Get Me My Coffee, Woman!

As a rideshare driver, one of the most common questions I get asked is "What is the most interesting passenger you've ever had?" or perhaps "Tell me a story of the craziest rider you've had." Over my time as a driver, this list has grown and grown and grown, and I'd often joke that one day I'd make a book of these stories to which the response usually consisted of a gasp and a "You should!"

So here are some of my stories. Some are sad. Most are funny. Some show how passengers can be some of the best customers and some show how they can be the worst. Some may make you laugh and others may make you shake your head. All are true and from my personal experience. However, location and names have been altered for privacy (and because I can't remember that many people's names all the time).

"Get Me My Coffee, Woman!"

Weekday early mornings, before the sun has even fully come up, are often filled with airport requests. People are getting up early in the morning in order to catch their 8am or 9am flights, wanting to beat traffic on the way to the airport and arrive at their destinations before the entire day is wasted. Often times, people will request rideshare or some other form of transportation so that they don't have to pay the rather high price tag of leaving their own vehicle at the airport with little to no security to watch over it. This also allows them to leave their vehicle at home for other family members to use. Most people heading to the airport know that they need to arrive at least an hour early in order to get through security and arrive at their boarding location. Most people also know that they should provide a little extra time for travel in case of construction, traffic, an accident, or anything else which may delay their trip as well as any time required for their rideshare to show up.

Most people, that is.

When I pick up people for the airport, there is a cluster of a few mid-sized cities that pretty much all look alike. They all have their shopping district, their cute old-fashioned "downtown strip" with all of the over-priced mom and pop stores that everybody is willing to throw their money at for the historical value, schools with giant playgrounds and sports fields of all types with giant parking lots for all of the PTA parents to park in, and large four bedroom homes with garages bigger than my own houses, the towns dotted with a few inconspicuous apartment areas for the new up-and-coming young people sure to swiftly make their way into the mini mansions. These are my airport people, business men and women going on a trip for their work or young couples going on their third extravagant honeymoon or perhaps a man or woman just needing a vacation from their stressful job and taking a trip to the tropics. They of course aren't going to leave one of their multiple fifty or sixty thousand dollar cars at a busy airport, instead opting for a private driver to drop them off right at the front step, deleting the need to walk from the parking structures or take the airport shuttles.

It was a Friday afternoon around the rush hour time, traffic already clogged up and even worse on the highways. I live in Michigan and anybody who has ever been here knows we have year-round construction in more places than we don't, entire highways often completely shut down over the weekends for construction. Even when they're open, they are often narrowed down to one or two lanes, creating mile upon mile of traffic and in Michigan, you need to take a highway to get pretty much anywhere. This day was no different, the traffic backed up due to the never-ending construction in the same area they'd been fixing for over three years as everybody flooded out of their jobs at the same time to sit in gridlocks on the highways in an attempt to get home.

My passenger that day was a very well-dressed business-looking man I'm going to call John. John came from one of these mini mansions with several cars in the driveway, on his way to the airport with a small, black, carry-on bag and a suitcase, immediately stating that he was going for a business-related trip just in case I didn't know as though it'd make some sort of difference in his trip.

The location I picked up John from is approximately an hour from the airport if made in the early morning with no traffic, gridlocks, or slowdowns. This was not early morning. The rideshare app had quoted him at approximately an hour and a half, and after telling me that his trip was for business, he immediately demanded to know why "I" was trying to claim that the trip would take more than an hour when he "knew" it wouldn't.

As I pulled the car out onto the main road, I politely explained to John that the highway was sure to be extremely backed up due to it being the Friday rush hour and thanks to the eternal construction, traffic would come to a bottleneck but that I would get him there as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could.

"I have to be there in thirty minutes!" he snapped angrily at me, "I can't miss my flight! I have to go for business!" At his upset tone, I glanced at the clock with a slight frown. Even if there was zero traffic, there was absolutely no way he'd get there in thirty minutes. I wasn't sure if he couldn't find a ride or if he had simply allowed the time to slip away from him. He had already stated that he knew that the trip normally would only take approximately an hour under no-traffic conditions, so he was familiar with the airport. I wasn't sure why he thought that I could get there in thirty minutes, but I simply nodded slightly and said that I would get him there as soon as possible. Being efficient as I try to be, I summoned forth the powers of the almighty Waze app (an app with live-time updates on traffic which will provide to users the best and fastest route at any given moment, including live updates on construction, road closures, and estimated time and an app I've used a number of times to avoid highway delays).

Not wanting to delay John and his very important business flight, I drove as I offered up the three options for getting to the airport, giving him the estimated time and distance in miles that the app was telling me. Unfortunately, they were all far more than thirty minutes, ranging from approximately an hour and forty minutes to two hours and twenty minutes. John was certainly not impressed with my inability to warp time and space, telling me in a demeaning tone to just take whatever the shortest route was and to get there "fast." "Yes, Sir," was my reply as I headed off, perhaps pushing my speed limit just a wee bit to accommodate this man.

The shortest route in time was taking the highway which had the construction and the reduced lanes. This was because there were so many people trying to get off that highway to find a different route that they'd actually jammed up the only other two ways to the airport which consisted of a different highway and what we'll call the Really Long Road which was filled with tons of shopping centers and almost just as many lights. Upon seeing the highway inching along at less than ten miles a minute, John reminded me of his need to arrive at the airport in a negative amount of time. Once more failing to summon my powers of space and time manipulation, I turned my phone on its holster some so that he could see it, smiling at him as I politely indicated the three routes, pointing to the map to show him that despite the current slow down we were in, it appeared to let up in approximately three and a half miles after where it connected to Really Long Road and that I was doing my best to get him to the airport as fast as I could on a Friday evening.

"I have to get to the airport. This is a business trip," John reminded me once again in case I had forgotten as he waved his hand some in annoyance towards the right, "Take the exit to Really Long Road. There's no construction there." "If that's what you want, Sir, but the traffic lets up on this highway right after that exit, and we should get back to normal speeds." "I know what I'm doing. Take Really Long Road."

They say the customer is always right. Thus, I fell silent and obeyed the customer's wishes. We slowly crept through traffic as John got on his phone, making really important business calls. As we approached the exit to Really Long Road, the traffic started to pick up some, going up to about twenty-five miles per hour. I could see the end of the construction up ahead as the lanes extended back out to four lanes, the traffic speeding up some more. However, John had commanded me to take Really Long Road so, putting on my blinker and squeezing myself in with all of the other cars trying to get off the highway, I made my way to Really Long Road.

It didn't take long for John to realize that we were back in a traffic jam and back to creeping along. I amused myself in the traffic by literally watching people on pedal bikes zooming so far ahead of us that I lost sight of them. Everybody was trying to squeeze into turns and merge lanes that they were blocking the intersection. Thus, every time our light turned green, nobody could move since cars coming from the other direction were stopped in the middle of the intersection, desperate to get to their own places as I just sighed, knowing that if people simply obeyed the lights, more people would end up getting through. People were often not that smart, however, and we inched forward every time one of the cars up front decided that they were going to chance it and zoom across the intersection and hope that oncoming cars didn't hit them so that they could get their turn in line.

We finally made it onto Really Long Road. The speed limit is 50 mph there but we spent most of it going approximately 30-35 mph which perhaps wouldn't have been so bad considering how many cars were jammed onto the road except that there was a stop light every half mile and every single one of them seemed to be red.

As I drove calmly, if not slightly aggressively since I knew nobody would give me my due if I didn't, through the traffic, having been driving too long to get mad over it all, John started complaining about how late it was. I did not reply. His complaints about being late converted to complaints about how tired he was and how he got no sleep and didn't have a chance to get any coffee before he left. Despite the evening hour, I figured perhaps he'd been up all night doing his important business work and was a daytime sleeper. I know I certain am half the time. It would also explain why he was running so late.

As we drove slowly along Really Long Road, I realized that John had stated several times in a row his dying need for coffee to deal with "the situation." Trying to provide good customer service, I indicated all of the stores and shops to our right, asking politely if he needed me to stop by one of them so that he could get some coffee. For the first time, John looked interested as he glanced around, asking me what I'd recommend. Personally, I'm not a coffee drinker and told him so but I knew the popular places for coffee that people often requested, and I knew what shops were coming up that would be easy to get in and out of. I told him of the good gas stations if he wanted cheap and I told him of the Tim Hortons just ahead as well as a few other coffee shops, hoping that a little coffee may brighten his evening.

"Tim Hortons is fine," John said, "Which coffee are you going to get me?" Slightly puzzled at his question, I glanced in the rear view mirror at him, sure that I had misunderstood as I replied, "I believe they have a large variety so you can get whatever coffee you want, Sir. Would you like me to go through the drive-through or park so you can go inside and get it?" We weren't quite there yet as the Tim Hortons was another mile and a half or so away but I wasn't sure what his preference was.

Upon asking him this question, John gave me the same questioning look I'd just given him as though he didn't understand the question so I tried to rephrase, "The drive-through is usually busier but may be more convenient for you. Some passengers aren't comfortable with it, though. I can park if you'd prefer and wait for you to come back out." John continued to give me the questioning look as I tried to figure out another way to phrase it since we were getting closer and closer to the Tim Hortons.

Then John asked me a question that made my head jerk slightly in surprise, one of those moments where you're pretty sure you heard them right and yet it was so ridiculous that you try to convince yourself that you couldn't have possibly gotten that correctly.

"Which way do you normally buy coffee for your passengers?"

John was not joking. He was completely serious. He thought I was going to purchase his coffee for him. It made me wonder if he'd ever taken a rideshare ride before or how exactly that had gone through his head. What kind of lifestyle was he living that he thought his driver would buy his coffee for him? Trying to not judge and tell myself that different people lived different lives, I politely explained to him that I did not purchase food, drink, or other items for the passengers. I wasn't getting reimbursed for such things. I was just the driver and was offering to drive him to his coffee shop of choice so that he could purchase whatever coffee he wanted.

John immediately got angry, demanding that I purchase his coffee for him. He said his business paid for the ride and that I should accommodate his every need. He pointed out that he got meals and coffee on the airplane and that I, too, should purchase him anything he wanted. I attempted to point out that drinks and food were included in the purchase price of the plane ticket, and that I was only paid to pick him up and drop him off but John would not allow me to get a word in, continually demanding that I not only pay for his coffee but purchase him TWO (and Tim Hortons is not cheap coffee) so that he'd have one for later (pretty sure he can't bring that onto the plane).

I sighed and fell silent, knowing better than to argue with entitled people. Whatever their life or upbringing was that they believed the world owed them everything, I felt no need to cause more drama. Thus, I simply passed by the Tim Hortons instead and kept driving. John threw a fit about this, demanding that I instead stop by the Starbucks. I nodded slightly and politely asked if he wanted me to go through the drive-through or park so that he could go in and pay for his drink, sure to put just a tiny bit of emphasis on the fact that he was paying in case he forgot.

John shook his head and then said something else that surprised me. "You're a woman," he scolded me, "You're supposed to get me coffee." Personally, I'm not gender-biased. I don't believe anybody is supposed to do something because of their gender (hold open a door, pay for meals, raise a child, whatever). I didn't even have a reply for how he'd gone from entitled to sexist, so I simply drove on, passing by the Starbucks as well.

John went back to his very important business calls after stating how useless I was as a woman (not as a driver or a worker but as a WOMAN). I didn't reply, staying silent the rest of the way to the airport which took us an hour and ten minutes in total thanks to taking Really Long Road.

When John got out of the car, he paused a moment by the door before he turned around, frowning some as he looked at me, stating that he was pretty sure he'd missed his flight and how it was my fault and that I HAD to bring him to a nearby hotel (and was likely going to tell me I had to pay for it too) while he tried to switch his flight.

I would have loved to help him out but my in-car radio had just gotten really loud, and my personal flight attendant in my head warned me to roll up the windows as we were about ready for take-off. John was yelling after the car as I pulled out, singing along to the radio song "Angry Johnny."

I wonder if he ever got to his really important business trip.