Page 12 - ARRS #582 - The Mystery of the Lost Wallet

Another Random Road Story #582

The competition was laughable. They treated the customers horribly and
the drivers worse. Their collective equipment was embarrassingly run down.
Acquiring the best drivers from each existing company wouldn’t be
difficult. I’d treat them right and offer a true lease instead of the 50% split of
the cab’s daily take as was now standard. I’d look out for them and offer a
graduated lease for the slow shifts. But I’d make ‘em take a map test before
hiring. And I’d insist that they’re fucking nice to the customers and keep a
fucking clean cab.
Yes, drivers respond better when spoken-to in their own vernacular.
I knew just how I’d plan out my human resources, equipment, marketing,
new cab stands around town, and promotional gimmicks like wooden nickel
tokens given to local bars so they could ‘comp’ their own customers $5
toward a cab ride. I had nailed down every long-term and short-term cost. I
had scrutinized my gross earning potential by using my historical first-hand
knowledge of the taxicab volume in the region, paired with traditional
sources like the US Bureau of Labor Statistics’ County Business Patterns.
Yeah, planning isn’t the problem.
Initial capital expenditures are the problem.
I have to start with at least 10 cabs (at a cost of $5,000 per, plus the
facilities and overhead to sustain such a fleet) if I want to do any sort of
marketing and have any hope of being self-sustaining.
I’d need 25 cabs (and subsequent jump in facilities and overhead) to
reach critical mass and have a professional, mass-advertised presence in
each of the little suburbs in my corner of the greater metropolitan region:
Trendy Town, Celebrity Town, Executive Town, Commerce Town, Folk Town,
Industrial Town, and all the bars, restaurants, hotels, and offices in each—
[movement from the back seat]
The customer had shifted his weight. The rear-view mirror didn’t show
much more than an outline in the back seat. It was now full dark outside.
Somewhere during the ride I must’ve turned my headlights on, but I couldn’t
recall the action.
He shifted his weight again.
I hope this guy isn’t going to puke.
My experience reminded me that a sleeping drunk will shift his weight
once, if at all. A restless drunk that moves around can bring all kinds of
trouble, from vomiting to generally obnoxious behavior.
[movement from the back seat]
He’s moving his legs around…
I kept shooting glances into the mirror and finally a streetlight illuminated
to back seat enough for me to see the customer.
He was wide awake and looking right back at me in the mirror.