If anyone doesn't know, poverty makes people crazy, altering behavior and actions. I say this because its clear many don't understand this obvious connection between cultural messaging and resultant behavior but immersed as I am daily in our prevalent, actionable society, not only do I see it, I am personally affected. Case in point was a call this week to a decrepit apartment complex located in the 6600 block of Corson Avenue South. Simply by talking on the telephone, I expected trouble due to not being told the exact location of their apartment, the complex a ramshackle, somewhat sprawling collection of broken down units masquerading as something other than prison cells. They needed to put some items in the trunk, with the husband/boyfriend sarcastic when I didn't acknowledge the box contained a flat screen TV they were returning to the Renton Walmart.
Turning right out of the driveway, making my logical way to southbound I-5, the gentleman said I was going the wrong way, implying I was instantaneously cheating them. Giving them one opportunity to calm down and continue, he refused to relent, prompting me to take them back to where we had started. Raising the volume, the accusations grew, knowing minus any doubt I was a thief. Beyond saying "What did you want to pay?" truly not caring one way or the other the route taken, chiefly interested in taxi efficiency and little else.
I present this only to say, poverty is alienating, affecting all who encounter it. Did I want to hurt this couple on any level in any manner whatsoever? No, not at all, only wanting to get them quickly from point A to B as a relative was waiting for me at Harborview Hospital after an earlier day surgery. But the husband knew, having been repeatedly kicked, that I was just another someone, anyone out to do him harm. How could there be any argument?
Too Many Drunks Upon A Post-Seahawk Defeat Sunday
Were the fans drowning their sorrows, their gridiron heroes having lost their playoff game earlier in the day? Perhaps they were, encountering three in a row while snow fell, the second drunk literally carried to my cab from Olaf's Tavern in Ballard, attempting to give me their over-served problem as I quickly drove off, leaving them to it, whatever they wanted to do or not with their inebriated buddy.
Just prior to him I spent a good 45 minutes with a staggering drunk who couldn't remember her debit card pin code. Why did I allow her into the cab? More than once, when sane and sober, I have given her rides from Ballard to a favorite Capital Hill restaurant. Tonight she was drunk and leaving a casino, clearly tragedy taking hold. Yes, she was trouble but had earned credit which I cashed in, even assisting her to the door, doing what I can when reason and commonsense calls for an extra dose of empathy---vital oxygen to the momentarily afflicted.
Hey Stupid! Dial 511 or listen to KOMO radio every 4 on the hour
Saturday, dispatch was asking for a cab with chains after a cabbie dolt loaded up a Hopelink fare to Yakima utterly oblivious to the reality that greater Western Washington was experiencing snow, and that chains were required to get over the I-90 pass. That he wasted everyone's time, including his own says everything, so why should I comment further, having already said it?
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