection, not wanting to grab the hospital fare until being 100% sure that it was the hospital being called and not another residence in the surrounding block. And, I like adhering to the rules of the game and enjoy hearing a full confirmation from the dispatcher that the order is indeed assigned to my cab.

    As my foolishly process-abiding taxicab and its driver idled at the corner, another cab from my company swung around the block. The driver glanced at me in confusion, thinking, “Why the hell was this weirdo stopped right before the order?” His confusion quickly passed and did not prevent him from pulling into the hospital and effectively taking my order.

  • As I was climbing up and down Nob and Russian Hills early Monday morning searching for street hails or radio fares I received a phone call on my cell phone from a strange 415 (San Francisco area code) number.

    It turned out to be the husband of an elderly woman to whom I had once given out my number.

    Let’s pause for some context: I rarely give out my number as it symbolizes a long-term commitment to the career of driving a taxi. (I avoid long-term commitments.) Further, I become stressed driving all the way across the City for a pre-arranged direct-to-my-phone fare since there is a chance, albeit small, that the person in question won’t be there and I would have missed out on between $0 and $20 in earnings had I been open to street or radio hails.

    So it was with surprise that I answered my phone and heard a gentleman on the other end of the line saying he wanted to go to the airport in 10-15 minutes. (Yes, I was surprised both that I answered my phone AND that the man on the other end wanted to go to the airport.) He was a bit confused at first as to whom he had called. I was quick to explain I was a driver, not the dispatch line, but I also promptly assured him I could be there in 10 minutes. I was there in 7.

    I travelled swiftly to the airport with he and his wife in tow, speaking quickly but congenially to each other in an Asian language. It was a quick $40.

    Gosh, I thought then and think now, maybe I should give my number out more often.

  • While not a story from driving, this is on topic.

    A few afternoons ago, I walked through the Tenderloin on the way to a meeting and happened upon a fellow alumnus of the July 2007 class of the Flag-a-Cab Taxi School, Ahmed. (That’s not his real name as I didn’t ask nor did he give me permission to write his story. Google told me Ahmed was another common Moroccan name.)

    As you just correctly inferred, Ahmed is from Morocco. He used to work at a liquor store in the Tenderloin 7 days per week making about $10 per hour. Some friends told him about driving a cab and he looked into it, finally taking the plunge to take the taxi class.

    Now Ahmed works 7 days a week as a cab driver. He said he felt fortunate to have found an arrangement with a sublease driver such that he works 12 hour shifts each day. He brings the car to the other driver’s house and vice versa, making switch-off quick and easy. Thanks to the long shifts, I guessed he is able to make upwards of $180-200 per shift on average. He confirmed that range.

    Ahmed’s yearly income has nearly doubled driving a cab compared to the liquor store income. He now earns between $60,000 and $70,000 per year. Granted, nobody would enjoy working 7 days per week ad infinitum. He sends the majority of the money home to his immediate and extended family.

    Thoughts

    • Wow, Ahmed works a lot of hours a week. He has quite a work ethic.
    • Ahmed’s income doubled by driving a taxi. DOUBLED. That’s amazing. Cab driving is a unique profession. It requires no formal education, no consistently applied standard for minimum English proficiency (although in practice a base level is necessary to pass the taxi and police department tests). The only requirement is having held a valid CA license with no major accidents in the past few years.
    • I wonder if Ahmed pays taxes on his cab earnings. If so, on what percent? Surely not 100%.
    • How long will Ahmed do this? Surely no-one wants to work every waking hour for the rest of one’s life. Will he drive for the next year or two and then move back to live with his family? Is he helping his family through school? Contributing to day-to-day living expenses?
  • Often other cab drivers will discuss their days while waiting to pay the cashier after their shifts. I’ll engage in this discussion from time to time, but it rarely offers anything of value for either party.

    The script is usually this:
    “How was your day?”
    “[Good, I had x airports! | Bad. | Average.]”
    “[Glad to hear! | Sorry to hear. | Oh.] My day was [good, I had x airports! | bad. | average.]”
    “[Glad to hear! | Sorry to hear. | Oh.]”
    “Good luck next time.”

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Cab earnings update: seasonal rise in demand for taxis offsets increased fuel and gate costs.

Posted on April 24, 2008 by kfarr

Cab earnings with trendline as of 4/24/08

San Francisco cab drivers face two recent cost pressures: a recent gate fee increase combined with the recent climb in gas prices.

Fortunately, these cost pressures come at a time when aggregate demand for taxis in the City is increasing. More tourists, outdoor City festivals, and frequent conventions bring in more and more cab passengers as the summer approaches.

However, I paint a bleak picture for this winter. As seasonal demand for taxis wanes in November, this winter could be the toughest yet for City cab drivers and companies. Qualified, skilled cab drivers will seek new income opportunities as average take-home pay dips to new lows this winter. Cab companies will likely have a more difficult time than ever filling shifts, putting pressure on hiring managers to accept drivers with less stringent requirements for clean driving records, English proficiency or general City knowledge.

Given this bleak outlook, I think my cab driving may come to an end (or break) at the end of October.

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Driving a slow weekend in the City

Posted on April 24, 2008 by kfarr

It was another slow weekend in San Francisco. During my shifts

  • I witnessed a non-trivial collision. A Toyota pickup truck was traveling behind me south on South Van Ness. As we approached the 16th Street intersection he passed me on the left and returned to my lane immediately before entering the intersection. The light had just turned green for our southbound traffic. Meanwhile, a Ford SUV crept west into the intersection on 16th Street, presumably not having seen the red traffic signal or slowing after realizing he was running a red light.

    The Ford SUV clipped the rear of the Toyota pickup truck. The Toyota’s tires lost all traction as it launched into an out of control 360 spin, coming to rest against a parked car across the intersection on South Van Ness.

    While my traffic signal intuition knew that the signal was about to turn, or had already turned, green, I couldn’t trust that intuition as a witness. But, the instant the vehicles came into contact I looked up and confirmed we had a green light. That is what I told the Toyota driver’s insurance company, and, later this week, his lawyer.

    After the accident I questioned myself, “Should I wait around and be a witness?” I hadn’t made very much money that day and needed to keep going on the road to earn a reasonable take-home pay for the day. The Toyota driver was smart. He knew a cab driver would be a reliable witness should a conflict arise regarding fault. He ran up to my cab and got my phone number. I said, “I’ll be happy to recount what happened, but I really can’t wait around here. I have to keep moving.” I kept moving.

    Random thoughts:

    • If the Toyota hadn’t passed me, I could have been the first vehicle in the intersection.
    • What if the Ford SUV had been a tenth of a second earlier and hit the driver door instead of the rear of the truck?
    • If I didn’t volunteer to be a witness, it would have been easy to find me again since my vehicle has a phone number in large white letters painted all over AND a unique taxi ID number.
    • If the same thing happened to me, I would depend on witnesses to prove I wasn’t primarily at fault.
    • Driving slowly prevented me from being a participant in this accident.
  • When a passenger mentions San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom it’s usually not in a positive light. I think a great deal of this negativity derives simply because he is the personification of a stressed municipal entity that has an extremely wide range of duties, arguably insufficient funding, and arguably no ability to make itself more efficient due to the inherent structure of local government.

    So, it was with surprise that passengers in my cab spoke at such length and voracity about the positives of a Newsom program to offer basic housing, health care, mental health care, life guidance, career counseling and general support to homeless residents of San Francisco.

    These passengers had called DeSoto to request a van cab. I answered the call after returning from an airport run. They were moving from a weekly hotel in the Mission to a weekly hotel on Nob Hill, a few blocks from my apartment.

    Upon my arrival, they cheered in joy that a van cab showed up so quickly. As I’ve mentioned a few times before on the blog, it’s tough to get vans to take moving orders because the loading/unloading time is labor intensive and often not metered. A lot of time and effort output for perhaps not enough return. Perversely, or wisely, I enjoy the short burst of labor motivated by a need to maximize speed on van moving calls. It makes the blood flow faster than it otherwise would while I stagnate in the driver’s seat.

    We loaded up their stuff which mostly consisted of clothing in black plastic trash bags but also included some classic American necessities like an old wood paneled CRT TV.

    The most direct route dictated Franklin, a 3-lane timed signal boulevard which normally flows very well after the morning rush. Unfortunately, that day it didn’t flow so well so we had quite a bit of time to chat in the coagulated traffic.

    The passengers appeared to be a couple, but of course you never know for sure. The lady was black, in her 30s or 40s, sported an oversized t-shirt and wore a bluetooth telephone headset in one ear. The guy looked a bit older, perhaps in his 40s or 50s. He looked at ease with the world.

    They both had travelled a great deal, especially around the American south where they were both born. The lady’s favorite American city was Seattle, the guy preferred Atlanta.

    Not long ago they were both homeless on the streets of San Francisco. They spoke at great length about the City program they were working with. They have 3 months of subsidized rent while they get back on their feet. The City pays for many other needs — they even pay for their taxi fare via City issued taxi scrips! They have mandatory counseling appointments with City social workers. They have mandatory mental health sessions. They have mandatory career counseling. After 3 months the subsidies begin to decrease.

    I was surprised at their positive reaction to the mandatory nature of the meetings and counseling sessions. Many of their peers complained that there were too many hoops to jump through to qualify for the free rent aid. But, my passengers were adamant that showing up on time for a career counseling session is a simple thing to do and is a necessary step to practice personal responsibility.

    A choice paraphrased quote from the lady, “I’m past the age of 30. To not have a place of my own is embarrassing. I’m glad to have this chance to get back on my feet.”

    I was impressed by their extremely positive reaction to the program. I was impressed by the program. I hope it helps them on their way.

    Mayor Newsom and the City, good job.

  • I picked up a few Academy of Art students from their Nob Hill apartment answering a van call. They had a great deal of video equipment from lights and camera equipment to tripods and sandbags.

    They were undergraduates in the Academy’s film production program. They were unanimously disappointed with the program. They felt the classes were stretched out. They felt the cost of the degree was not commensurate with the gained knowledge. But, they all agreed that the Academy would give them a significant advantage finding a job. Arguably, like many MBA programs, perhaps the greatest return from an Academy degree is the built-in connections to recruiters. Those connections are very valuable.

    But, do you need to waste 4 years on a degree to get those connections? What if you could just pay the same amount of money and get those connections immediately? I guess the recruiters need to buy into the illusion that the school teaches something magical such that there is a reason to recruit directly from the school instead of pulling from the general public.

  • Sunday the cashier/driver operations manager gave me a nice car — a late model Dodge Durango. It was a guilty pleasure to drive. It had amazing acceleration, its brakes were surprisingly responsive given the mass of the vehicle, the interior was luxurious without being ostentatious, and the sound system was above average. Driving any vehicle model painted with taxi coloring always gives the driver automatic priority, but this vehicle commanded additional priority. It was easy to push my way into lanes.

    The visibility was a bit disappointing. Compared to the Dodge Caravan taxis, the Durango felt like a tank. I rode higher but the windows were shorter and felt like small slits compared to the tall front glass of the Caravan.

    The cargo space was adequate but appeared a bit smaller than the Caravan. It could seat 7 passengers in addition to the driver, but the the nice midwestern family test-case was undeniably smushed as I took them from their downtown hotel to the Fish Wharf.

    The worst attribute was gas mileage. I spent $56 on gas, a new record during a shift. Dodge Intrepid sedans fuel up between $30 and $40 followed by the Caravans at $40 to $50. $56 is ridiculous, especially considering I drove lightly on the accelerator with a highly conscious aim to conserve gasoline. If I had driven like a ‘normal’ acceleration-heavy cab driver I would have paid between $60 and $70.

    This is an excellent example of a non-aligned incentive between cab companies and drivers. As cab companies do not pay the cost of gas, there is no motivation to purchase fuel efficient vehicles. What’s more, our company has a close relationship testing vehicles for Chrysler, so it gets these odd gas-guzzlers at a cheap, cheap rate. Unfortunately, it is the cab drivers that bear the downside of these ‘deals’ the cab company gets on rolling stock.

  • I am losing my inhibition to try out my extremely limited Spanish on Mexican passengers. I know basic useful terms, like ‘right’, ‘left’, and ‘at the corner?’ in addition to numbers up to 20 which helps out when confirming numbered streets.

    Despite the ‘laughable’ nature of my attempt to speak basic Spanish with these customers, it seems to accomplish two positives:

    • I can now absolutely confirm a destination and route in a language other than English. Many Spanish speaking passengers will incorrectly interchange the English words for right and left, or make the surprisingly common error between, for example, 7th and 17th Streets.
    • This shows a respect and openness to other cultures on my part that is always very pleasantly received.

    I’ll keep stumbling along.

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Radiolab: another great radio show

Posted on April 24, 2008 by kfarr

Radio Lab Logo

I recently stumbled upon another great radio show: Radiolab.

Radiolab tries to explain things. Big things. Philosophy and science things.

Radiolab features a simple theme for each episode such as Love, Pop Music, or Deception. My initial frustration while listening was that they didn’t always get to the bottom of the theme. Why do we fall in love? How has pop music evolved? You won’t get an absolute answer. (Will we ever?)

But, that’s okay. Let go of the need for a perfect, direct explanation of the theme and embrace the unique experience of Radiolab and you’ll enjoy it just fine. Each episode features at least one nugget of unique radio that keeps me coming back for more.

And, the host’s name is Jad. How cool is that?

Links

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Online ad networks: Good, bad, in-between?

Posted on April 18, 2008 by kfarr

PaidContent.org has a great rundown of differing views regarding online advertising networks.

Any analysis I could make is already well reflected in the collected views, so without further ado here it is:
Link

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Driving highlights

Posted on April 18, 2008 by kfarr

A bit delayed, but here it is. Driving highlights during my shifts this past week.

  • Right after I left the garage early Monday morning (late Sunday night to my passengers) I picked up 4 Mexican guys in the heart of the Mission at 26th.

    I try not to stereotype negative traits, but I enjoy generalizing positive ones. So here goes.

    Consistently, I have a great time driving drunk Mexican guys. At worst, they keep to themselves but are still lighthearted, polite and tip well. At best, which is most of the time, they interact with me, involve me in their conversation and share their spirit of the moment.

    The guys I picked up on Monday fit that generalization. They were pumped from a night of partying. They were heading to someone’s apartment in the Tenderloin after a night of fun in the Mission. We stopped on the way to pick up some beer. Being a quiet night, I had no problem with this. They were respectful with my time and returned immediately from the liquor store. They tipped me very well.

  • Later that morning (night) around 3 am I picked up a hipster and his girlfriend from the Haight. They were pretty smashed but still held somewhat cogent conversation with each other as we headed toward the Mission.

    A few minutes in, the hipster guy said, “Gosh this music is crap. Can you change it to [107.7 FM] the Bone?” I was listening to a Daft Punk CD which, I realize, is a bit obscure and isn’t universally adored. Still, hipster dude, don’t insult other people’s music like that. 107.7 FM The Bone is no better, just more mainstream.

    He annoyed me.

    It was at that point when I thought to myself, I will try to never again disparage other person’s choice in music, no matter how much I don’t like the music. Does it have any meaning to say that it’s stupid that your favorite color is red? That statement just serves as an insult.

  • I showed up for a radio call at Chestnut and Larkin, a very expensive area of Russian Hill with apartments that overlook the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.

    I went inside and the doorwoman called up to the apartment. The lady answered and said she didn’t expect me to come so quickly, but she’d be down in a few minutes.

    Okay, a few minutes, no problem. It turned out to be 15 minutes.

    When she showed up, I was polite, welcoming and made pleasant conversation about the history of the City with special interest in Russian Hill and Lombard Street before it became a pop culture icon. But, inside I was quite frustrated that she knowingly used 15 minutes of my time with little more than a quick, “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long!”

    When we arrived at her destination (only 12 blocks away — a 2 minute ride and a $5 fare) she gave me a $1.00 tip and then fished in her wallet for a quarter. A QUARTER! She placed the quarter in my hand as though it were a £2 coin.

    I had a few thoughts run through my head after that interaction.

    1. It appears difficult for humans, especially as they reach older ages, to fully grasp the effect of inflation on their currency. I have no doubt that in her mind she had full confidence that adding 25¢ to my pay that day had significant meaning.

    2. I ‘lost’ money on that transaction. It was a busy day in the City. There were plenty of other radio calls on Russian and Nob Hills. Most any other fare would have surely paid more and would have been completed before she even popped out of the apartment.

    3. She did not value my time properly. In fact, for those 15 minutes she valued my time at the least zero, at the most $1.25 — the value of the tip. My average hourly revenue ranges from $20 to $40, so 15 minutes is between $5-10. Ignoring the valuation of my time while driving a cab, she didn’t seem to value my time as a human, and that is the most frustrating part of this whole escapade.

  • This got me thinking. What is the difference that makes the fares with drunk Mexican guys consistently positive? Why was this experience with the older Russian Hill lady so negative?

    Here’s the best answer I can muster: the Mexican guys expressed that they valued me as a fellow human much more so than did the old lady.

    The Mexican guys often work jobs where people frequently dehumanize them. When I ask what sorts of jobs they do it ranges from cook, to busser, bar-back, painter, plumber, carpenter, construction worker, and so on.

    Like with these ‘silent’ background jobs, in my experience as a driver I notice that some people recognize my existence as a human, while others see me as a robot.

    My gut says these Mexican guys are very aware of this dynamic and make a conscious effort to recognize me as a human. Whether it’s just a direct statement hello or a few simple questions like, “How are you, how is your night,” or if it’s a deeper sharing of a conversation with the entire group, the effort is genuine and present at all levels, from respecting my time to tipping well.

    When the Russian Hill lady got in the cab and saw that I was American and spoke native English she opened up and we chatted about (her and) the history of the City. Before that moment, she didn’t view my time or me as something worth valuing.

    Sorry to harp on that. Don’t take it too seriously, I just have too much time to ruminate while driving an 11 hour shift.

  • Last year at this time I was an advertising executive. Well, not an executive. I was an advertising minion.

    I performed tasks related to online advertising campaign planning and buying. As such, I went to ad:tech parties and shuffled around the conference floor one afternoon. I was bored out of my gourd at the displays of ad network after ad network, but the parties were nice since they flowed with free booze.

    This year during ad:tech I drove people to the conference. On the whole, ad:tech conference goers were poor listeners but happily spoke at length about their product or service when prompted.

  • As usual, Tuesday was the slowest of my three days of driving. I picked up an older couple from the Fish Wharf. They were heading back to their hotel before taking off for home later that day.

    I took the most direct route — directly down Mason with a quick jog across to Powell down to their hotel on Union Square. I made sure to comfort them by explaining that this was the most direct route even though these weren’t busy main boulevards.

    We had a great chat about their stay in the City, returning home to the midwest, whether or not they would ever like to live in a big city, my experience living here and jumping around from job to job. They were surprised when we arrived to the hotel so quickly via the back streets. The fare was $8.95 but the guy gave me a $20. That really made my day. Thanks, midwestern couple!

    This spurred a few thoughts.

    When I start feeling down about the job of driving a taxi and become reserved, I think that there is no reason to make an effort to converse with passengers. I think, most of them don’t really care to chat, we won’t cover anything meaningful, might as well just listen to NPR.

    But, then I get a fare like this which reminds me that it’s nice that this job offers a financial incentive to have meaningful conversation. At the very least, even if the details of the conversation are not remembered by either party, the outcome of well-being is worth the effort. After all, humans laugh to signal shared positive emotions just as much as they do to react to humorous conversation.

    The worst that can happen if I try to have conversations with passengers will be a neutral outcome — nothing really happens and neither party is worse off than before. But, the best case scenario is a moment of meaning between two strangers where both are left better off than before. And, a better tip for me.

    When I put it in those terms, it is crazy to NOT try to make conversation with my passengers.

  • (Cab numbers have been changed.)

    I answered a radio call at Green and Laguna around 9 am Monday morning. I called a ‘bingo’ as I was at the intersection in question when the call was read aloud on the radio. I pulled up to the stop sign as I waited for the dispatcher to reveal the exact address, which would dictate which direction to turn at the intersection.

    Suddenly, two other DeSoto cabs appeared in front of me, having just popped over the peak of the huge hill looming in front of me where Laguna climbs up to the height of Pacific Heights.

    I couldn’t believe my eyes as in the next moment cab 2108 passed 1223 on a two-way street down a steep hill with poor visibility from just having popped over the crest of the hill. My jaw dropped, as surely did the other civilians’ jaws waiting at the intersection. Wow, 2108 really wanted that order.

    I was frozen in disbelief as the dispatcher reconfirmed the order. “383, did you hear me? The address is XXXX Green.” “XXXX Green,” I mumbled back in confirmation.

    2108 realized his defeat with my presence, but I was still scared to move forward into the intersection, given all the blue metal mass moving swiftly toward me down a steep hill. I finally turned right and headed toward the address. But, I didn’t turn into the driveway, instead stopping with my blinkers on across the street. My disbelief soon expanded as 1223, following closely behind, turned left into the driveway, effectively taking my order.

    Wow. That’s some serious competition.

    Honestly, it’s fun. I don’t take the dangerous risks that 2108 takes. I don’t steal orders to the degree that 1223 was willing to do so. But, I enjoy the game. And, there are plenty of other drivers that play nicely like me.

    2108 got in an accident later that day.

  • Early one morning I picked up a radio call from the St. Francis Hospital Emergency Room. It was a middle aged lady with few teeth holding a smorgasbord of half-finished sandwiches. Hmm.

    Well, I thought, often patients from the hospital will have a taxi voucher to return home. Maybe this was the case with her.

    We head toward a public housing shelter in the Tenderloin. I drop her off and she says, “I’ll run upstairs and grab some cash.” The fare was only $4.00. She nods to the doorman and he lets her in. She goes upstairs.

    She doesn’t return.

    Five minutes later I leave.

    Could I have tracked her down and retrieved the money? Probably. I was sitting outside her frickin’ house. The doorman obviously knows her and would know where to find her. Was it worth my time to do so? Not at all. Even if I found her I couldn’t force her to pay more than $4. I had already wasted enough time waiting for her to return, there was no sense in spending any extra time finding her for $4. It was faster to find another fare, which I did.

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Driving the day of the Olympic Torch run

Posted on April 9, 2008 by kfarr

I was not originally scheduled to work today, but I had to make up for a missed shift from earlier this week.

More to the point, I wanted to experience San Francisco during the historic procession of the Olympic Flame through our streets. What better way to feel the heart of the City than to drive a taxi today? And, I could get paid along the way.

  • I felt a general sentiment of frustration among City residents toward the balihoo surrounding the running of the Torch. I’ll be a bit more specific: I felt a general sentiment of frustration among City residents against the protests not against the Torch itself.

    A great deal of my passengers who call San Francisco home felt the demonstrations were out of hand and interfered with the spirit of the Olympic games.

    One lady said, “The summer Olympic Games should just stay in Greece from now on. Nobody ever had anything bad to say about Greece.” She was older and sat in the front as it’s easier to get in the passenger seat of the tall vans. I had picked her up from a hair appointment in the Marina and took her back home to Russian Hill.

    Another lady said, “I understand the reason behind the protests, but I don’t think it is appropriate to combine these protests with the Olympics.” She went on to suggest that the purpose of the event is to bring cultures together and that by bringing cultures together through athleticism without politics, the hosting of the Olympics by China could be a positive step to bring China toward social and political progress. She and her friend had hispanic accents. I picked them up from a hospital near Geary and Divisadero and took them home to the Mission. They had waited a long time for a taxi.

    College aged protesters said, “Free Tibet! Yay!” They were wearing lots of Tibetan flags. I took them from the planned route along the Embarcadero toward the center of the action near Beach and Van Ness.

    A group of post-college young urban professional males said (to each other), “Okay, if we’re around a big pro-China group then we’re pro-China, if we see a big group of Tibet protesters then let’s yell Free Tibet!” (This is a condensed paraphrase, but this truly represents the gist of their conversation.) I also took this group toward the revised route.

    I heard a few stories of people who tried to see the Olympic Flame for the first time in their lives during their lunch break or on their vacation, only to be foiled by the abrupt change in plans by the City’s (perhaps wise) decision to alter the route in favor of the safety of participants and spectators.

    Is it an appropriate level of demonstration if the demonstrations prevent the event from occurring in the first place? Did the protesters cause more ill will than desired political change?

  • The City’s vibrant spirit brought with it a large appetite for taxis. After about 1pm, when the Torch began its secretive relay, the demand for taxis skyrocketed past available supply. Demand did not return below supply before the end of my shift at 5pm, but walking home on Polk Street around 9pm this evening I noticed many toplights brightly broadcasting vacancy.
  • Driving a taxi can be a vastly different experience depending on shift time of day, passengers, the weather and City happenings. All these (somewhat) independent variables coagulate into the ever-important dependent variable of aggregate demand for taxicabs.

    It is the aggregate demand for taxicabs that sets the pace of your shift. Are you a hunter looking for a few camouflaged animals in the wild during the off-season when game is few and far between? Or, are you Dick Cheney with a shotgun on a ranch where quail are conveniently released prior to your arrival for easy pickin’? Today, I was Dick Cheney.

    I felt bad for customers as they told me how long they waited for a cab. Of course, they were happy to see me and were gracious that I stopped, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty that the artificial limitation of taxicabs by the City results in hardship for residents at my profit during times of extreme demand.

    Putting aside these guilty feelings, driving during these times is great fun. After dropping a fare, chances are I would get a fare on the street within a minute or two of dropping. If in an outer residential community I would turn on the radio for a few minutes and pick a fare out of the sky. It was difficult, no, impossible, for me to take a break. I did not eat save for a bagel and coffee in the morning when it was slower. Constant fares are a dangerous drug.

  • I picked up a fare midday at 7th and Market. A father and his son were heading from the BART station to Grubstake for breakfast. The father had lived in San Francisco many years back and was revisiting old haunts. He was very nostalgic about the City.

    Unfortunately, Grubstake is closed for breakfast on weekdays, so we headed for Mama’s instead via the Broadway tunnel. I love the Broadway tunnel when uncongested. It’s like flying underneath the City.

    His son read aloud most of the signs in the cab.

    “Please exit curb… curbside.”
    “Please wear seat-belts. (Dad, we’re not wearing our seat-belts.)”

    They were fun.

  • Throngs of Torch spectators packed Columbus Street sidewalks as the mass exodus headed toward beckoning media helicopters revealing the Torch’s rerouted route. I easily found a few fares from those tired of walking, and/or eager to quickly reach the action.

    This was great fun. It was something out of a movie as their sole directional guidance was, “Chase those helicopters.” Yes!

    Growing increasingly tired of pop radio, even independent pop with a beat, I recently started burning CDs with my own beats. This music added to the fun, especially as the young Torch-goers also enjoyed these beats.

    At a certain point a thought strikes me. In retrospect I imagine this thought hitting me like the opening credits of a movie where the main character is frozen for a moment such that the audience can memorize the character’s name clearly spelled out in superimposed San Serif text. The thought is this, here I am, driving as fast as is de facto permitted in San Francisco, leaping over Russian Hill in a late model Chrysler minivan taxicab, listening to techno music, getting paid to chase helicopters. Nice.

  • I received a radio call for a van ‘moving job’ on Market Street — the southern fringe of the Tenderloin. A lower income couple was moving from cheap hotel to cheap hotel. Their entire belongings were waiting patiently along with them outside.

    They said a van had come by and promptly left after a weak excuse about needing to head back to the garage. Admittedly, their pile of belongings loomed large. The larger-than-mini mini-fridge and microwave didn’t make it look any smaller.

    I don’t believe in God, but I do believe in a strangely twisted sense of fate. In this case, the part of fate was played by a taxi dispatcher a few miles south of my location. My only valid reason for not picking up a fare is if they appear to have a high likelihood of killing or robbing me. Other than that, I don’t let myself turn down a fare. I decided I would make the best of it and help them move to a new home.

    Sidetracking again, as seems to be the habit today, thank God (thank dispatcher?) that Chrysler (Christler?) designed its rear minivan seats to collapse so easily. On some van models the seats even collapse seamlessly into the floor (albeit at the expense of a user-accessible spare tire). I’ve learned how to collapse Chrysler minivan seats in seconds flat.

    Forcing myself to finish this damn post, I helped the nice folks move their apartment from Cheap Weekly Hotel A to Cheap Weekly Hotel B, four blocks away. While assisting with the unload I got some goo on my hand from the top of their microwave and hastily wiped it away. Ew.

    They tipped me well. They thanked me profusely. I said I was just answering a call from dispatch.

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Finally, I see a relevant advertisement on Facebook.

Posted on April 8, 2008 by kfarr

So, Facebook knows my favorite TV shows, my favorite authors, my favorite music, my zip code, telephone number, gender, age, work history, education history, friends and personal pictures.

Given all this information, you’d think that Facebook would be able to tailor advertisements uniquely relevant to me, right? Wrong!

I’m not sure how they’ve been messing this up for so long, but for the first time in years I finally saw an advertisement on Facebook uniquely relevant to… ME!

This ad was spot on because, drum roll, I watch this TV show. Genius.

If they keep this up, maybe they’ll be able to justify their bloated valuation!

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Sad news: New York City congestion fee proposal killed by New York State.

Posted on April 8, 2008 by kfarr

The NY Times reports on the sad news that the New York State Assembly vetoed New York City Mayor Bloomberg’s proposal to charge drivers to enter Manhattan during peak times.

While I do not understand the legal wrangling between agencies such that state representatives vetoed a local city measure, I do understand the underlying strong fear expressed by residents and elected officials of the outer boroughs and suburbs.

Their expressed fear is this: a congestion fee is a tax upon working class people living in outer New York City suburbs imposed by rich, elite Manhattan residents. This is a grave mistake in reasoning that shall cost New York City residents, visitors and commuters dearly for years to come.

Ignoring politician spin, a congestion fee is effectively a progressive tax as vehicle commuters to New York City are on the whole extremely wealthy. (A progressive tax, in theory, is a ‘good thing’ in this case as, on the whole, it taxes the wealthy more than low income residents.)

Low and middle income residents have much higher rates of public transit ridership. The congestion fee proposal under question would have improved public transit with ALL revenues from congestion fee collections going toward public transit. Further, properly pricing the limited resource of New York City roadways would immediately and directly reduce the level of congestion, significantly improving the surface transportation infrastructure including but not limited to taxicabs and busses.

So, by vetoing this bill, regional politicians were able to serve the needs of their extremely high income residents, while snubbing low and middle income residents’ access to effective transit improvements via a congestion fee. And, the regional politicians get a nice lie to tell these low and middle income residents, saying that they kept an unjust tax from hitting their wallets!

Great! Politics at work!

Links:

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