Two Things I Hate to Do

I hate to pay for shipping and I hate to pay for cab rides. I hate them. I just do. I hate them so much.

So I usually don’t take cab rides. I think that they  price gouge and at times, in the past, had to use them late at night. There were problems, they would say it will be 15 minutes, and then it was at least 45, smoking rude disgusting male cabbies, and terrible interpersonal skills. After lots of that I started winter biking, at least I knew that I could safely and quickly get myself home. I threw off the yoke of being a consumer of cabs with no rights or recourse.

In fact, I’ve only taken three cab rides in the last ten years. And that includes times when I didn’t have a bike or one was not working and in need of repair, and even when I lived in two other states. Mostly I stayed home instead of using a cab, that’s how much I hate them.

The first cab ride was when I had my colonoscopy and didn’t have any family members who were in any way “there for me” in my life, so had to get a cab home after that. I couldn’t call the more reasonably priced disability van, cause they would not come up to the second floor and escort me downstairs. It cost about ten dollars to go three miles, and that was a shocker, cause I hate cabs and paying for them, and do it so rarely that I could not imagine that it would cost me that much.

I  really regret settling for the cab driver as I was loopy AF from the drugs they pumped into me and wanted to go up to everyone and have intense and meaningful conversations with total strangers. Well that is so common of a thing for me to want to do, but the ability to not be able to stop myself, that was scary, as I didn’t feel like I had a grip on myself and knew that a cab driver was not someone to help me get a grip.

Luckily got home safely and then had to ask for more help at the pharmacy with the woman who I rented a room in her house. It never would have occurred to me to ask her for a pick up where she actually had to come out of her car and go upstairs and wait for me for a few minutes. She just wasn’t that sort of person. Luckily she was willing to take me for some meds and some grocery shopping later that day when I was still loopy in a very scary way.

The second cab ride was when I was dealing with the bedbug apartment and had to be out of there for about ten hour. I wanted to keep my bike in the apartment, so that it got treated, cause by then I was scary paranoid. I called a cab after the employees came and I could ask them lots of questions. I waited outside on the stoop for the cab to come. I was super lucky that my nephew helped me get home that evening. He’s a swell kid, even though an adult, he’s still a swell kid.

The third cab ride happened two years ago when I came out of the downtown Macy’s to the absence of my bike. I was more than a mile from home and since I can only walk about half a block at a time, well that was a no-brainer, get a cab. Cab driver was very nice and sympathetic, gave him a good tip, but seriously I also hate giving cab drivers tips.

It is more that I buy something from some company or person who wisely includes the shipping in the price, cause I hate paying for added on shipping costs. Perhaps it is cause I am so poor and have been poor for so long, but I really do  loathe it.

But let me just add, as an ex-waitress, I am a meticulous tipper of waitresses.  I love to talk to waitresses and get them involved in my eating experience. One of my brothers hates that kind of thing by staff, so I try to curtail myself when going out with him. 🙂 I hated being a waitress, in my twenties, when my social anxiety was in full bloom. It was so hard for me and at a time when I sincerely loathed and hated myself, and that I think, contributes to my appreciating and loving waitresses.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s