For about a month I haven't shared any stories with you. This is partly because of blogging technicalities, partly because I am enjoying living in the moment with my family, and partly because deep down I know I have to share this story and I guess I really don't enjoy thinking about it. Writing a blog about it just amplifies those thoughts for several hours while I put it into words, and it's not that pleasant. Nonetheless, the night I am sharing with you has played in a big role in who I have become as a rideshare driver.
"What is the craziest thing that has happened to you as a driver?" is the most common question I get from my riders. After three months, I have plenty of stories to share, but there is one night that brought me to one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I'm not sure I will ever forget it. In fact, I love to share it with strangers, it elicits a big reaction and a few laughs and then in a minute or so, I'm done thinking about it. But very few of my family and friends know these details because I don't want to hear the "that's not safe" mantra. I guess it's time to let the cat out of the bag on the ugliest night of driving I have ever had.
The first Friday night I drove for Lyft I started in my hometown. There is nothing glamorous about driving here. Generally I feel safe, but in the beginning, it took me time to decipher when and where would produce the most money in the safest places. There are three types of riders one will encounter in my local scene: The "my car is at the shop" rider (normal people), the drinker that doesn't want to put anyone at risk (also mostly normal), and the ones whose licenses have already been revoked and/or are involved in illegal activity. This is different from the Bay where you will also get the tourists, the business travelers, and those who don't own cars because they live in the city.
My first three riders were normal. By the fourth, I was still in town and it had just gotten dark. I was annoyed because I could see my rider on the GPS leave the pickup location right as I was pulling up and walk across the street to a gas station. It was rude. If you request a ride you shouldn't purposely leave a driver waiting when they could be giving somebody else a ride. She came to the car and asked for a little more time, she had a young child with her. I said it was fine and I waited. After several minutes of stewing, she came out and got in my car crying. Her father, who was in the gas station, was turning himself in to the police for something the next morning and that was the last time she would see him for years. At that moment I realized that a lot of people in this world have much bigger problems than I do. That was just the beginning.
Next, I got a request for a ride across town. It was a girl around twenty years old. She came out of a house in a very average, lower income, older neighborhood. She was quiet and all I remember is that she had heavy jagged eyebrows that looked like they could stab you if you got too close. She was going to "Scary Town" and I was excited because that was a solid 20-minute drive. When I asked her where she was going, she told me work, and then she never said another thing except where to let her out. Sadly her "work" was at a really seedy motel. Again, a lot of people have bigger problems than I do.
I had several normal people after that, and some fun conversations. One rider was going to her old neighborhood to collect rent money from some people. She was very nice and normal but her old neighborhood was one of the most frightening places I have ever had to wait. People were practically encircling my car and I grabbed my pepper spray and held it ready. Nothing happened. When she got in the car she explained that it was a bad neighborhood but she didn't feel like anybody would get shot there. I am not a fan of being in neighborhoods that require that type of classification.
Then it began...
Around 10:30 PM I got a request for an apartment complex. I got there around 10:45 and I couldn't find the rider. She called and she was rude. She was angry because I couldn't find her (totally NOT my fault) and she was going to be late for work.
Now, you have to understand that I just came from a customer service management position where my whole career hinged on whether or not I could "make it right" for disgruntled customers. Between that and the star rating system within Uber and Lyft's apps, there's not much I am unwilling to do or apologize for when somebody is yelling at me.
I found her on a sidewalk and she got inside my car. From the first moment, she was upset and I was trying to be apologetic and accommodating. Now I don't know to this day if she was telling me to go somewhere other than the address she put into her request, or if she was just asking me to take an alternate route, but my GPS was yelling at me like Siri was going through menopause. I couldn't do anything right. Every turn was wrong. Couple that with not knowing the city, it being completely dark outside, and having my rider constantly throw out tiny pieces of commands like "Take Main Street instead," and you can envision the pressure I was feeling.
Just for future reference, YOUR RIDESHARE DRIVERS DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET AROUND EVERY TOWN THEY DRIVE IN! There is even a good possibility they have never been there before!
She kept telling me where to go, but not in a way that I understood. Then she was on her phone the whole time talking to some man about wanting to come see his new bed... SUPER CLASSY. Every now and then she would pause to yell which way to turn. Finally, I silenced my GPS and just tried to take whatever directions she volunteered.
I know what you're thinking. You are thinking, "Why on earth didn't you pull over and tell her to get out of your car?" I know. I know. But this was a lesson that this guest-centric, people-pleasing, mistake-fixing driver was going to just have to learn the hard way. Don't worry, Mom. I've learned.
We finally arrived at our destination. It was a desolate shopping center with a ghetto supermarket on one end, a liquor store on the other, and a gas station on the street corner. There were no signs of life except for the tweakers hobbling randomly through the parking lot like they were auditioning for The Walking Dead. I was terrified. She directed me to the corner of the supermarket and I thought, "Ok, I guess that's her corner." When I drove over there, there was a tall black metal gate closing off the back of the shopping center from all other traffic. It was enclosed with large oleanders separating it from the street. There was not a single light. I was starting to worry that the Walking Dead might start banging on my car.
When we got to the corner I open the back door and she immediately said, "No, not here. Back there." I laughed a little bit in relief and said, "There's a big gate right there. I can't even go back there." Just then she took her phone off her ear and said, "No, they are going to open it for you." What the?! What was happening? I suddenly felt like this was going to be on a future episode of Dateline. Now here is the moment when I knew something really bad was about to happen: Some dude, wearing all black, stood up from the ground and tugged on a strap that he had attached to the black gate and they beckoned me in.
I would love to tell you that I spent those final moments thinking about my family and everything I have to live for, but honestly, I didn't. Those things flashed before me in that cliche way, and then all I could think was, "If I go back there and they rob me or try to hurt me, I am going to have to use my minivan as a weapon and run over these people. Somebody might die. But my car will be damaged. I might have to drive through that gate if they trap me. My car is going to be hurt. I just quit my job to drive this car, and I can't wreck it over these fools and that gate or I'm screwed. Alive, but screwed."
Those five seconds seemed like an eternity and she yelled, "Drive back there!" and I sat in silence, not wanting a one-star review. Again she said, "That's where I'm going. Drive in there!" and I finally mustered up the courage to respectfully say, "I am not comfortable with that." In that moment she knew she wasn't going to get me and she shouted, "OKAY!" and I opened her automatic door and she stomped away in her heels into the darkness and past the gate.
I have no way to know what was going to happen behind that gate. Maybe there was some major illegal activity going on and that's legit where she "worked." I checked the satellite image of the property the next day and all that was back there were two small shipping containers and a fence enclosing all of it. Maybe they were going to trap me, kill me, dump me, and sell my minivan. Honda Odysseys are pretty sweet. I will never know.
I spent the next twenty minutes in a daze. I guess I was in shock. I got out of that neighborhood as fast as possible and I took the next ride that came up on my app. I got lost getting to him because I was so disoriented. When I finally picked him up it was a nice 19-year-old kid who was trying to work and live on his own because his mom had passed away. He really had a lot to get off his chest. I listened. Then by midnight, I pulled into my driveway and decided I should probably call the police and let them know what happened.
For several days I was in denial that this was anything serious. I kept telling myself, and a few others that this was just part of the job I signed up for and I was going to have to get used to it. Thank God sanity set in and I realized that no job is worth getting trapped at midnight in scary town envisioning yourself driving over other humans to protect your life.
Instead of giving up, this was a turning point for me in the way I planned the time and location of my driving. I have not had anything close to this ever happen again, and I don't foresee it in my future. But if I ever get that on-edge feeling again, I will just pull over in a very public place, open the automatic side door and tell them, in an unmistakable fashion to get out of my car.
I learned my lesson.
