This Is Why I'm Like This: The Side Door

  I have never, that I can recall, entered a career or a relationship through the front door.
  This metaphor is pretty transparent. No need to badger you with my history, just take my word for it. I will use the example of my current teaching career. I did not go to college with the intent of becoming a teacher. I did not return to school to receive my certification through a traditional program. I got the job, first, then entered the TIR at Metro for my certification. I understand this is not just unconventional, but my mentors informed me that it was the most difficult path to becoming a teacher. The program had a high wash out rate, and you are asked to teach full time, learn about the law, classroom management and state standards whilst teaching. You are also building your portfolio for the CDE, and paddling like hell to stay afloat.  My mom used to shake her head and wonder why I always had to do everything the hard way. I dunno. It's just more meaningful that way. Or I'm just a pill. You decide.
   That's the path I chose.
   So it is without any surprise at all that I watch my children do the same thing.
   Genoa was the one who ventured farthest toward that traditional front door, she entered college and lived in the dorms. Then she made a hard left and dropped out for a semester before deciding to return. That's my kid! She graduated and spent the last year in Durango teaching preschool, making her own way, damn the torpedoes and crappy apartment. Again, that's my kid. She has moved back in temporarily to work at a job closer to her heart and adjust her priorities: Do What You Love, Fuck The Rest.
   Harp is the closest to following my path, she went to Red Rocks for a semester, then switched to massage therapy school, became a massage therapist, only to conclude she did not like it. Then she got her Pharm Tech Certificate, and then decided that what she wanted all along was med school---nobody is surprised, we were calling her Dr. Harper when she was five---and Loans Be Damned, she's going to do it. She is returning to RRCC to burn off her gen eds and get on track, because she's still too stubborn to just take out a loan and go to CU. I love how frugal she is, I know where she gets it, but it gets in the way of Doing What She Loves. Taking out loans counts as "Fuck The Rest".

  That's all, briefly. I just wanted to give a moment to my off center, side door beauties who are gonna do what they wanna do, but they're gonna do it their own way.

  I love them.


  I couldn't be more proud.

This Is Why I'm Like This: Driving in Denver in 2019

   I have never been cussed at as much as I have in the last year.
   This is not hyperbole, and it's a crappy first line, but Immma stick to it.
   The first line is why I, kryssi martin, steer clear of my neighborhood King Soopers.
   I do have a point here, one I wish I did not have to make.
   At the entrance of my neighborhood King Soopers, there is a four way stop. The stop guards the entrance to the grocery store on one side, McDonald's on the other. To go straight takes you to the ARC and eventually another exit. The entrance to the center is the fourth road. 
   I know the rules of a four way stop. I took a test to get my driver's license. Whoever arrives first goes first, then second, then third, then last, moving left. I also know the rules, because in the 1980's in Houston, there was a radio zoo show that featured "Lannie with Traffic and Bondage", who had a mantra "The lights are out at Almeda and San Jacinto, treat it as a four way stop ---Whoomp". He would then explain a four way stop, every so often, for those who are particularly stupid.
   Here is a handy tutorial I copped off of google in two seconds. See how easy the rules are to find?

   Never insist on taking the right-of-way. Note that the law does not allow anyone the right-of-way. It only states who must yield. When a driver is legally required to yield the right-of-way but fails to do so, other drivers are required to stop or yield as necessary for safety. So, if another driver does not yield to you when he or she should, forget it. Let the other driver go first. You will help prevent accidents and make driving more pleasant.

    Another handy site suggested you allow the more aggressive driver to go first to avoid accidents. This advice is only helpful when the aggressive driver is one waiting at a stop sign, not the one waiting behind you.
   The last few years, driving in Colorado has become unrecognizable. Road rage is up some ridiculous percentage, and people are passing on the right (dude, in Colorado that's a BIKE LANE). We had a guy pull a woman over who had a kid in her car and wave a gun at her because of some imagined driving infraction. They got him on video tape. Dude. I don't know your life, but maybe try decaf. 
   Lyft drivers are stopping after four hours, they can't take the intensity of what has happened. One driver said she was in tears just driving to Ft. Collins due to all the rage. Harp came home after two hours one night because she saw three accidents and a bicyclist run over. Not hit: run over. IN LAKEWOOD.
   My experiences have not, thus far, gone beyond yelling and flipping me off, which seems to be the preferred form of communication. I had a guy flip me off and speed around me because I was merging onto 6th ave from Simms two car lengths ahead of him. I guess he needed me to slow down so he could be where I was? It made no sense, I was no where near him when he went off.
    Meanwhile, at my neighborhood King Soopers' four way stop:
    A woman, in a mini van, was so horrible to me that I refuse to return to that intersection ever again.
    She was in a mini van.
    She was behind me, and I had arrived third. Arriving third at a four way stop means that two other cars go ahead of me. So I waited. 
   She was having none of it, and immediately began to wave her arms.
   I looked in my rear view mirror and indicated the first car moving through the intersection. As if, perhaps, she was blind and could not see the car.
  She flipped me off.
   I shook my head and indicated the second car moving through the intersection.
   Even with her windows closed, I could hear the vulgarities.
   Then she leaned on her horn.
   Unsure of what the proper response is to such road rage, I again looked in my rear view mirror, and in a tone reserved for five year olds I stated loudly: "Do you see our friends in the intersection? They got there first. They get to go first. We will wait for them patiently, our turn will come."
   She rolled down her window and hurled a name at me that I've never been called, in 16 years of teaching high school.
   This grown woman in her mini van unleashed all of her venom on me.
   By this time it was my turn, but I had missed it because I was trying to reason with a psycho. The third driver slowly made his way through, waving at me and shrugging, as he had a front row seat to the shit show and was glad it wasn't him.
   I drove through the stop, and did not turn into King Soopers as planned. I watched in my rear view mirror and noted that's where she was going. I just went forward and came home.
  The thing with Safeway is there is a four way stop as well, but it's not as crowded as King Soopers, and it's off of Alameda, and I come up the other way. In other words, I never need to use it. I can slide into Safeway from a reasonable entrance, and glide into a parking spot without ever encountering anyone who is crazy about four way stops.
  And so, all in all, to sum up. The fact that I worked at and quit King Soopers has nothing to do with my comfort level when shopping there. I won't return because I can't deal with that four way stop ever, ever again.
  Scene.

This Is Why I'm Like This: Pin Hole Gum Surgery, A Summary

 11 August 2019
  Four days ago, I had pin hole gum surgery. Here is the story thus far.
  Why
   For the last ten years my dentist has been suggesting that I consider gum surgery. My gums were receding at an alarming rate. I have great, healthy teeth and the gums that remained were healthy, they were just retreating up into my nasal passages, leaving the roots exposed. It did not bother me, cosmetically, until my left canine became exposed and black. Gross. The sensitivity was always there, but that's what Sensodyne toothpaste is for. Finally, at my appointment last year, she reacted pretty strongly to how much my teeth had moved. "Our teeth are going to move the older we get,usually they become more of an overbite. This," she indicated my now crooked front tooth "is not due to age." I mentioned that the front left tooth, next to the black rooted canine, could be felt moving. In fact, I could click it around with my tongue. She held her face as stoic dentists do, and said "You should probably look into gum surgery this year."

  What is it?
  I was actively avoiding gum surgery for as long as possible, ten years to be exact: Sensodyne, drinking coffee through a straw, getting a bite guard, etc. The idea of someone scraping the roof of my mouth and stitching it to my gum line was worse than the idea of just having all of my teeth punched out and replaced with implants. My sister in law had that type of gum surgery years ago and watching her go through it has never left my frontal lobe. There was also the cadaver option, grafting someone else's gums to mine. I already have someone else's MCL screwed to my knee, thanks, I'm over my quota. Then there were the synthetic materials. Again, stitching something to my existing gums, but this time it would be something man made. My reluctance was not to the material but to the stitching. I don't want anything stitched to my gums. After my last dental appointment, my moving teeth and the beginning of pain under my nose where my tooth was exposed, I started looking around online for an oral surgeon. My dentist had given me a referral to a periodontist, but they were insanely costly and involved stitching. I had sticker shock when I realized it was going to cost about $1500 A TOOTH, was considered to be "elective" by the insurance company and was $1500 a tooth. "Elective" and "cosmetic" are words the crappy dental coverage uses to tell you they aren't going to pay for it. Why would I think they would? They only cover 50% of a cavity fill. Is that elective? Oh How I Hate Insurance Companies...back to our story.
  I decided it was going to suck and I was going to have to work additional jobs, anyway, so I may as well find a dentist close to home. I google searched Lakewood, and found someone  very near home, Colorado Advanced Dentistry. I knew exactly where they were, a low lying doctor looking building from the 1970's. I got on their website and discovered that Dr. Snitzer does something called "pin hole gum surgery". Not having any idea what that meant, I read through the material on the website. Immediately I was intrigued: no stitching. No attaching something else to my gums at all, in fact. They just pull my gums down and reattach them with collagen. I looked up photos, and while it's not overwhelming, like taking years off of your age or pounds off of your thighs, it was impressive. People with recession worse than mine had their gums pulled back down to a normal looking gum line and they looked great. I held my breath as I looked for the cost. AH, if you have to ask you can't afford it, so I clicked off and tried to forget about it.
   A week later, my tooth was moving daily and I was starting to have slight pain. I reopened the website and called for a free consultation.

  The Dentist
  I met Dr. Snitzer, who by my gauge is 25 years old and too young to be a dentist. She wears false eyelashes and smiles a lot. Her equipment is advanced, her hygienists and office staff are kind and attentive. So is my regular dentist, I think it's a trend. They can't be rude because, unlike medical docs, not everything they do is covered by insurance, they need your business.
   Dr. Snitzer studied this procedure with the guy who invented it. I saw that on the website, but did not see that she also trains other dentists in the procedure. My hygienist told me that once a month she travels to teach this procedure. Wow. She's probably the best in Denver, eh? How'd I luck into that?

   The Cost
   In true medical fashion, nobody breathes a word of the cost until after the free consultation. I am ushered into a small office with a woman who immediately hands me a Care Card application. She tells me most insurance companies will only cover a portion of the surgery, and that the Care Card is your best bet for the remainder of the cost. I don't even know how much this is going to cost yet, but clearly it's going to be a lot. I finally ask. "$12,000 for the upper and lower," she says flatly.
   I apply for and receive the Care Credit card, which has a $9,000 limit. I figure I can work other jobs, Jim's getting a bonus in the fall, we can spread the rest on the other cards. I have all of this in place when it occurs to me the appointment I made was just for the upper. They don't like to do both at once. So I call the week before to get the cost. I am relieved to learn that just the upper will cost $5 grand, and the  insurance would cover $2.To add to the circus, I am on Jim's insurance and his company is changing to a different insurance on 1 August. My surgery is 7 August. The old insurance would cover about $2 thou, the new insurance is an unknown amount. At least I'm only on the hook for the $5 grand, not $12 grand. If I can't get this paid off, I won't get the bottom done. They're not causing me any pain or annoyance, anyway.

  The Surgery
   Since there is no stitching I don't know why they call it surgery. She used teeny tiny instruments to poke pin holes into my gums and pull them down. Once that was done, she anchored them with collagen. Everybody kept acting very casual about this whole thing, and telling me most people go back to work the next day, there is swelling but not pain, blah blah blah. I  got online and found a few posts about the surgery, and discovered that a few people have had some pain, that's it. A few others are disappointed that their gums didn't stay all the way down, that they healed higher than they were placed. Which makes complete sense, and which Dr. Snitzer told me would happen, which is why she over corrects.
   It took longer to numb me than it took to pin hole my gums down. And the numbing was the painful part.
   The whole thing is weird. You're awake. You can hear her scraping away. You can feel the pressure of her tugging on your gums.  The other hygienists all came to observe my surgery. According to the chatter, this was going really well and my gums were fabulous.The collagen has saline and tastes like salt. That's it. The entire thing took and hour and a half.
   The weirdest part is that when she was working on my canines, I thought I was going to sneeze. I did not, she was just working so high up that she was too close to my nasal cavity. I wasn't wrong, my gums were receeding into my nose.
   The rest is on me. Soft foods only for a week, then nothing crunchy or sticky for six weeks. No lifting my lip to show everyone my gums, let them heal. No brushing, eww, but I was gifted this lovely mouth wash. I had an appointment 24 hours after, and have one next week, then three weeks then another three weeks to make sure it's healing. I must use her as my dentist, as untrained hygienists can wreck  the work. I don't want that, thank you, I just paid $5 grand to have this done. I'll be paying this off for the rest of my life. The amount includes all follow ups, etc.
   They took pics on Thursday, and I was aghast. My gum line is really low (it will pop back to something more natural over the next few months) and straight. No exposed roots. Wow.
   Considering the trauma to my gums, they were right about no real pain. Some discomfort and swelling, but I've primarily slept. When I'm awake I take the antibiotic and drink beer. I have to wear the night guard 24/7, unless I'm eating, which causes pressure on that out of place tooth. But in the long run, maybe it'll move back as the gum heals and I won't need invisalign next year.
   I'm no longer Keto, as I have to eat soft foods and I'm not doing a week of mashed cauliflower, sorry. I was sad to let it go--I can't have meat, or broccoli, which have been my staples for a year---but welcomed mashed potatoes back with glee. I've lost three pounds, and I've done nothing but soft carbs and beer. Perhaps I've stumbled on a new diet craze!
   All in all to sum up: Pin Hole Gum Surgery is A Good Thing. It is expensive. Dental insurance sucks. Nothing had to be stitched and nobody scraped the roof of my mouth. Also: beer and mashed potatoes.
   Scene.
 

This Is Why I'm Like This: Dogs Who Sing With Wind Chimes and the Laminator

   I am struggling to write what is necessary and true, whilst avoiding the white noise mantras overrunning social media. I want to rediscover the "funny" in my writing, but struggle to find topics.  As I spent an entire year dealing and not dealing with being a language arts teacher, I sliced my hand on the paper cutter and  that was, apparently, just the opening act. Yesterday I returned to school a day after pin hole gum surgery because I was bored and the country was arguing again and I just wanted to have control over something, anything, after a day in bed recovering. I wanted to laminate and post my new door art, which serves two purposes: one, it tells the kids it's my room. My colleagues all have over door posters that reflect who they are, from "Throw Kindness Around Like Confetti" to V For Vendetta. This summer I procured The Perfect Poster for me. Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia, with one word "REBEL", at the bottom. I have been looking forward to mounting this on my classroom door all summer. The Second purpose is to cover the small window in the door, which we are instructed to do so that a shooter cannot see into the classroom. Because if they can't see us we don't exist and they won't come in, but push a chair against the locked door in case they do come in. Some classrooms have a small blind on the inside of their door, some just put up black paper. Lang Arts seems to have universally chosen the exterior door poster that achieves the goal.
  I'm not heavily medicated or even in pain, I was just bored so I went in. I measured the poster to the laminator to confirm it would fit. I warmed up the laminator and waited for it to say "Ready". I began to slide the poster in, and looked up to talk to a colleague who came to hug me when I didn't say "hi". I didn't say "hi"because my gums are swollen, I have a mouth guard in and my face doesn't really work right now. I then slowly and sluuringly explained to her my surgery, and she asked a few questions and left. When I looked down, my poster was not emerging out of the back side of the laminator.
  That can't be right. Where is it going?
  I hit "Stop" and "Reverse" and the thing just starts to roll up, backwards.
  I accept immediately that I have screwed this up, and try to pull. The word REBEL tears off in my hands.
  I don't use the laminator much, so I procure the help of the temporary tech guy in the room. He is temporary because our tech guy quit. He has no idea, and asks me who is the one that runs the laminator usually? The librarian? I look at him squarely and say "You.  Sean, the guy you replaced is the boss of this area." He rudely mumbled "That's not happening, call the number on the side of the machine." I would rather find Mark, the beloved custodian, but I see freshmen doing registration which means he's tasked doing something, somewhere else today, probably with lockers. I know he could fix it if he was here, and he would laugh at me and love me anyway. I don't like the new guy, and he clearly does not like that he has to be here. Nor does he have any idea how to unravel a FUBAR laminator. He then points to a sign  on the backside of the laminator. A sign written in red sharpee on a piece of paper that has curled under the machine. It says "MAKE SURE THERE IS AT LEAST THREE INCHES OF PLASTIC SHOWING BEFORE YOU BEGIN".
  Huh.
  He read it out loud to me and said "That's probably why this is there." I like him even less, he is now a complete Ass Gnome as far as I'm concerned.
  So I call the number on the machine, and the contact name they have for service--after they find us, first reading the only address they have in our zip code as a church-- is someone who quit two years ago, and the model number they have on file is wrong. I ask the new guy if he can be the contact for the repairman, and he shrugs and says "OK", and I give the woman on the other end of the phone the main line number, as the temp guy doesn't have a direct line, or a number he knows of, or a last name. I look at the machine and realize that if this was the theatre three years ago, a student and I simply would have taken the thing apart, fixed it and put it back together again. But this is the copy room and I am a language arts teacher and I am not with a student, I am with a guy who works at the district and has been voluntold he is our temp tech support.
  I then hang up with the service department located somewhere in the south based on the woman's dialect and delightful manners, which are a stark opposition to those displayed by Temp Tech Guy, and go to send an email to the AP who can contact a custodian about this.  Because this whole time on the phone, I knew this was not going to work and that Mark could fix it if only I could find Mark, but Temp Tech Guy was all ramped up about calling the number on the machine I lost focus.  So I adjourn to 1743. My classroom computer is unplugged, unhooked and when replugged in does not access the internet. So I use my phone, get on the school email to send the following to the AP:
  "Welcome back, I jammed the laminator. I called the service department, here is the reference number. I'm leaving now, I've done all I can here."
  For the record I did not send what I wanted to send:
  "Hello. Where is Sean? This guy is useless. Against my will I called the service department. I killed the laminator. I left a note saying 'Welcome Back, kryssi jammed me.' Also nothing is hooked up to the internet in my room. The hell is Mark? Help. Welcome back."
    School hasn't even started yet.
    I need to go in and rearrange my room, they cleaned it this summer and faced all of my desks toward the front. A fun side note is that blinds have weirdly appeared on the inside of my door, covering the tiny window. I no longer need the blinds, I have...well, I had and will have again, Carrie. "These aren't the blinds you're looking for. Move along." I can drive. I could go in and rearrange my room, but then I'd just get mad that my computer is not working and the temp tech new guy and I don't have a great relationship. I have meetings all next week, I'm not sure when I will get time to do my room plus planning,  and Jim had to order me another poster. Also I can't eat anything except soup and yogurt and mashed potatoes yet I'm putting on weight because I'm Keto and there is nothing Keto on the post surgery menu.I'm not going back today.
  I found a video of a dog singing a duet with wind chimes. Then I took a nap. Then I wrote this.
  I feel another nap coming on.

This Is Why I'm LIke This: The Best Jobs To Deal With People At Their Worst. Restaurants

  This is not a very long post as one time I wrote a play about working in a restaurant, and I pretty well saturated the issues. Things have not changed in 20 years as near as I can tell, based on my time as a customer and the stories I hear from my rides.

  The Patriarchy Is Alive And Well
   The last time I worked in a bar/restaurant was over 20 years ago. I worked for an aggressively sexist Greek who believed only men could bartend and attractive women should wait tables. It never occurred to him that he was wrong, and with a few exceptions--me included---nobody rocked his boat. His business, his rules. He was generous in other ways, he always sold Girl Scout cookies for the local troop, and every holiday each employee received a free turkey for their dinner. There was a lot of  shrugging and "He's Greek " when the misogyny reared, but I've never agreed with that excuse, any more than "Boys will be boys" is an acceptable excuse for any behavior.  You aren't in Greece and your behavior can be unlearned.  The catch is you have to want to unlearn it. I had a ride last week who was lamenting that her bar manager wouldn't promote her to bartender, despite her years of experience, because she's female. It's 2019, dude, really? I shared my story with her and she said "Ya, he's Spanish. Why are they like that?"  Because those who can change the situation are just shrugging and saying "He's Spanish", that's why. This behavior needs to be unlearned, and it continues because it is allowed to do so.
   I was fortunate in my last gig to have a bartender who was not tolerant of any sexual harassment from customers. I watched him physically throw a man out the front door when the guy grabbed my butt. That sort of crap seems to have slowed down as owners learned that they can't keep anyone employed if they allow it, and as women started slapping the hell out of the offenders. Nobody wants to have to do that, and in this climate I suppose you'd get sued for assault. We've managed to get customers to change, but not managers.

  Liars, Cheaters, Runners and Generally Crappy People
   All restaurants struggle with people who make up stories in order to get something for free. From blaming wait staff for poor behavior, to claiming their food was wrong to pulling a dine and dash. I remember when I was younger working in a high end spot that hated all high school dances for that reason. Every dance, they'd have a dine and dash, no matter how closely they watched the table. Unless you can sacrifice a waiter and a busser to follow the kids to the bathroom, you're at risk. This behavior has not changed, and when these people get older, they become more advanced with their schemes. Like ordering an $800 bottle of champagne, and then claiming the waitress got it wrong when the bill arrives.
  There was one late night at my last gig, I had a table of five women out for girls' night. One of the women was rude to me every time I came over and I couldn't figure out what I had done. Her friends watched her behave poorly and said nothing. They were within eye line and earshot of the bar, and received stellar service. At the end of the night, the nasty woman paid and wrote a long diatribe on the back of the credit card receipt, which contained no tip. She said I was rude, I had commented on her clothes and hair and that they waited too long for their drinks. As I said, they were right next to the bar. When I showed the bartender the note, which I took personally and felt attacked over, he shook his head and said "I heard them talking, kryssi. You look like the woman her husband left her for. You were doomed when they walked in."
  "But her friends didn't even try to make it up by leaving cash or even attempting to be kind."
  "Why would they? They're bitches. Nothing you could have done."
  It took him a bit to talk me down, but as I said, they were right next to the bar and he had heard the entire evening unfold. I have to pay my rent. You didn't tip me because your husband left you? How does that help your situation? And shame on your friends, who knew good and damned well what you were doing, for not stepping up or saying something or leaving a $20 under a drink glass. Generally, when the person paying doesn't understand tipping, some functioning soul at the table quietly leaves cash for the server as an apology. Not these women.

    Laundry List
   A drunk guy who throws up in his beer, and thinking no one is watching, drinks it.
   Breakups. Why are you doing this in public? It's worse, not better.
   Rotten kids who cannot manage to behave for ten minutes even at their mom's birthday dinner, and the useless dads who offer no help at all.
   Smarmy guys trying to seduce  and impress a woman with their flashy watches and capped teeth. Both parties at the table are sad to watch. It's like a car accident and you can't take your eyes off of it.
   The sober friend trying to get the obnoxious drunk friend out of  the bar before punches fly or the police arrive. God Bless You, Sober Friend, I hope this is the last time you go out with this loser.
   Wait staff going through medical issues but unable to take the night off because they need the money. Covering for these people is an example of People At Their Best. The fact that they could not call in sick without losing their pay or their job: People At Their Worst. Management needs to be better about this. In my experience, if you can get a gig with people willing to cover for you, hang on to it. People are selfish. When you show your selfish petty pig face, you are at your worst.
   Wait staff sneaking a sandwich to the homeless guy out back.

    There is no need to go on, this is old territory. You got it.

This Is Why I'm Like This: The Best Jobs To Deal With People At Their Worst. Today we are talking about shared ride drivers

  All jobs are a challenge, of course, but jobs that deal with the public are their own unique brand of hell. Not all people are terrible all of the time, but in certain circumstances, you get to see all of the spectrum, from the kind and grateful to the manipulative and accusatory to "What century is this?" Experiences here are from jobs I have worked, but not all the stories are mine. Those that are not have been altered but carry the same moral. Today it is the shared ride driving gig.

Drivers Are Like Bartenders, Priests and Therapists
   Calling a ride after a nasty breakup, sitting in the front seat weeping. We will hold your hand and help you breathe.
   Afraid you may get fired from the job you are going to because of an incident that was not your fault. Chattering away at the driver in the front seat to work through your nerves.
   You've just moved to Denver and still cannot find a job in your field of engineering, and really need the interview to which you are going to work out.
   Apologizing for the eight puppies you are transporting to the vet, who are well behaved and cute as hell, but your car broke down this morning and the vet cannot reschedule and you are so so sorry and do I know a good mechanic who is honest?
   Sitting in the back on a shared ride discussing your new diet, your workout regiment, how the neighborhood has changed and your workout regiment and your diet... then when you disembark, the other pax who was interfacing with his cell phone on a molecular level, suddenly comes to life and starts chatting about the housing market and how the neighborhood  has changed.
  And so on and so on... This is the fun part, listening to everyone's stories.

   The Good
   I'm not a chatterer when I drive, and I am unnerved when a pax (short for "the passenger") sits in the front seat. It's fine if there are three or four humans, but when it is one tiny human who casually sits up front, I feel weird. Gratefully, none of the front riders have done so because they wanted to kill me and steal my innovative and unique Subaru Crosstrek. But they have been chatty. I do prefer those who sit in the back on their cell phone and ignore me. I figured out how to hear the directions and play the radio at the same time, so there is not an awkward silence everyone is trying to combat. These people inevitably want to know if I like driving for the company, and is it my full time job? I was hesitant at first to share any personal info, and I even pulled my old waitress trick of feigning an accent and creating a fictional character. But it felt like lying when the person was in my front seat for ten minutes. So I have acquiesced to telling them I am a teacher, which usually unplugs an array of emotions and memory from the riders who have favorite teachers and wish to commiserate with our pay rate. I realize I am not bitching about how much I make, I'm just driving for the ride company, they're filling in the blanks. These people have all tipped me generously upon drop off. The first time it happened, I actually teared up. She was the tiny human in the front seat who had left her car at her friend's house (I drive this type of pick up a lot) the night before after clubbing. She is an engineer who works at the Fed Center, and makes twice what I do as a teacher at the age of 25. I'm not sure if I cried over the tip or the poor career choice that I have made. I believe these people are good, and would have tipped regardless of my sad career choice. They were kind, appreciative, chatty, and one ride three men were actually stumbling over one another trying to tell their high school teacher stories on the short ride. Their tip matched the ride cost.
    A lot of drivers hate service dogs. First, it's easy to scam a harness online and pretend your chihuahua is a service dog, which by law I have to take. If the thing pees in my car, it's game over for my day, and possibly longer depending on how quickly I can get it cleaned up. My personal experience has been with legit service dogs, and the only issue I've had was with a chihuahua/german shepard mix (right? weird little thing) that shed everywhere. I have a blanket for them so the pax doesn't feel like they have to force the animal to stay on the floor. I enjoy listening to these people, as so far the ones I've had are training their dogs. I learned all about how they sense seizures, cause that one vexes me, and the pax continued kindly and sternly "If a service dog ever comes up to you without its owner, follow it. The owner is in trouble. They're trained to get help."

  The Clueless
   Last summer the question came up in the theatre company where I was teaching regarding kids taking shared rides to and from class and rehearsal. This was a new phenomenon, and the kids were as young as 13. Because it was new, the admin had no idea if they had any say in it, but we agreed that we did not like it as teachers. We had to wait for a ride with the kids, and if it was a shared ride, we got jumpy. It was decided a note would be sent to parents requesting that they cease, as we were unsure of our rights if something happened to a child. Also, you're so busy you can't get your kid to and from rehearsal? You need to re-evaluate your life, but that's another story. As a driver, I have learned you have to be 18 years old to have an account, and it is against policy for anyone not on the account to ride. In other words, if you don't match the picture of "kryssi", I can't pick you up. These, again, are parents trying to get their kids to various events. They mean well, but the policy is clear. It was the best way around a sticky situation I suppose. So far the parents have feigned ignorance that they are breaking policy and there has been no shouting, but I think they know and they're just trying to pull something.
   Asking for phone numbers from your young female driver. Or better, taking a shared ride, which is a money saving move and I don't recommend it AT ALL, and then texting your driver after they drop you and continue to drop off the shared rider "Hey, after you drop him off come back to my place." Because you're a big spender, sure, I'd love to return to your crappy apartment.
  The term "shared ride" inside the umbrella "Shared Ride" is confusing. It means that you agree to pick up another pax en route to your location, and the ride could take longer if they need to be dropped off before you. It's kind of a mess, and frankly not worth the savings. I don't recommend it.
   Downtown has one way streets. Our app tells us which side you are on. We will navigate to you based on the side of the street. If you change sides, we cannot get you without circling the block. And if you move again, we have to circle again. I get that you're drunk, try to log this info in your brain now so you can access it later.

  The Weird
   Sometimes people are just off. Like they sit in the front seat and rummage through your glove box. When asked to stop, they rummage through the door pocket and look under the seat. What has happened in your life, honey?

  The Bad
   Anyone who pukes in your car is considered "bad" in my book, but I get that you are not aware you are going to hurl until you are in a moving vehicle. You've ruined my night, but if you were a decent human being and apologetic, it's just a risk we all take when we drive after 11 pm. You're qualified as "bad" because you cost me time and money, but you were apologetic and tipped well.
  We do not have car seats. Why would we? There is a company designed specifically for schlepping children, and I bet they use drivers with car seats. So it's rude to expect a driver to transport you and your small children without a car seat. It's against the law, you should know that. Therefore, yelling at a driver who has no car seats only sets an example for your children. Congrats. I'm sorry that your brain doesn't fire well enough for you to think ahead and write "need car seats" in the comments, or even, God Forbid, schlep the seats yourself. Your children, your responsibility. I get that it's frustrating as hell to get kids around if your car is in the shop, but I can't help you.
   Red Rocks. Ugh. Getting pax to the concert is fine, but they cannot seem to manage shared rides for return, as they shut off all the access roads. Pax have to walk to Morrison to get a ride. That's messed up. Although I did learn that when dropping someone off-we have to use the lower lot- if the pax rolls down the window and claims to be handicapped, they'll let you drop them at the top. No proof necessary. HA! I think you can park up there, maybe,and just wait for the end of the concert, I think some drivers are doing that, but there's limited space. Now they seem to be aware of the issue and I see there is a cue, like at the airport, near Red Rocks. But once those are taken, really, you're walking to Morrison for a ride home.
 
  Worse
   What about the fact that it is my car, my own personal property that I am using to make a living, and therefore I have the right to refuse a ride or kick anyone out for any reason are you not getting? Now, I need to make money, so I'm not going to kick you out because I don't like the way you look. But I can if I feel uncomfortable, or if you truly reek of pot and BO to the point that I think my upholstery won't recover, or you keep changing your drop off point. I don't have to pick you up if you don't match the picture, as there is a scam out there now with people stealing rides...sigh. If there's a business intended to help people, there are people who will find a way to exploit it.
   "Worse": hurling in the car, is when you are obnoxious, and then you throw up all over yourself and the car and the floor and the door and the closed window, and then demand to end the ride. Then upon leaving the car, from the opposite door because you don't want to be near your own mess, you look at your driver and say "It's not that bad." You've just ended that driver's night, they have to go off line and clean out their car. Some of these people are career drivers, this kind of an incident on a high volume weekend night, can set them back over $200 in expected pay. And then you get bent when the company charges your account for the cleaning. Your driver is not the one who is wrong in this scenario, you are. And you have gone from "bad" to "worse" because you were rude.
   Calling for a ride from a remote location, like the middle of the woods, and then not meeting the driver in the nearby parking lot. Then texting them after they leave demanding to know why they left. We Don't Come Looking For You. Ever. You come to us, sweetie. I will be damned if I'm getting out of my car on the outskirts of Evergreen at 11 pm to wander the woods calling your name.
   Drunk frat boys who scream in your car and spit when they talk.
   Men who think it's OK to talk about objectifying women (I am being kind with my phrasing) in your car, and then call you a bitch when you kick them out. My car, Ass Gnome, my rules, my rights. And I will write a report, because the company supports me. So There.
   Scamming. I'm not sure how this is happening, but somehow people are getting into the car who are not the scheduled pax. They get a ride for a few blocks before the driver figures it out---usually they try to change their destination verbally, that's a good sign. They have to change it on the app. If you can't, it's because you are not the scheduled passenger. I also heard that there was a debit card scam of some kind, but I can't muster any sympathy for a driver who gives their pax their personal debit card number. That one can't be real, can it?

  And there you have the first installment of The Best Jobs To Deal With People At Their Worst. Tune in next time for "Restaurant Work".