I love Taxis. I mean...LUUHHHVVVV them. Being chauffeured around is SO RICH, and I'm thrilled by how much faster I get to my destination. Even better, when I stay at work past 7:30pm (aka almost every night), I can expense the ride home. Once I've slammed the door shut I immediately become Gordon Gekko, peeling myself away from my desk after another ruthless day at the office. Yes, I'm exhausted, but I'm also wearing striped suspenders and spent the last 12+ hours making zillions of dollars and committing fraud. All in a day's work.
Tonight, however, was less Wall Street than I had hoped. The ride wasn't awful, as my night did not end in a collision or screaming match. Yet in a perfect world, things would have gone differently. For example, when I tried to flag down a cab, I would have hooked one on the first try. Instead, I frantically ran into the street and waved at a cab that was with-passenger. I mean, TURN OFF YOUR LIGHT if you already have someone in the backseat so that I don't look like a dejected fool as I slink back to the sidewalk. I also was not picked up by the second cab I saw which, despite my best efforts, sped past me. RUDE. I decided not to let a third cab escape me, but was thwarted when the FAT ASS Georgetown shuttle decided to switch lanes, blocking me from view. Fourth cab was the charm, but it totally killed my investment banker mojo. Also, when I got in the cab it smelled funny.
Just as I started to get comfortable, my cab driver did the unthinkable: he stopped to pick up someone else. WHY GOD, WHY?! All I wanted was a quick and efficient means home, and somehow, the extra passenger totally ruined that for me. Nevermind that my driver always stayed on the most direct path to my house and dropped me off first. I still spent most of the ride sulking/trying to calculate how the meter should be split so that I didn't cover the first part of the additional passenger's ride. Honestly, I would have said something, but after swinging the door open and experiencing fresh air, I didn't feel like poking my head back in the car.
This last part is the real kicker, the real "you are SO NOT an AIG executive, Betsy." When I asked for $12 back, my driver obliged by thumbing through his wad 'o cash and giving me twelve singles. I mean...COME ON NOW. FO REAL? Perhaps Michael Milken or Bernie Madoff have occasion to frequent strip clubs, but I certainly don't. What am I supposed to do with twelve rumpled singles? Sure, I can use them to purchase goods like any other bill of currency, but it's the principle of the thing, damn it. ::shakes fist::
Regardless, I'm home in one piece and ready to handle the evening's to-dos an hour earlier than I would have if I had walked. Wait...what's that glimmer?! Oh wow...it looks like I found the silver lining! Seriously, I wish there was some way to commoditize looking on the bright side. I wonder if any multinational corporations are looking for a CPO (Chief Positivity Officer)? If so, can you tell them I'm willing and available for a bargain price? Thanks.
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