College Applications and Real World Advice

It's been a crazy few weeks.  I've added a couple more jobs to my roster... they will be excluded from my resume, however.  Smart girls like to learn - this girl would rather gain knowledge WHILE I'm getting paid.  I was tired all day.  I spent the day catching up on real life stuff.  Scheduling car repair appointments, working on My Olive Press stuff, responding to email from 2 weeks ago, walking Whiskey, going to the gym, Target and the Chiropractor AND.... drying my hair.  Big day of regular stuff over here.  I told myself I'd drive in the afternoon - for evening commute.  I had the app running while at my desk.  The alert comes in, I grab my keys and head out the door.

The address is a range of addresses - which annoys me.  I drive to where the passenger is pinned to find him and girl laying in the grass on a corner lot.

They're young - I think maybe college age, but just look young.  He opens the door for her and tells her "Ladies first."  I smile, knowing that his parents are clearly good examples for the chivalry that is so charming on a man (a man of any age).

He tells me I'm his first female driver.  And talks about a story he was listening to on NPR.

"Smart kid," I think to myself.

He and his lady friend are talking about school.  Applying to colleges.  The valedictorian.  And the Salutatorian who they don't believe should have gotten it.  I remember these roles being something dictated by grade point average...

They talk about who's applying to which schools and how one person has applied to Harvard as her "safe school."

Their conversation naturally comes to a stop.  He asks, so Anna, if you could give us any advice to making it on our own, what would it be?

I smile at his question.  So much maturity and curiosity rolled into a question.  I know his question was asked in the most authentic manner and was to seek knowledge and input - and not merely to make small talk with the woman driving them home.  I think quickly about what I wished someone had told me as I was a month or two in to my senior year of high school.  I briefly note exactly how many years ago that actually was.

My replies:

• Take out all of the student loans that are presented to you.  Don't think you can get by with less and work more.  You have your whole life to work.  Enjoy school.  But don't be stupid with that money.  I tell them about a friend of mine who'd invested the portion he didn't need for his semester.  I tell them that's the cheapest loan that they'll ever get.  Most people have them, so it's nothing to be ashamed of.  
• Enjoy school.  The real world arrives quicker than you'd like.  Relish the time you have in school.  Meet new people.  Have an open mind.  Try new things.  I tell them about how a friend in college told me I could have had a better GPA if I stayed in studio longer and worked harder.  I briefly told that friend, I wouldn't change anything about my college experience.  I met new people.  I went to parties.  I went to sporting events.  I wouldn't undo any of that for a higher GPA.
• Speaking of GPAs, no one cares in the real world.  Not once has an employer ever asked me what my graduating GPA was from The University of Michigan.  Not.A.One.  
• Wear sunscreen.  Wear moisturizer.
• If you're going to drink, be responsible.  Remember to drink water.  Be safe.  

They both interject here and there in response to my comments.  And he tells me, "there's something to be said to really following what you're passionate about even if it's not what you studied."  I smile knowing that he just gave me exactly the advice I needed to hear.  

I dropped them off, wished them well and returned home to keep working on all of the things that have nothing to do with my education, but everything to do with what I'm passionate about.  

Lessons Learned:

1. While they might be young, if you listen closely, their wisdom can incredibly spot-on and heartwarming.
2. People choose Harvard as safe school.  I chose Michigan on a long shot... and I somehow got in... and I'm forever grateful to whomever misplaced my application in the "admitted" pile.  

Now... What would YOU have said in response to the same question?

East Lansing Cowboy.

It started as a pretty boring ride.  I'd told him about the blog while we were en route to pick up his work colleague.  He told me he'd probably not be able to contribute any shenanigans or humor to my stories - I then turned around to see him in a Party City-esque cowboy hat.  I wondered how he could NOT be entertaining with that hat on.  We arrive to pick up his work colleague, upon getting situated in the car, he relayed the message letting her know about the blog and how they should be on their best behavior.

They chat quietly in the backseat while I bask in the awesomeness of my new favorite radio station.

I can surmise from their conversation they're in the entertainment industry - he's probably in production role.  He makes a point to tell her that he "used to have to do that... back when he was a young free-lancer."  I missed what he had to do back then but decide that based on his looks he's not that far removed from being young or freelancing.  I lived in LA and have made acquaintances with more than a few people in the industry, and I'm well aware that it's a cut throat industry, based on equal parts who you know and luck.  He seems fairly articulate, so I decide it's probably the former.

While the two seemed to be working on the same project in Arizona, they obviously didn't travel together.  They were staying at different resorts and traveling on different airlines.  Much to their displeasure, these airlines operated out of separate terminals.  Sadly they wouldn't be able to share a drink before they boarded.

The conversation changes to driving.  He tells her he's made the cross country drive a few times.  Once from New York to LA.  Another time from Florida.  And a few times from Michigan.  I ask if that's where he's from.

Him:  Yea.

Me:  Right on.  I'm from Michigan too.

Him:  What part?

Me:  Holland.  Westside.  On Lake Michigan.

Him:  Ah, cool.  Go Hope College.

Me:  Yea, that's where a lot of my graduating class went.  I actually went to Michigan.

Silence.

Him:  I went to Michigan State.

After briefly contemplating my response... I know most Spartans think Wolverines have the same distaste for them, as they do us.  But, the reality is, it's the Buckeyes that are our rival.  Michigan State is an incredible school in my home state.  I have nothing but respect for the credibility of the school, their academic programs and their athletics.  Let's face it, I've done my fair share of rooting for the other Michigan school when my team wasn't in the tournament.  So I just reply with, "Right on, good for you."

I'm instructed to drop her off first since her flight departs slightly earlier.

Upon her departure from the car, I can tell he has something to say.

Him:  No disrespect, but if you have a degree in architecture from The University of Michigan, why are you driving for Uber?  I feel like you're wasting your education and your intelligence.

I'm immediately annoyed.  He doesn't know me.  He has no idea what the circumstances are to my life that have brought me to this moment, of him in my backseat and me cheerfully picking him up and taking him to the airport.  He has no idea that the last job that I "used my education and my intelligence" left me popping Xanax to make it through the day.  He has no idea that I'm using this job with Uber to allow myself the freedom and flexibility to pursue and build something from scratch.  He has no idea of all of the other things I've done and still do.  He's judging me, and what I'm doing on a Sunday afternoon based on nothing of substance.  I take a deep breath, knowing my response to his ignorant and incredibly arrogant comment is crucial.

Me:  Well, it might seem that way, sure.  This allows me the time I need to build the start-up I began last year and do some real estate development consulting and sales on the side.  Believe me, I've had these "big girl" jobs you're thinking I should have, but I decided, I'd rather be poor and happy than have a fat paycheck and be medicated.  I'd rather spend my time on that and with whom brings me joy.

We're finally to Terminal 4.  I'm glad I get to say goodbye to him.  I'm insulted and angry.  I wish I could tell him that my intelligence wasn't wasted when I just made $89 his 20 minute trip.

By the time I get home that afternoon, I feel empowered.  His arrogance and snap judgement comment have lit another fire in me to keep on this path.  While it's a hustle, and it's stressful at times, I'd rather be building my dreams, then someone else's.

Lessons Learned:

1. You really have no idea where someone is in their life, or their journey.  Be careful the judgement you throw their way.  
2. Ask questions, assume nothing.
3. If you start a sentence with anything resembling, "Don't take this the wrong way" or "No disrespect but..." or the like, know that you're doing EXACTLY what you're pretending is not your intention.  
4. Be kind to your fellow Michiganders.  Or Californians, etc.  
5. Take encounters like this and turn them into positives.  Keep chasing your dreams.  Keep writing your story  Take pride in your story - it'll only make sense to you and it needn't make sense to anyone else. 

Spelling Lessons

It was a Friday evening.  I was sitting at home, waiting for the beeping phone to tell me that there was a passenger nearby awaiting a chariot to come fetch them.  It beeps.  I accept.  And then the map comes up showing me where this person is.  15 minutes away on the west-side of town.  I groan and walk to my car.

I'm halfway down my block when the phone rings.  "Uber Passenger" is calling.  I answer and he tells me he's just south of me, about 5 minutes.  "Hmmm, that's odd, why'd you pin yourself what out there then," I ask.  

Man:  I've never used this.  I'm at the Vine.  Get me here.  I need to know what it'll cost to go to the North Side of town.

I let the guy know there's a way to estimate the fare before you request, so I'm not sure -- I really have no way of knowing what the fare will be, it's based on location, distance and time.  

I pull up to the curb and shoot him a text that I'm out front.  I wait.  

Suddenly there's a large, older gentleman (I'd say late 60s.) POUNDING on my car window like a crazed maniac.  Keep in mind it's dark and this scared the shit right out of me.  I unlock the door.  He gets in the car and in a big booming voice shouts, "I need to know how much it's going to cost to get to the North Side!!  I'm not taking this if it's going to be $100."  I take a deep breath and say, "let me catch my breath, you just scared me."  I pull out my phone and show the man how to calculate an estimate of the fare.  Between $42 and $56 it tells us.  

Man:  Alright, let's go!  

Me:  Alright, you've got it.  

We're about a minute into the ride and he tells me he's going up there to meet this lady he met on "Plenty of Fish."  "She's really sweet", he tells me, "But her friends will be there, and I'm to sure I want to meet people this late at night, especially after I've been drinking."

Man:  Do I sound drunk?  

Before I get a chance to answer, he starts clicking away on his iPhone, frantically composing a text -- likely to his lady friend.  

Man:  How do you spell "sensuous"?

I gag in my mouth as I briefly try to figure out the context he's using this word in to this "really sweet lady".  And spell it.  And immediately get grossed out and don't want to continue the ride for one second longer.  Sadly, I still have about 30 more miles in the darkness of the night and desert to have this guy in my car.  

Lessons Learned:

1. Carry mace.  Or a tazer.  People are weird.  

Lessons I wish He'd Learn:

1. If you have to ask if you sound drunk, you are.
2.  Don't ask anyone how to spell sexual sounding words.  You have an iPhone in your hand.  It's a powerful tool.  Use it.  

#perspective

While many of my interactions are funny and worthy of storytelling, there are a few that just hit me in a different way.  This last week has been particularly tough on me, as I struggle through the perils of going against the grain in an attempt to pave my own trail.  I've been hustling like a mad woman to the point where I wonder if I'm making forward progress.  I've questioned my decision to live this sort of alternative lifestyle as I go from one job to the next ... to the next.  I'm tired.  I miss my dog.  I miss the gym and my running shoes.  I miss having fun.  The Universe is always perfect in how to sends you messages and people right when you need it.

I had a conversation via text with a distant friend.  (Distant in that we don't really talk all that much but keep tabs on one another's lives via social media.) His advice to my current predicament, "Don't find a "job"!!  Just keep doing what you're doing.  You'll find crazy amounts of success soon." Sometimes it's a perfectly time call or note from a friend that pushes you in the direction you need to go.  Sometimes it's an actual encounter which makes you stop for a minute and be truly thankful for what you DO have and who you've got backing you on your journey through life.

This week two of my passengers were blind.  One of them, a guy about my age, hasn't seen much more than a shadow his whole life.  On that drive, I began seeing things in the desert through a different lens...and appreciated what beauty there is here, instead of hating the fact that everything is a shade of brown.

Yesterday, while driving another visually impaired passenger, she asked me to stop by KFC.  She wanted to surprise her husband with fried chicken.  (Note:  I will never, ever surprise anyone with KFC, but I thought it was a sweet gesture on her part.)  We pull up to the drive-thru and there is a car in front of us, not quite to the speaker box.  I made a comment to which my passenger said, "Well maybe they're just reading the menu before they pull up."  I make a mental note to try to control my impatience, because she's probably right on this one.

We continue to sit behind the car.  I look up and notice the persons reverse lights are on and the windshield wipers are going.  There's an elderly woman in the car.  I wait for a couple more minutes thinking maybe it's a rental and she's not sure which gear she's in.  Soon it's clear that she's having issues.  I get out of the car and go up to her car.

Me:  Everything ok?  Do you need help?

Elderly Woman:  Yea, I think there's a problem with my car.

Me (thinking maybe she stalled it out somehow):  Maybe put the car in park and turn off the ignition and restart it.  That seems to help sometimes.

She complies.  It starts and she thanks me.  I smile and return back to my car.

A second later, wipers are going again, reverse lights on, then of.  I get back out of my car and again ask her if she needs anything.  She's visibly embarrassed and almost looks scared.  She apologizes and tells me she's not sure what she's doing wrong and could I try.  I get in her car, put it into drive and scoot ahead a bit.

Elderly Woman:  Hmm... I'm so sorry.

Me:  It's really ok.  Why don't you get in and try again.  (By now, I'm concerned, and think I should probably ask her if I can park her car and just take her where she needs to go.  But there's a passenger in my car and I feel frozen.)

She gets back in her car.  I remind her to put her foot on the brake and to pull the shifter down to the "D".  She pulls at the emergency break.  "No, not that one, that's a brake.  It's the taller one.  Pull it all the way to where it shows the "D" on the side."

She cruises ahead.  I get back into my car.  Feeling sad for her and terrified.  This woman all alone, is just trying to get some KFC and I'm scared she's going to hurt herself or someone else along the way. As she exited the drive-thru lane we hear someone lay on their horn.  I'm certain this blaring horn is directed toward this elderly woman.

My passenger comments how, someone should take away her keys.  I reply back, "what if she doesn't have anyone to take away her keys?  What if she's widowed?  Doesn't have children or family here?  What if she's alone and she's just trying to have some chicken?"  I regret letting her leave and I wonder if was supposed to be me who cared enough about her and her safety to take away her keys and drop her off at her destination.

Lessons Learned:

1. If all of your five senses are functioning, you're better off than a lot of people.  Be grateful for that and be empathetic to those who's senses are diminished or not functioning at all.  
2. Be patient and help when you can.
3. Check in on your grandparents, elderly neighbors, etc - they could be alone in this world and your smile may just brighten their day.
4. This too shall pass.
5. People still eat KFC.

Cheaters.

Earlier this week, I was off near the mountain in the early morning.  Totally hit or miss up here - hit only if someone is leaving one of the resorts.  I'm not the most patient of people, so I usually miss out and head back to town.  That day was different.

It was about 8:20am that the ride request came in - for the resort right across the street from the one I'd just dropped off at.  Score!  In the land of ride-share (and probably taxis), this is like winning the jackpot - to not have to drive too far for your next pickup AND to not have to wait around in between.  Time is money, y'all... time. is. money!!

I head over the other resort to pick up Tom.  I sent him a text to let him know I was pulling in, and would meet him near the valet area.  Tom arrives two minutes later dressed in business attire and coffee in hand and I'm immediately jealous he didn't ask me if I wanted a latte, because I do.

Tom:  Ok, we're gonna have to go get the bags.

Me:  Oh, sorry, I could have met you at the casita where you're staying.  Usually valet is just where everyone meets me.

Tom:  No worries, she's still getting ready.

We pull up, he hops out and runs up the exterior stairs and returns with a suitcase and a briefcase.  I ask him if there's more, and if he needs help.  He doesn't.  He returns with another suitcase. And stands at the car door and proclaims, "Here comes the queen," in a rather sarcastic tone.

I think to sarcastic self, "trouble in paradise... but at least he's got a coffee."  A bleach blond woman emerges, with so many things teetering from her grasp.  Hair brush, curling iron, Louie Vuitton bag, the usual, ya know?

I confirm the destination and crank the ac per Tom's request (apparently, Tom is HOT) and head to the other side of the mountain.

Most people who ride with me, are chatty, though some are not and you can tell right away which side of the fence they fall on). Particularly with business dressed folks... they're on the phone, checking email or confirming the days agenda with their fellow passengers.  Almost never are they silent though.  Tom and his lady friend were being incredibly quiet.  Very intentionally, incredibly quiet.  Whispering.

Now, unless you're discussing pending patents, attorney-clinet privileged information or the like, let's assume your secret is safe with me.  (Notwithstanding, changing your name and some of the relevant details to chronicle in this blog, however).

Lady with the LV:  Is there a Starbucks or a convenience store on the way?

Me (immediately finding this odd since Tom was already carrying a beautiful white cup with green lettering.  Maybe Tom was selfish and forgot to get the Lady with the LV a coffee?):  Um, yea, well, I'm sure we'll pass SOMEthing on the way.

LwtLV:  Ok, he needs to get dropped off somewhere.

Tom and LwtLV continue whispering.

Tom:  Hey, how long do you think it'll take to get there?

Me:  About 20 minutes I'd guess.  It's tough to tell with morning commutes, since we'll be on mostly side streets.

about 15 minutes pass

Tom:  Hey, can you drop me off at the Comfort Suites up here on the right?

I thought this was odd, since I picked up at a swank Marriott, and the destination was another swank Marriott on the other side of town.  "Sure," I said,  pointing, "this one right here?"

As I'm pulling in, the LwtLV is on the phone:
"No, we're pulling in right now.  No, it's a gentleman named Sam that you're picking up.  He's got a purple dress shirt on.  Yup, we're here right now."

I help "Sam" get his suitcase and briefcase and get back in the car.  As I'm pulling the car into drive, I look to my right to see Sam, take his pointer finger up to his lips, kiss it, and turn it toward LwtLV.

I immediately see what's happening and feel suuuuuuper uncomfortable.  That wasn't Tom after all, that was Sam.  And LwtLV used Tom's uber account to drop Sam, her Valley lover off at a hotel, in between the one she and Sam stayed at and the one she was going to a work conference at.  I confirm my suspicions when I drop LwtLV off at her destination - wedding ring.

Lessons Learned:

1. People will go to get lengths to be dishonest, if something doesn't seem right, it probably isn't.  Trust your gut.
2. You needn't be smart or particularly attractive to juggle a spouse and a lover - you only need to be willing.  
3. All of this makes me rather sad, and not particularly optimistic of relationships.  I know this isn't the norm (at least I hope it's not) but it's a disappointing display nonetheless.  

Lessons (I wish they'd) Learned:

1. If you're done, be done.  There are some really cool, single people out there (ahem) - please only occupy your pro-rata share of available partners.
2. Uber sends a very detailed receipt of pick-up and drop-off locations, travel time and route traveled, along with time stamps.  Probably best not to use your husbands account, to drop off your lover, and then order him another ride with the same account.  

Just Another Manic Monday...

Since I'm trapped in the house this morning - you know, due to severe flooding in the desert - I figured I'd share my favorite Monday morning story.

This particular morning, I'd set my alarm for earlier than I actually cared to get up, get dressed and get to driving.  I snoozed.  I snoozed again.  And... I snoozed again.  Finally, I was up, ready and online by about 8am.  My first call sent me downtown to retrieve a businessman from a hotel and take him to the airport.  After dropping off the unmemorable man at the airport, I decided to avoid the morning commute traffic and take the side streets back into downtown.  As I was exiting the freeway, I got a ride request from Fernando.

I accept, seeing it's only a few minutes away.  "Back toward the airport, but not quite the airport," I thought, as I looked at where the pin was dropped.  I hit the navigate button and began my 7 minute journey.

"Dodgey part of town," I thought as I approached the pin.  I wondered where I was picking this Fernando fella up - I mean, I did once pick up a guy at the Jack-In-The-Box over this way.  Nothing is out of the realm of possibility, people.  When you need a ride, you need a ride... and some cool chic like me (if you're lucky) will come pick you up.  As I'm waiting at the light, I hear a ding!  (Cue the universal sound for a text message).

Before I get too far, let me tell you that each ride share driver has a phone number associated with them - this phone number isn't actually theirs... it's a reverse number.  So your driver sees the same number as you would coming across their phone.  This protects the innocent, and those who wish not to be bothered by the other party once their business transaction is complete.  More on this later...

Anyway...

This is what pops up on my screen.

Upon reading this text message, time stamped 8:23am on a Monday, I take a screen shot and send it to at least 4 friends - "Wondering how MY monday morning is going?  Well this just happened..."

Then, I say aloud only for myself to hear:

• Gross.
• Really?
• Why?
• Is this real life?

I look up and see that the said "Adult Bookstore" is straight ahead on the left.  I'm intrigued by who might get into my car.  And I immediately regret not having antibacterial wipes on hand.  

I wait.  

I send Fernando a text.  "Hi.  This is Anna your uberx driver. I'm here."  Followed by, "in front of the Adult Bookstore."  I chuckle to myself, knowing the second text was solely for my personal humor.  

After about 5 minutes, Fernando finally appears, wearing basketball shorts and a black wife beater.  I've never been a patron to one of these adult bookstores, so I can only assume they're less classy than an actual strip club, and don't have the "dress code is strictly enforced" sign hanging near the bouncer.  Hell, maybe it's actually a bookstore?  Maybe there's a market for these types of books?  Maybe to get the best books you wake up very early on Monday so you're one of the first ones there when they open?  Wait, when did this place even open?

With all that is in me, I want to blast off a million questions.  But I casually say, "Good morning, I presume your Monday is off to a good start?"  I laugh to myself.  My humor is totally lost of Fernando, which is good.  He starts barking directions out to me.  Clearly dude needs to get home.  And quick.

I drop him off at the exact opposite location of where I picked him up from -- right in front of a church.    Maybe that's where he'll read his new books?  

Lessons Learned:

1. Everyone needs love and/or entertainment where love might not be an option.
2. The dress codes at adult bookstores are pretty flexible.  I'm sure you're fine in exactly what you have on.  
3. A good amount of sanitizer and antibacterial wipes never hurt anyone.  

Hot-Mess 9.76

I think about process a lot – efficiency.  I tend to arrange my errands, so they are in one clear route, with no back tracking and all right turns if possible.  I mean, we all know right turns are way more efficient when it comes to time, right?  My time as a ride-share driver, is no different.  Time is money and we should aim to be efficient.  I have a strategy around when I drive for a few reasons:

1.   I have a low tolerance for drunk people when I’m not one of them.
2. I have no desire to ever have to clean up someone else’s vomit in my car,  nor do I feel like         being arrested for assault on the jackass who vomits in MY car. 
3. I’m not trying to compromise my safety.  Nothing good happens after 11pm, y'all. 

However, most drivers will tell you that the best time to get a lot of fares is at night, when people are drinking.  I say… while you might be getting more fares, your risk of dealing with obnoxious, puking, directionally challenged, inebriated passengers is higher.  And it's a risk I'm not willing to deal with, so on the weekends, I drive in the early morning – the early morning rides tend to entertain me more.  I like the feeling of knowing that girl proudly wearing last nights makeup is making it home safely because of me.  I might not be able to do much about the look of regret in her eyes, but damnit, I’m helping her out!

A few months back, when I discovered the entertaining value of the early morning driving – I got a pick up request.  I’d say it was probably around 7am on a Sunday and was from a guy named Marcus.  I pull up to the address given and there’s a guy and girl standing in the driveway.  The girl has a tiny skirt on and heels – I’m guessing she’s not going to an early morning church service dressed like that.  They hug.  The girl gets in the car – on the “hot mess” scale, she was at about a 9.76. 

Me:  (as chipper as I can exclaim it…, people with hangovers either love or hate this, but their response tells me how I get to interact with them for the remainder of the ride) Goooood Morning!  Where we off to?

Hot-Mess 9.76 (since it was requested by Marcus, I have no idea what her name is):  Um, The Valley Hotel.

Me:  Alright, cool.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  Wait, um… are you like… um… a cab driver? 

Me:  Sort of.  I’m an Uber driver, it’s a ride share app.  This is my car.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  So I can give you cash?

Me:  No, it’s all on the app.  I start the trip.  I get you to your destination and then I end the trip. 

Hot-Mess 9.76:  So I can’t give you cash?

Me:  No, it’s all attached to Marcus’ account.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  Ok, can you transfer it to me?  I don’t have that app, but I’ll download it really quick.

Me:  Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.  I mean, you can certainly download it to use later, but this trip is attached to Marcus’ account.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  So, you can’t transfer it to me?  How am I supposed to pay you?

Me (getting frustrated with her inability to understand that this ride is on Marcus):  It’s attached to Marcus’ account and his credit card.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  Wait, who’s Marcus?

Me (reveling in how classic the previous reply was): Pretty safe to say that Marcus was that guy in the driveway you just hugged goodbye.

Hot-Mess 9.76  (obviously feeling like a bit of a hussy):  Oh, hahaha.  Wait!!!  HE’S paying for this?!  Sweeeeeeeet!

Clearly this girl hasn’t come across any gentlemen in the past and needs to be excited.  Her excitement quickly turns to greed, however.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  So cool.  Can you tip yourself on his account too?

Me:  Yea, it seems like Marcus is a real gent, huh?  No, sadly, I can’t add tips to his account.  I can, however, accept cash tips.

Hot-Mess 9.76:  Crap, I don’t have any cash. 

I drop hot-mess 9.76 off at the Hotel Valley – as she stumbles to her car, I shake my head.  One because I know I’ve been there, we’ve all been there.  Two because I realize that my car has now taken on the smell of last nights vodka which she was obviously sweating out – she probably should have hung out with Marcus a little longer before she decided to operate a motor vehicle. 

Lessons learned: 

1.  While remembering names might not be your thing, practice.  You never know when you might run into Marcus again and need to thank him for his kindness. 

2.  You’re not fooling anyone with that short skirt, heels and mascara smear on your face.  We all know what you were doing last night.  And this morning.  

We're Going to the Other Side of Town

It was the Sunday evening closing out a holiday weekend.  I’d been driving for most of the morning – on and off, of course.  Like with most things in my life, I get bored of things if I do them for too long in one sitting.  I was on the cusp of calling it a day, but there was a concert to be had… on the opposite side of town.  Now, when I say, “opposite side of town” I need you to read “traffic,” “miles,” and “time.”  The fares that ride share companies give their independent contractors are directly proportional to all of these, less their cut and other fees they charge the drivers, and of course gas, insurance, maintenance…blah, blah, blah.  So other side of town is essentially money to be had.  All day I was hoping that I could get at least ONE ride to the opposite of town for this concert.  Subsequent to that, I was also rather intrigued by what crowd this particular artist would attract – I was also a bit befuddled by how someone I’d seen on a patio at a bar in Austin a couple of years ago, was playing in the same arena as Justin Timberlake and Pearl Jam.  It didn’t compute and damnit, I was gonna get to the bottom of this. 

5:37: Alert for a ride request comes in.  I take it.  And cross my fingers whilst driving it’s someone who’s super stoked for this show and wants to get there really early.

5:41:  I arrive at the pick-up location.  Within a minute a muscular man walks out, drink in hand, barefoot.  “Definitely not going to that concert,” I think to myself.  Immediately, I want to tell him this is not 7/11 and you may not be barefoot in my nearly new car.  He lets me know his friend is going to the bathroom and will be out in a minute.

5:42:  Friend emerges from the house.  He’s wearing one of those Polo shirts that makes me want to put on a straight face and in all seriousness ask him, “Hey!  Is that a Polo shirt?  I thought it looked like one, but I couldn’t tell!”  Don’t worry, I held my sarcasm.  Mike approaches the passenger side door, also carrying a drink – but he at least has shoes on.  The conversation goes something like this:

Mike:  Um, so Anna… um… I have this sorta weird thing that’s happening.  Are you in a hurry?

I immediately think the dude has the diarrhea and wonder why he’s being honest with me about something so personal.  I keep listening.

Mike:  So, yea.  I’m gonna need a few more minutes.  I need a drink.  So I met this girl at this strip club a few days ago.  We’re gonna go pick her up "Light It Up" (popular strip club with an amazing buffet, I've heard... here in town).  And then we’re gonna go to the other side of town to this concert. 

Thinking to myself, “Ching, ching, ching!!  Money, money, money!!” and “Hmm… not really the type I’d peg to be someone to go to THIS concert.  Oh well.” 

Then it dawns on me what he said. 

Me:  Ok, so let me get this straight… You’re gonna go have another drink, I’m gonna sit here, and then we’re gonna go pick up a stripper who you’ve recently met, and then I’m gonna take you to the other side of town?

Mike:  I don’t think she’s a stripper.  I mean, that would be bad if she were a stripper, right?

Me:  Wait, you don’t know her?  Are you on Tinder or Snapchat or something?  She’s at the strip club, right now, right?  And you met her at the strip club a few nights ago?  Mike, she’s totally a stripper.  And yes, I’ll wait here while you have another drink because I am NOT missing this for the 

world.

About 5 minutes go by.  Mike gets in the car.  He tells me about his recent “messy” divorce and custody battle.  About how his granddad died earlier in the year AND how his mother committed suicide too.  He told me it was the worst year in his life.  I felt bad for him.  He seemed like a good guy – I suddenly stopped judging his stripper picking up shenanigans and felt empathetic for what he must be feeling inside.  Then he texted the stripper.

Mike:  She said she’s changing.  Let’s park at the back of the parking lot and wait there for her.

Me:  Changing?  Seriously, Mike?!  We’re picking up a stripper.  Who you don’t know.  And who you don’t remember what she looks like.  I have a really bad feeling about this.  Remember, I’m the sober one.  What if she’s actually an escort too?  And after she escorts you to this concert, some big dude bounces out waiting for his cut of the deal?  What if you don’t have the money and you wake up in a bathtub filled with ice and no kidneys?  Seriously Mike… just go get the big dude in that driveway I picked you up from, tell him to put shoes on and take bring him to the show.

Mike just laughed at me.  And we kept chatting about life.  We actually had a lot in common we realized… as we sat there waiting for a maybe Asian, maybe Mexican stripper to change and come to the car.  She finally emerged.  With a VERY large man in a suit, following her and carrying her bag.  I looked at Mike and said, “Well, there you go… she’s making sure you know this is a business transaction.”

After the big dude put the stripper's belongings in the car, Mike and the stripper had an obligatory, slightly awkward hug… they hopped in the backseat.  There wasn’t a whole lot of great conversation coming from the backseat on the journey to the stripper’s house, so I thought I’d ask about how business was going.  Mike asked about her “exit plan” – she didn’t understand.   We got to the strippers house for her to drop her bag off.  I turned around and looked Mike in the eye.

Me:  Dude, we can just leave.  Say the word. 

Mike:  I mean, that’s mean right?  I’ll just go to the concert and tell her I’ll drop her back off at home or the club on my way back to my friends.  That’s cool, right?

Me:  Cool if she’s a regular chic who didn’t get escorted from the strip club to the car by a large man.  A large man who probably gets a cut of her earnings. 

Mike: Shit. 

Stripper emerges again, gets in the car and is suddenly SO excited about this concert.  If Mr. Polo didn’t strike me as this artist’s fan base, the stripper is the opposite of his fan base.  She googled him, which to her credit I think is a smart move, you know… so you know who you’re seeing. 

We arrive to the venue.  I tell them to have fun.  And to give me a shout if they need anything.  Mike turns back and flashes me an “Oh, god, wtf am I doing” forced smile.  I shake my head, wave and head back to the other side of town.

Lessons learned: 

1.  Always discuss the terms of business transaction prior to work commencing.

2.  If it looks like a duck, talks like a duck and walks like a duck – It’s probably a duck.
3.  Strippers make a lot of money.  Currently more than this University of Michigan Grad is making - and I didn't get to go see Ed Sheeren play in a way too big area for Ed Sheeren to be playing in.

Oh hey, is that a Polo shirt?

About Me and This Blog (The Short Version)

About a year ago, I was working at a job I hated and made me physically ill - I’d start my day with a coffee and a xanax, knowing I’d probably need one or the other to get me through the day.  That job was like the boyfriend I knew I’d end it with eventually, but was good enough until the next good thing came along.  In an unexpected turn of events, I was laid off / broken up with, before I could pull the trigger myself.   I was hurt, felt betrayed and was angry.  I decided to leave a city I love, Austin, to move to a city I didn’t really know anything about but was closer to where I’d consider one of my “homes,” LA’s South Bay, I landed in Phoenix.  I vowed to “never work for the man again” and started an e-commerce retail shop (www.myolivepress.com) with a couple of my friends.  Despite my passion to grow this venture and my ability to succeed, the bills needed to be paid, unemployment had run dry and we were no where close to turning a profit big enough to support my monthly expenses.  I’m decidedly a lot like Jay-Z, “I’m a hustla, baby” – I’d made up my mind, and working for the man I would not.  I knew I’d figure it out; I always had in the past.  I threw a wide net and made money anyway I could – keep in mind, I have some limitations on that, folks.  Sometime back in March I started driving for a “ride-share” company in my spare time to make some extra cash.  It was flexible, the money was easy and it was fun.  Every day I drove strangers around, I laughed, I shook my head in disbelief and I told myself I needed to start documenting these encounters.  Six months later, after a ride inspirational enough to document…here we go.   You’re welcome in advance for the life lessons learned in my Ford Edge Limited; I know you’ll find these as valuable as I have.

Note:  Names, times, locations and relevant details may or may not have been changed.