A Little Short

Early twenties, dark hair and nice looking, she stepped into my taxi. Avoiding the contamination of eye contact, she quietly commanded me to take her to an address. Then, she snapped,

"I'm in a hurry. I have a date. I only have $8.00."

An interesting sequence. It was at least a $10.00 ride.

Now there occasionally are people who will say, "I've only got $8.00 - just drop me whenever the money runs out." Or, sometimes they'll even say, "Drop me off at $6.00. I want to give you a tip." In either case, I'll usually take them all the way to where they want to go.

A young investment banker once told me that he only had $7.00 for a $10.00 ride and that I should drop him off when the fare hit 6.70. As usual, I asked him for the money up front. He gave it to me and we headed for his destination. Just as the meter clicked on 7.15, a woman flagged me down. It was a nice day so I told the banker,

"I'm going to take you up on your offer."

I pulled the cab to a stop. With a stunned expression on his face, he started to reach into his coat pocket for his wallet. Then, remembering what he'd told me, he reluctantly got out of the cab.

The banker'd been running a little scam. Including the tip, he saved himself $10.00 a day going to and from work. It says something about the legendary "greed" of cab drivers that I was apparently the first one ever to cut short his ride.

But the woman in a hurry had a different scenario. She was telling me, rudely, that she was two or three dollars short and that I going to take her anyway. Furthermore, she expected extra service. I was supposed to get her there fast.

"It's a $10 or $11 ride," I told her.

"I'm a waitress," she replied me in a tone of voice that clued me into the fact that she belonged to a higher level of humanity than I did. She cemented her elevated status by adding, "I'm studying design."

In short, I was supposed to sacrifice a few dollars because she thought herself socially superior to me. Hardly a unique concept, but I'd never before heard it stated quite that boldly.

"I'm in a hurry!" she repeated.

"Are you new in town?" I asked her.

"Why?" she asked, indignant at my temerity for asking her a question.

"Don't you have a bank?"

"Of course I have a bank," she snapped angrily.

"Good. We can stop by your bank and get some money."

"There's nothing in it right now."

"Maybe you should buy a book on money management."

"I beg your pardon!" she said, appaulled by my bad manners.

"It sounds like you could use some advice."

"When I want advice I'll ask for it!" she said with finality - clearly terminating the conversation.

"What about your date?"

"What about my date?!"

"I'm sure he could lend you a few dollars."

"I couldn't ask him for money," she said, incredulous, "it's our first date."

For some reason I took her all the way home. The meter read 11.65. She handed me a ten dollar bill and commanded, "Give me back $2.00! I need to catch the bus tomorrow morning."

"The exercise will do you good," I told her, "you still owe me $1.65."

She called the police the next day to complain that I was "rude." I talked it over with Sergeant Donleavey.

"Nothing to worry about," he told me.

"Are you going to get me back my $1.65?"

He laughed.