My younger colleagues are all convinced that taxis are dinosaurs from a bygone era.
“A taxi?” said Jared good naturedly as we got off the plane in Fort Lauderdale after a training meeting in New York. “How old are you anyway?” I did not feel up to responding but Jared did not notice.
“Dude,” he said, “you need to get with the times and use Uber.” He dug out his smart phone. “I got an app on my phone,” he said as though speaking to a small child. “You know what that is?”
“Jared,” I said shortly. “I know how apps work. I have used Uber. Many times. I deleted the app.”
Jared was stunned at the idea of deleting the Uber app, and I went way, way up on his “Uncool” meter. He stared at me with his mouth open. He gulped. “Dude,” he said, “why?”
“Well, every time I call them I wait for 20 or 30 minutes for a car to actually show up. And there is always a whole line of taxis just waiting.” I pointed. “You see? There they are. Right there.”
Jared gave a dismissive shake of his head. “But a taxi?” he said in the same tone he would have used to say “Outhouse” or “Motel 6.”
“Besides,” I continued, “every time I request a ride from the airport the driver calls me and when they find out where I live they tell me it’s too short a drive and refuse to pick me up.” This has always mystified me; I live 10 miles from the airport which does not seem like a short ride to me, but what do I know?
“They’ve never done that to me,” said Jared primly.
“You live in South Beach,” I pointed out. “It’s a nice long ride.”
“Then I have to start over again.” I continued.
Jared thought. “This makes no sense,” he said. Then inspiration hit: “When you review the drivers after a trip do you give them five stars?”
“Never,” I said. “I’ve never met one who was worth five stars.” This was very true. When I can actually get a driver to deign to drive me home they generally spend their time complaining about the traffic or that they don’t make enough money. “I usually give them two or three stars,” I said.
“Big mistake,” said Jared. “If you rate them low they rate you lower and no one will want to drive you.”
Now it was my turn to stare. “The drivers get to rate me?” I said and Jared nodded.
“If you have a low rating no one will pick you up.” He shook his head at my ignorance. “Always give 5 the driver five stars.” He paused. “Always!”
“What about the driver who couldn’t find the airport?” I said. “I spent 20 minutes watching her drive all over Fort Lauderdale on the GPS before she finally found me.” Jared was silent. “I should have given her five stars?”
Jared nodded vehemently. “Absolutely!” he said.
“Huh,” I said eloquently. “That’s insane.”
“It’s the way the world works,” said Jared. “You need to adapt.”
“Huh,” I said again, remembering that in New York I stayed at the Marriott but Jared booked a room through Air BnB in the apartment of a stranger: It was a fourth floor walkup on a cruddy street and there were roaches in the bathroom.
“Why do you do this?” I asked him at the time; we both have the same expense allowance. He could have stayed at the Marriott too.
“For the experience,” said Jared. “To see how real New Yorkers live.”
“I’ve had plenty of experiences,” I told him.
Now, I made my way towards the waiting line of yellow taxis while Jared ordered his Uber. “See you tomorrow at the office,” I said.
I got into the waiting taxi and as we drove by I waved merrily at Jared while he was still pushing buttons on his smart phone. “Enjoy the experience,” I said under my breath.